“Make a wish,” someone whispered in her ear, but she was gone before Jane could adjust her mask to see who it was. Madam McFarland appeared at her side. “Wear your mask at all times. Mingle, my dear…be enticing. If someone chooses you, you must comply. Do you understand?”
Jane nodded, wholly agreeable. The shock she’d first experienced upon her arrival had turned to more than curiosity. Little by little, small groups left the room, their arms around each other. She heard their laughter and the sound of doors slamming in the rooms above. Jane finished her drink and placed it on a nearby table. Taking a deep breath, she searched for Vladimir and found him looking at her from across the room. Madam McFarland appeared at her shoulder.
“Would you like me to introduce you?” Madam McFarland asked.
Jane nodded, behaving as though they hadn’t met. For all Madam knew, they hadn’t. The candlelight wavered, dancing in front of her as if to the music playing in her head. Madam looped her arm through Jane’s and escorted her to Vladimir. He wore a bizarre hat resembling a ram’s horns. Its mask covered only his eyes, revealing the lower half of his face.
“Master, permit me to introduce you to our lovely new escort, Lizzy,” Madam McFarland said.
Jane blinked, focusing on the austere man. In the darkness of the room, he looked to be the very image of some mythological demon. He stepped forward from the shadows, an interested smile curling his lip. Plucking two glasses of champagne from a passing servant, he held one to Jane.
“The pleasure is mine, mademoiselle.”
Jane accepted, swallowing the cool liquid on her parched throat. With each sip, her concerns grew less, and she was convinced that everything that had happened in her life had brought her precisely to this moment. She held out her hand with a demure smile. “Delighted, monsieur.” He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles and preened with a glowing smile when Jane sighed.
“Oh, my, I do admire you—Lizzy, is it? What a beautiful name.” His voice dripped of honey, caressing her languid thoughts. “It suits you.”
Her mind clouded with a delicious haze, Jane nodded with a humble curtsy. She glanced around her looking for Madam. Too many people were crowded in the foyer. Her gaze landed on the life-like statute in the midst of the throng. “Do what thou wilt,” Jane muttered dreamily as she remembered what Madam had told her earlier. She turned her attention back to her admirer.
“Where did Madam McFarland discover such an exquisite creature?” He lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. Jane could smell the mixture of champagne and cigar smoke on his breath. Vladimir ran his fingers along the bottom edge of her mask. His glittering dark eyes studied her. “I feel as though we’ve met someplace before. But that would be impossible. How could I forget such a beguiling creature? Per chance, just a peek to be sure….”
Another voice, low timbered and sexy, caused her flesh to tingle with awareness.
“There now, Maître, you know the rules—anonymity above all.”
Startled by the familiar voice, Jane turned to get a better look at the man. She fluttered her fan by way of distraction, squinting through the shadows at his broad-shouldered form walking away. He wore a formal black coat, tan pants, and black riding boots. The gold mask he wore shielded his face and his shoulder-length dark hair held back in a leather thong. Jane saw Madam then, as the man walked to her side and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Her gaze shot up and met Jane’s.
Sturdy fingers clamped around her arm and a soft gasp bubbled from her throat. Vladimir whirled Jane to face him. “You must forgive me, my dear. He is quite right. Tell me, do you like magic?” He reached up, pulled a coin from behind Jane’s ear, and twirled it quickly over his knuckles before it disappeared. Jane smiled, trying to focus on her reasons for being here—to get closer to Vladimir. Without thinking, she reached up, grabbed the end of his well-manicured beard, and shook it gently. “I like you.”
Madam McFarland’s gloved hand clamped down on Jane’s forearm. “Come, Lizzy. You’ve been chosen.”
“What?” Vladimir scoffed. “But I—”
“You know the rules, master,” Madam McFarland said. She looked at Jane. “Come, my dear.”
Vladimir held Madam’s gaze for a moment and then sighed. “Indeed, I hope we meet again, mademoiselle.” He turned, bowed and kissed Jane’s hand. “Very soon.”
“Lizzy, come now,” Madam ordered, tugging for her to follow. “You mustn’t keep a client waiting, especially this one.”
The world seemed to revolve around Jane in slow motion.
“Quickly, follow me. We must prepare you,” Madam tossed over her shoulder as she headed toward her office. Her glorious mane of red hair was drawn to one side by a large glittering clip. Through the foggy warmth of Jane’s perception, her fingers itched to reach out and touch the strands to see if they felt as fiery as they appeared.
“Who has requested me?” she asked, squinting against the glaring light as Madam turned up the lights in her office. Everything seemed to leap out at her with a jarring clarity. Jane stood for a moment, her fingers poised at her temples. The room seemed to sway.
“How much have you had to drink?”
She blinked, narrowing her gaze on the woman’s face. Was she angry? “One, maybe two, glasses of champagne. Why?”
“This client is very particular. He prefers his women coherent.”
Jane straightened and pushed her shoulders back. A warm rush of confidence surged through her. She took a deep breath, summoning both courage and purpose. She would need her wits about her. “I am fine, I assure you.”
