Henrietta paced around the room again, trying to puzzle it all out.
“We’ve gone over this before,” Donald pointed out and stood. “Does it continue to nag at you?”
“Yes,” she said, still pacing. “More so now.”
“How so?” he asked.
She stopped and looked at him, desperately trying to latch onto the irritating thought that refused to let her be. It lay there, just out of reach and Henrietta knew when she grabbed it, this would make more sense.
“It doesn’t concern Aycliff,” Henrietta said slowly. “But there seems more motive behind the embezzlement from the Crown. Aycliff’s only concern was to clear Darton and nothing further.”
“He had a very powerful reason to do so,” Donald agreed.
“Agreed,” she said, several threads finally weaving together. “However, certain players in the Darton plot were affiliated with the Club.” She looked at her lover who nodded for her to continue. “And while we’re used to all sorts of power mongering here, I believe there’s a deeper scheme involved. One that goes further than trading influence. One that could irreparably damage what we’ve built here.”
Henrietta meant more than the Hellfire Club and saw that Donald understood that. She meant the entirety of England and the paranoia that permeated the upper echelon of society now that France lay in ruins.
“It’s possible there’s a deeper scheme, as you say, Henrietta,” Donald agreed. “However, it’s also possible Garrow’s conviction is the end of it.” He pushed off the desk and walked to the drinks cabinet. Pouring himself a drink, he looked over his shoulder and poured one for her as well. “Or Aycliff’s interference destroyed whatever plot there is.” Crossing the room he handed the glass to her.
Henrietta nodded and sipped the whisky. “You may be correct,” she allowed. “Though I believe we should pay attention…just to see.”
Donald finished his drink and set the empty glass on the desk. Kissing her softly, he cupped her chin and looked at her. Henrietta wondered what he searched for, what he saw in her eyes, but all he did was nod.
“I need to see Miss Darton,” he said. With one final kiss he left, masque in hand.
Henrietta watched him leave the cavernous office. The nagging feeling of impending tragedy refused to leave her. She sipped at her drink, but the whisky, however smooth it went down, did little to alleviate her concerns.
****
Elizabeth pressed the spot between her eyes, trying to ward off the headache that brewed there. Exhausted as she was, sleep continued to elude her. And now, she worried over Callum’s latest move. Did he know about Parker? He seemed well-versed in Dervin’s deeds, but what else did he know?
Part of her prayed he’d forget about Dervin now that her father had been cleared of all charges. The other part knew he never would, not if it meant a chance to see her again.
Her thoughts whirled round and round, with no hope of an answer.
The knock on the door startled her. Turning from the window, and the uninspiring view of the alleyway, she crossed the room and paused to pick up a club Donald had given her for protection.
Between the club, knife, and several other things he’d given her over the last year, Donald seemed more the worried father than the governor of a den of iniquity like the Hellfire Club.
“Yes?” she called.
“Elizabeth,” Donald’s cultured voice drifted through the thin wood.
She set the club on the small table and unlocked the door. He carried a small package, wrapped securely in brown paper. Another item for her protection? Or one of his none-too-subtle gifts to make her life easier?
She’d refused his offer of shelter in the Hellfire Club; while he understood that, he hadn’t been happy. His concern warmed her as little had over these last months.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Elizabeth started with a smile. “You needn’t check on me so late—” She stopped.
Swaying against the door, her vision blurred. “Did…” Elizabeth swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat and tried again. “Did something happen to Callum?”
The words sounded faint in the room, and she wondered if she’d actually said them aloud.
“No.” Donald shook his head and quickly crossed the room. He closed the door and gently took her hand.
His grip warmed her suddenly cold fingers, and Elizabeth relaxed. She looked at him, but saw he spoke the truth.
“No, all is well with your young earl.” Donald guided her to the chair. He still looked concerned, and she forced a smile. So long as Callum remained unharmed, she could handle anything.
“However, your young man is the reason I’m here,” Donald said and stepped back.
