AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With the wig borrowed from her mother’s chamber covering her golden hair, she was not recognizable. She took a deep breath and turned to face Charlotte. “I made this decision two days ago, but I am just finding the courage to act on it, Charlotte. I must see Luca—the duke or I will forever live with this wealth of doubt, pain, and anger inside. I doubt you will understand, but that is all right. I expect no one will understand what I am feeling. But I do ask you to keep my confidence.”
“You cannot head to his residence alone,” Charlotte breathed in shock. “You court complete ruination.”
Constance frowned. “I am already ruined in society’s eyes, and I will not let my actions be dictated by them. Besides, you are forgetting I am in masquerade.”
The silence in the chamber was pronounced.
“Connie…”
“I will be fine, Char. Mother and father are sleeping, and I will be going through the back entrance. When I made the decision to leave, I ordered the carriage to be ready. I have also ensured the crest will be covered. Do not wait up for me. I will be back in a few hours.”
“I think not. I am coming with you.”
“Char—”
Charlotte raised her hand to halt Constance’s speech. “That is the only way I am letting you out of here without raising a ruckus. Allow me to get my domino and mask, and we will be off.”
“I am heading to his club, not his town house,” Constance confessed.
“I suspected as much,” Charlotte replied, before sweeping out of the chamber.
Constance felt a deep sense of relief curling through her. Though she had been sure of what she had to do, she had felt trepidation about her chosen path. The support of Charlotte meant everything, and Constance would tell her so.
The clock struck midnight as they crept down the back stairs, careful to be quiet. They exited to the back gardens and walked with swift steps to where the carriage waited. Her heart thundered, and she prayed she was not making another foolish decision as Charlotte feared. A decision that would complete the breaking of Constance’s heart. But she needed to understand. If only to rout Lucan from her heart, a place she feared he had already been deeply embedded.
Chapter Eleven
Constance walked up to the most luxurious gaming club in all of London as if it were a normal occurrence to do so and knocked. A man who seemed to be the majordomo opened the door. He was dressed in a black evening coat, snowy white undershirt, and white bow tie, with his hair slicked back without a strand out of place. He would have looked elegant and dashing if not for the cold, hard expression on his face.
He raised a brow and ran an insolent gaze over her length. His regard switched to Charlotte and a quick frown chased his features.
“I… We…” Constance bit her lips hard wondering if she should simply say the secret word.
“Your rings?” he asked in a silted voice, his question encompassing her and Charlotte.
Constance swallowed and prayed Lucan had not been jesting. “Revenant.”
The man stiffened, peered at her for a few long seconds, and then sketched a deep bow. “Lord Ainsley, at your service. This way ladies,” he said after taking their coats and dominos and handing it to another man.
The Earl of Ainsley? She wanted to question why he had been the one to open the club door, but she kept her nose firmly to herself. He prowled ahead of them at a leisurely pace. Charlotte adjusted her mask and glanced at Constance. She lifted her chin and walked after the man. They traveled through a long hall, passed several doors, and Constance could hear the din of laughter filtering to the hall. They came upon a massive door, which swung open without the man even knocking. He waved them through, and Constance stepped into the sheer opulence of a grand ballroom. She grounded to a halt and Charlotte almost ran into her.
Three floors rose in stunning splendor. The ceiling was made of stained-glass panels and dozens of glittering chandeliers hung suspended, their lights dancing off the hundreds of men and women in their finery. The masks of the patrons glittered, some fanciful, some exquisitely designed, and some darkly fashioned into looks of darkness and decadence. Couples embraced publicly in several corners on chaise lounges, and those who danced were certainly closer than what was appropriate. Constance swallowed as she saw a man and woman kissing in the most scandalous fashion for all to see. She became painfully aware how much young ladies of society were sheltered. Suddenly her corset felt too tight and fear wafted through her. She was out of her league.