“Good.” Madam knelt in front of her and unceremoniously lifted Jane’s skirts. A startled gasp escaped her lips as the woman pulled Jane’s pantalets to her ankles with a tug. “Step out,” she ordered.
Jane stiffened, ignoring the feeling of madam’s hands on her body. She glanced down at the woman’s head as she brushed Jane’s skirts back into place. She realized madam hadn’t answered her question. “With whom will I be tonight?”
Madam’s stern gaze darted to hers. Jane clamped her mouth shut. Her well-laid plan to meet Vladimir was losing ground.
“You have no need to know his name. All you need to know is that you went to the highest bidder. That is how it’s done for your first time.” She had a firm grasp on Jane’s shoulders. “Now, let me look at you.” She assessed her from head to toe, tugging down the sleeves of her gown to expose her shoulders. “Do not ask the client personal questions. Bite your lips to bring some color to them. You’re as pale as a sheet.” She reached up and pinched Jane’s cheeks, studying her face with a critical eye. Unexpectedly, Madam cupped Jane’s cheeks and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “For luck,” she said. “And to taste your mouth, because he won’t. It’s his policy.”
Jane licked her lips and swallowed. Her heart pounded in her chest. What had she done?
“Do not disappoint me, Lizzy. What I can tell you about this man is that he is a club legend. His father, as mine, was part of a group of our founding fathers. I trust I don’t need to explain to you that he is to be obeyed—whatever he asks.” She pointed towards the door. “Now, go. Take the back stairs to the third floor. The Crimson Suite is marked. You’ll find it at the end of the hall.”
Jane swallowed a hard lump of fear. The masks, the secrets, and the strange surroundings—what had she been thinking, if at all? Her mind was a battlefield, strewn with her intentions, her brave plans, and her pride.
She left madam in her office and gave serious thought to an escape as she walked past the kitchen door to the stairs at the back of the manor. The sound of a door slamming open stopped her and she turned to find a young woman fleeing from the kitchen. She ran straight into Jane’s arms and her eyes, filled with fear, sought Jane’s help.
Jane tried to calm the woman, but her hysterical ramblings pleaded to Jane in a foreign tongue. Seeing her desperation, Jane grabbed the woman’s hands and bent down to look directly into her eyes. “Let me take you to
Madam McFarland. She will help you.”
Her eyes grew large, and she tore from Jane’s grasp. Covering her face, the young woman rocked in place, sobbing. An older servant woman appeared from the kitchen. Her behavior was calm, far more subdued than the distraught young girl. She wrapped her arm in a comforting gesture around the girl’s shoulder.
“She’ll be just fine, mum. Get on along now, madam doesn’t like to keep a client waiting.” They retreated into the kitchen, the door softly closing behind them.
Her nerves rattled by the odd scene, Jane wished she had another glass of the gold champagne to steel her nerves. Seeing a shadow come up from behind, she turned and found Jarrod, the manor butler, balancing a tray with a glass of champagne. “Your client in the Crimson Suite sent this down, miss. He thought you might require it.”
Given what madam had told her about the mysterious client, he must have a measure of compassion for the new girl. “Thank you.” She took the glass and, as Jarrod waited, downed the entire contents. Jane waited a moment after the butler left before gathering her skirts and her courage. She headed up the stairs and with the music wafting from the foyer below, walked the lengthy hallway to the other end. She stopped in front of the door labeled ‘Crimson Suite,’ her heart catching to find the door ajar.
Cold reality assuaged her as she realized that stepping over the threshold would irrevocably change her life. With her choice came the possibility that no respectable man would accept her after tonight. Then again, perhaps he was an older gent who only wished to have her read to him. She took a deep breath as the champagne she’d consumed slid luxuriously through her body, alleviating her concerns. Jane raised her fist and tapped lightly, sending the door to squeak open on its hinges.
“Close the door behind you,” a disembodied voice stated.
Inside, she let her eyes adjust to the flickering candlelight. She stood just inside the doorway, surveying the elegant splendor. The room, clearly designed for a man, featured exquisite taste. Dark velvet drapes covered the windows, blocking out both sound and light. Crimson flocked wallpaper covered the walls. Jane’s pulse throbbed against her throat as she eased the door shut, sealing her fate.
Cautiously, she stepped farther into the room, scanning the furnishings. The focal point of the space was a massive four-poster bed. Its plush covering was a rich, blood red. Its headboard and thick posts, rising high above the mattress, were made of a polished dark wood that gleamed in the glow of the candles placed around the room. Her gaze drifted to the top of the bed’s corner posts, noting the brass rings and knotted ropes dangling from each one. Aware of the sound of her erratic breathing, she was quickly reminded what might be expected of her.
“I see you’ve worn my favorite color.”
Jane’s heart stilled. She’d nearly forgotten that someone else was in the room. His voice slid over her. A shiver of anticipation brushed over her shoulders. She knew that voice, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? “Yes,” she pushed out in a strangled whisper. “I can see you like crimson.” There was an alcove to one side, shrouded in darkness. The voice spoke from the shadows. She narrowed her gaze, seeking a face to place with the voice.