“Then what’s happened?” Elizabeth demanded. “If Callum is well, what should concern me?”
He looked at her for a moment, and Elizabeth shivered. The air shifted, but she couldn’t place the reason. She didn’t know why Donald was here, but whatever his reason, she knew it would change everything.
“Tonight at the Club,” he said, “there’s to be a grand masque ball. I know what you feelings are towards the Hellfire Club, but perhaps you can set aside your…objections,” he said with a smile, “for the opportunity to be near Aycliff.”
Elizabeth felt her heart skip a beat. The faintness of a moment ago returned, and she was grateful she already sat. Callum…in the Hellfire Club? She shook her head. Elizabeth didn’t like to think of him in the Club—what he did and with whom.
She no longer held any hold over him, and she was being ridiculously foolish to think otherwise. After all, it was she who left him.
All for good reasons, she reminded herself, but it didn’t stop her breath from seizing. Elizabeth looked away from Donald’s gaze and took a moment to compose herself. With one final deep breath, that did very little to help, she turned back to him with a forced smile.
“If Callum wishes to indulge in what your Club has to offer, then that is his right.” But she had to take a deep breath to continue and push back the emotion choking her. “I wish only that he might forget the trouble I’ve caused him.”
Donald set the package on the bed and said quite succinctly. “He’ll never forget you. But I’m not here to argue the merits of returning to him openly.” His gaze bored through her and though Elizabeth wanted to move, she found herself rooted to the chair. “No, my dear, I have a far different suggestion in mind.”
“I don’t know what you intend to propose,” she said sharply. “My decision is firm. Callum is best off without me in his life. If he’s to go to the Club, then please,” and there was a desperate note in her voice. “Find him a woman, or women,” she added, for she knew well what went on in the Hellfire Club, “who can help him forget.”
Donald looked silently at her for several long moments. Finally he nodded. “Perhaps you could be that woman.”
Elizabeth started to reply, but found she had no answer to his statement. His words weren’t what she expected him to utter, and now she sat there, feeling foolish and desperately wanting to agree.
Licking her lips, she tried not to remember the last time they’d been together. The way Callum’s hands felt on her body, the taste of his kiss. The scent of his skin. Her eyes closed and she shook away the thoughts, the sensations.
“Before you argue with me,” he said and Elizabeth opened her eyes, “hear me out. The requirements of tonight’s event are that no one remove their masque. As a member of the Club, Callum will be in attendance. I’ve already spoken to him.”
“Be that as it may,” she protested, “it’s still none of my concern what he does.”
Or with whom, she wanted to add, but the words refused to form.
“Don’t you see?” he asked, kneeling before her. He looked more determined than she’d ever seen him. “You’ll both be masqued. You can spend time with him, Elizabeth. Be with him. And he’ll never know it’s you.”
Yes. She wanted to say yes. Then again, no she didn’
t. She didn’t want to be with the only man she’d ever loved and have him believe her to be naught more than a trussed up Club member. On the other hand, one more night with Callum tempted her beyond her ability to resist.
But of course he’d know it was her. They’d been lovers for weeks before news of her father’s arrest tore through society. He knew every curve of her body just as she knew every taste and scent of his.
“Too many things could go wrong,” she protested weakly. “No, it’s not a wise idea for me to be so close to Callum.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t think I could stand it,” she whispered.
Donald stood and stared down at her with a hard, unforgiving gaze. “If you’re that determined to hold to your conviction not to return to Aycliff, then this is your only, your final opportunity to be with him as lovers.”
Standing, she glared right back. “I understand this, Donald.” But she stopped. Temptation pulled at her, and Elizabeth felt herself weakening. “There’s no way to be certain a masque would conceal my identity.”
He looked at her again then asked softly, “Aren’t you willing to take that risk for him?”
As she struggled for a reply, torn between one final evening with Callum and the risk it involved, Donald reached for the package on the bed. He untied the string and held out the masque to her.
