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“When done to inebriation.”
“I seldom...It would seem you are witness to the moments when I have become a little intoxicated. A coincidence, I wonder?”
She was mocking him. The imp. He suppressed a smile.
He gestured for her to take a seat upon the settee. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Herwood?”
Hesitating, she took a deep breath. Her bosom rose, and the image of her breasts trussed between his ropes flashed in his eye.
Still standing, she replied, “I came to discuss your invitation.”
He wanted to close the distance between them and lift the veil to reveal her face, which he would cup between his hands, tilting her mouth up so that he could descend upon it and cover it whole. Instead he continued to stand next to his armchair, patiently waiting for her to elaborate. He had already begged pardon for his transgression. Surely she did not come all this way to seek further apology?
“I am, perhaps, possibly,” she continued, “interested, rather, amenable, to accepting the invitation to the Chateau Faux.”
Her voice had lowered but he had strained and heard every word.
“Chateau Follet,” he corrected. What had initiated this turn of events?
“That is, if you are still extending the invitation?”
Her obvious anxiety tugged at something within him. She had a tight grasp upon that reticule of hers.
“Sit, Miss Herwood.”
She did not move.
“Please,” he added more gently.
She sat herself on the edge of the settee as if she might need to leap to her feet at any second. He seated himself across from her.
“The Chateau Follet is also known by its guests as the Chateau Debauchery,” he explained and studied her for her reaction, but it was difficult to determine whilst the veil remained over her face. She did not flinch, so he continued. “Madame Follet is the hostess. Her late husband was acquainted with the Marquis de Sade.”
“Ah,” was all she said as if to indicate that that explained everything. “Are you trying to dissuade me?”
God, no. He would whisk her there this instant if he could.
“There are activities at the Chateau not for the faint of heart. You need not engage in the activities, but I want you to be completely aware of what you are agreeing to.”
“Do any of these activities put me in danger or harm me in any way?”
“I would ensure your safety.”
“Then I am satisfied. I place my trust and confidence in you, Lord Rockwell.”
The full weight of her gaze was upon him, as if daring him to betray that trust.
“And I have one condition,” she continued. “I agree to go with you to this Chateau for the sum of a hundred pounds.”
He sat in stunned silence, realizing she spoke with too much conviction to be jesting. She was deliberately choosing to prostitute herself? He leaned back in his chair, giving himself a moment to process the situation. How he wished she would remove that damned veil. He liked seeing her eyes. He could discern much through them.
“You’re in need of funds, Miss Herwood,” he stated the obvious. He could not help but be disappointed that that was the motivation for her presence.
Her back stiffened. “Do you accept my offer, Lord Rockwell?”
In a bloody instant, the carnal in him responded. Instead, he asked, “What happened to the Indian elephant?”
She shifted in discomfort. “It was a generous gift, your lordship. Alas, I found it necessary to pawn it.”