“You are quite lovely, my dear. What shall I call you?”
“Didn’t Madam McFarland tell you my name?”
“At times the mask brings with it a special name. It makes things…easier,” he explained with a low chuckle.
Jane licked her lips. She had no special name. “If you prefer to give me a name, then that is who I will be.” A brief silence stretched between them.
“What does madam call you?”
“Lizzy.”
“Lizzy,” he repeated, letting the name roll lazily off his tongue. “Lizzy. That will do. Did you get the champagne I sent?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I thought you might need it to…settle your nerves. This is your first time, isn’t it?”
Startled by the creak of leather giving way, her eyes followed the sound. From the shadows emerged the man belonging to the voice that caused the gooseflesh to rise on her skin. Her breath caught at the sight of him in the flickering candlelight. Now without a coat, his well-honed body filled out his form-fitting tan trousers and dark vest. His cravat hung loose and the shirt he wore lay open, revealing a glimpse of his broad chest. He held a drink in one hand and with his other gently tapped a riding whip against his thigh. A gold mask with stark, molded features concealed his face.
Jane held his gaze, mesmerized by his dark, glittering eyes. A wicked smile parted his lips, causing her knees to weaken. That smile confirmed her suspicions. This was no old man, this, was Inspector Mansfield. But did he recognize her?
He walked toward her, taking his time as he assessed her with a predatory gaze. He raised his drink to his lips and his eyes, unashamed, lingered on her breasts. Her heart, already at a steady trot, leapt to a full gallop. Averting her eyes from his, she fought to organize her thoughts, remembering his earlier question. “I can assure you I know how to please a man.”
“Oh, indeed, I’ve no doubt in my mind. What I meant to say is that you are new here at the manor, are you not?”
He circled around behind her. The heat of his body enveloped her as he placed his hand around her waist. Jane’s heart all but stopped. How much longer could she keep up this façade?
“Hold my glass, sweetheart,” he whispered against her cheek.
She took the glass, feeling his warmth against her palm. Fear and need warred inside her.
“Tell me, do you like games, Lizzy?” His mouth touched her bare shoulder, the heat of his breath going straight to her core. She swallowed. Every sense came fully alive. His soap and leather scent wafted around her, mixing with the brandy on his breath. Through hooded lids, she gazed at the flickering candles. A heady redolence enveloped her—exotic, worldly. It evoked the image of a man with enough money to buy whatever he desired—and right now, he desired her.
“You didn’t answer, my pet.” He plucked the glass from her trembling hand.
“I-I enjoy them now and again, sir.” Her breasts tightened at the underlying authoritative tone in his voice.
“It’s master!” His whip cracked against the bedpost.
Jane’s fist clenched as she stood her ground, willing herself not to run. “I’m sorry… master.” Warmth pooled between her thighs.
“You’ll learn.” His calloused knuckles stroked the curve of her neck. “You’re fresh, Lizzy, dare I say, virginal to my deeds.”
Her body erupted in a flush of tingles. Jane clutched the skirt of her gown, locking her knees. She glanced at the bed, not more than a few feet away, and imagined lying on her back, skirts thrown over her head, his hands firm on her thighs as he pumped furiously into her.
His fingers dug into her hair, skimming her scalp, setting her flesh on fire. Her hands twisted in the satiny fabric.
“You are quite beautiful.” Plunging into her hair, he snatched a handful and tugged her head back. Jane swallowed a scream at the unexpected harshness. He pressed his unshaven cheek to hers. She stared at the dark ceiling of the room and wondered what was to come next.
“Did I hurt you?” His grip eased marginally as he spoke. “Perhaps you aren’t used to finding pleasure in pain?” He lowered his voice. “I assure you I know how to please a woman.”
Her body was on fire. How could he know just how to make her body respond with these delicious sensations—with feelings she hadn’t been aware she possessed until this moment? The anticipation created a deep ache that only one man could satisfy. “You d-didn’t hurt me.” She tried to turn her head, but he held it firm. A moment later, his cravat dangled in front of her.
“Let’s play.”
He was testing her. How far would he take this ruse, or was it one? She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t stop, fearful of what was in store. “If you’re sure to be gentle with me…master.”
He released her head with a low growl. His strong, seeking finge
rs grabbed her, pulling her hard against him. “I’ll have you begging, Lizzy. Begging me to drive so deep inside you that you’ll do anything—anything I desire.”
Her eyes drifted shut. She found herself lost in the sublime sensation of his lips, soft and teasing. She was captivated. His methodical seduction drew her in, blurring reality. Every failed encounter with any man dissipated in her mind. Not one had ever made her feel this way. She knew who this was. She knew what he wanted. And God help her, ever since she stared into his obsidian eyes and seen the fire in them, she’d wanted him. This is a dangerous game, Jane thought. But she would choose to risk her heart—if only for one night
“Relax, my dearest.” He reached to remove her mask.
She placed her hand over his, stopping him. “The rules—” He turned her hand in his, left a lingering kiss on her palm, then slowly returned it to her side. His hand covered hers, pressing against her thigh.
The Dark Seduction of Miss Jane Page 15