“The Club will be full,” he said. “Nearly all our London members will be in attendance. And as you know, they’ll be participating in all types of carnal pleasures. Take this moment and use the distractions of the Club to share a last embrace with Aycliff.”
Eyes on the masque, Elizabeth’s vision blurred until the beautiful gold filigree disappeared behind emotion. She hastily wiped at the tears, and composed herself. Still not trusting herself to speak, she took the masque from Donald and tried to talk herself out of it. The masque felt light in her hands, and she ran a fingertip along the eye slits.
“Take this risk.”
Elizabeth licked her lips and looked up at him. “What do I have to do?”
Chapter Eight
Callum stood very still, ignoring the glass of whisky on the table. He’d tried working earlier but it didn’t help, regardless of the many estate accounts requiring his attention. Those papers now lay scattered across his study’s desk. Nothing could divert his attention tonight, not the lack of information on Dervin, which continued to aggravate him or the news of Garrow’s hanging in the morning.
His mind refused to focus on anything save Elizabeth.
He hadn’t admitted the tension he felt to Henrietta, but knew she could divine that for herself. Anticipation drummed through him, and all he could think of was tonight. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to lash out at Donald; not to accuse Henrietta of hiding Elizabeth’s whereabouts from him all this time. After offering such a blow, had they not devised a plan for him to see her, Callum may have carried through with his threat to dismantle the Club brick by brick.
His valet appeared and silently inquired if he was ready to dress, but Callum ignored Burke. His man understood and resolutely bowed before leaving once more.
Letting anxiety get the best of him, Callum paced his dressing chamber. He alternated between determination and agitation. What if she didn’t appear tonight?
He needed only one chance to explain to her, and was positive he could convince her to return to his life given that chance. Callum didn’t care about the past; neither her father’s disgrace nor the perceived traitorous taint on her held meaning for him beyond the obstacles they created. All he wanted was Elizabeth.
Given the chance…
Picking up the whisky, he downed it in one swallow. Given the chance, yes. But would he be granted such a chance?
What if she didn’t show this evening? What if yet one more thing kept her from him? He firmly believed Henrietta and Donald planned to do their best to persuade Elizabeth to attend. For the moment, he’d rely on them. If Elizabeth didn’t attend, nothing would stop him from extracting the information from Donald.
Swallowing, Callum stalked to the clothes Burke had laid out. He looked at the selections, but didn’t truly see them. Frustrated, he prowled the room, anger, anticipation, Elizabeth seething just beneath the surface. He needed to destroy something, to release the energy building up.
Instead he stopped moving. Unclenching his jaw, Callum took a moment to calm himself. One way or another, by dawn he’d find Elizabeth.
For a beat, Callum wondered how Donald planned to approach it, but then decided it didn’t matter. So long as she came to the Club tonight, Callum would handle everything from there.
The masque itself didn’t officially begin until midnight, though Callum knew many members already assembled at the Club tonight. They began their pleasure early. He didn’t want to entangle himself with them and had no plans to arrive at the Club until closer to midnight. And knowing Henrietta and Donald, they’d make sure Elizabeth didn’t arrive before midnight, either.
Shaking off thoughts that did little good, Callum called for his valet. Burke didn’t ask questions, though Callum could see the concern in his gaze. Nodding to the other man, Callum couldn’t quite relax his shoulders, but did try. Through it all, the anger, the defeat, the loss of control, Burke had never said one word against him. At another time, Callum knew he’d have noticed Burke’s discretion earlier. Once Elizabeth returned to his house, perhaps he’d become the man he was before.
Just as he shrugged into the coat, he heard a scratch at the door. Annoyed at the interruption, Callum ignored whoever bothered him. He was in no mood to be disturbed this evening. The scratch came again, and with one last glance at his own masque, he stalked to the door, images of Elizabeth crowding his mind.