But she had to admit the place was magnificent. The décor consisted of dark, rich paneled woods, peach and silver velvet drapes lined the walls, and the luxurious orient carpet that covered the floors and the staircase was the richest and most beautiful she had ever seen. The walls were lined with massive gilded columns that were swathed in cloths with oriental colors so vibrant they seemed exotic. Raucous laughter and conversation spilled down the stairs and Constance stared in awe at the dozens of glasses layered on each other in a fountain floating with golden liquid.
“What is it?”
“Champagne,” the earl responded.
A fountain of champagne? The very notion was simply…decadent. “Is this why Mondvale is referred to as the Lord of Sin?” the question spilled out before she could stop herself.
Lord Ainsley glanced at her almost bemusedly. “If you are asking me if Lucan’s moniker was given because he dazzled society with a fountain of champagne you should not be here, Lady Constance. You are ignorant of what is considered sinful.”
Charlotte gasped and Constance froze. How did he know it was her? “I…”
A fleeting smile touched his lips. “Relax, your secret is safe with me. I will have someone attend to you.”
Before she could speak, he melted away into the crowd.
“Oh my goodness, Connie, he knew who you were. I think we need to leave immediately.”
“He said we were safe.”
Charlotte gaped at her. “And you believed him?”
A loud shriek drew Constance’s gaze to a lady slapping a man kissing the globes of her breasts. Constance remembered Lucan had said he catered to Society’s finest. The stunning hypocrisy of everything had a surge of rage firing in her veins. Here they chortled, tossed the dice, danced the most scandalous dances, and they were members of the haute monde. But they felt protected behind their masks. Actions they would judge other people for, cut them for, refused to speak with them for, they were here indulging in liberally. The hypocrites.
A man appeared at their side as if by magic with two glasses of champagne. “What will be your pleasures this evening, madams? The dancers will soon be out in the smaller ballroom if you would like to observe. We have several card parties tonight. Games of Baccarat, poker, Hazard, roulette, Vingt et un, and Faro running in the game rooms, or if you would like to have dinner—”
“I would like to see the Duke of Mondvale,” she interrupted him curtly.
“Very well, this way, Madame.”
They walked around the crush of people to a slim foyer that ran almost parallel to the ballroom. Constance could not help ogling the magnificence of the place. They entered what appeared to be the smaller ballroom, and she slowly blinked. Everyone there was dressed in elaborate costumes and wore masks. It had been a stab in the dark on her part to appear incognito. Never had it occurred to her that everyone else would be similarly attired.
He led them to a chaise near the refreshment table. “I will inform His Grace you are here.”
“Thank you.”
“Whom may I tell His Grace is requesting his presence?”
She inhaled to steady her nerves. “Please inform him that Miss Desiree Hastings is here, and will not leave until she has an audience.”
He sketched another small bow and melted away.
Constance was surprised at how quiet the crowd was as if they waited for something to start. She strained to see where they were all looking. The crowd then roared in approval and her lips parted in as
tonishment as scantily dressed women twirled out in perfect synchronization onto a space made for them on the ballroom floor.
“My goodness!” Charlotte exclaimed.
Constance thought they were beautiful as they launched into a vigorous dance, their legs kicking scandalously high in such perfect unison. With an unwilling fascination she could not control, she rose to her feet and strolled closer for a better view. Her breath caught. She could see the ladies garters, black stockings, and drawers as they kicked and twirled their long red shirts. She gasped as the dancers struck several provocative poses and then bent over, throwing their skirts over their backs, showing their rear end to the cheering audience.
She was certainly standing in a den of sin and decadence, and she was about to have a private audience with the man who lorded over it.
She was definitely out of her element.
…
Lucan still could not credit that Constance was in his club. When Thomas had informed Lucan that a Miss Desiree Hastings was here to see him he had stuttered. His factotum in turn had been intrigued that a woman had rendered Lucan to such a state.
Not even a few seconds had passed when Ainsley strolled into the office.
“Lady Constance—”