It’d been over a year since he’d last seen her, kissed her. Nothing in that year caused him to forget anything about her. Her absence drove him hard, drove him to every action he’d taken in this last year. Nothing he did had been without purpose.
His sole purpose had been to get her back.
“Sir,” the butler said with a bow. “A man is waiting to see you.”
“Does he not have a name?” Callum demanded.
Stark shook his head and didn’t show an ounce of emotion. “He did not offer one, but said you expected him this evening. He’s one of the men you’ve hired before.”
“Yes, yes,” Callum said, annoyed with himself that he’d forgotten. “I’ll be down shortly.”
Burke stilled him, as if sensing the significance of tonight. With a fleeting smile, he thanked his valet as the other man took his leave, allowing Callum a moment to himself. As he exited his dressing room and passed the bed he once occupied, the bed he hadn’t slept in since learning Elizabeth disappeared. He recalled with vivid clarity the desire she held in her eyes for him.
Tonight, he’d finally see her, hold her. Make love with her. He’d feel the heat only they created; nothing felt like Elizabeth to him. Nothing tasted sweeter. Nothing possessed him as she did. Callum needed to feel her warm embrace, to once more taste the sweetness of her breasts. To let the act of entering her burn away the coldness which had frozen him this last year.
The man, John, fidgeted as he waited in the front parlor. When Callum entered he jumped as if caught taking the silver, though he stood in the center of the room.
Ignoring this, Callum asked, “What have you found?”
“We’ve tracked Dervin to the East End,” John, who had never offered up a last name, said. He cleared his throat and said stronger, “He moves constantly. If he sleeps anywhere, it’s in a deep hole with many rats.”
Which was not more than the man deserved; but Callum refrained from saying so. “Then entice him into a trap.”
“We’ve tried, sir.” John nodded, but frowned and clenched his hat tighter in his rough hands. “He doesn’t bite. It seems he fears being caught more than he desires what we offer. However, we think we might be able to corner him. The one risk he does take is to return to one of a handful of g
aming hells.”
“What do you need?” Callum demanded. Dervin hovered just out of reach; the man was craftier than a cutpurse at a gaming hell. “More men? More money?”
John shook his head and for a moment Callum thought he looked somewhat offended. “Neither sir. We wanted to let you know we’re going to canvas the gaming hells tonight.”
Nodding, Callum took several more pound notes and handed them to John. “Good. See to it. Hire more men,” he added before turning away.
John left and Callum waited for his carriage to come round. He didn’t have to wait long; his servants always knew what he needed, sometimes before he did. Dervin would be brought to justice—Callum would see to it. His gift to Elizabeth.
The ride to the Club didn’t take long, even if it felt longer than Callum anticipated. Again anticipation beat through him, and he swallowed against it and focused on only seeing Elizabeth.
Donning his masque, Callum nodded to the guard at the door and entered the Club. Music greeted him, festive, joyous music that echoed throughout the halls. He knew exactly what Elizabeth’s masque looked like, but instinctively knew she’d yet to arrive. Refusing to entertain the traitorous thought of her not coming tonight, he made his way through the labyrinth for Henrietta’s office.
Callum had never been in the Club during a gala, and frankly until tonight he’d never paid much attention to the goings on anyway. Tonight, however, he walked slowly, examining each room, memorizing the various corridors that snaked off the main hallway to Henrietta’s office.
If he wasn’t careful, Callum knew he’d easily become lost in the underground structure.
The aroma of fresh food permeated several rooms, but Callum didn’t want to stop for even a moment. Couples talked here, though some made suggestive overtures to their partners. Several sexual offers were rejected, but the vast majority were accepted with the promise of more.
Further down the long hallway large rooms held Club members who eschewed food in favor of satisfying their more earthly desires. One woman knelt on a table, bound and blindfolded as a man entered her hard. A woman, her gown open to the waist, pinched her own nipples as she watched. A moment later she joined in, tasting the bound woman who screamed in pleasure.
Aycliff's Vow: A Hellfire Club Erotique Page 5
