Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

9

“There’s no need to be nervous, dearie.” The proprietress of The Enchanted Rose, who’d introduced herself as Mrs. Loverly, gave Pippa’s arm a maternal pat. “Lady Fayne told me to take special care of you, and any friend of the good lady is a friend of mine.”

A frisson of excitement passed through Pippa. At the same time, her heart lurched at her scandalous undertaking. She couldn’t believe that she’d worked up the nerve to visit a male bawdy house. Her talk with Charlie, however, had convinced her that she needed to expand her horizons. She was tired of being caged by grief, sorrow, and regret. Of feeling lost and confused.

Tonight, she wanted to be free.

As Mrs. Loverly led her down a sumptuous scarlet corridor, Pippa noticed the paintings. Framed in gilt, the pieces were close-up studies of flowers…that bore an uncanny resemblance to a woman’s private part. Pippa stared at a rendering of a pink rose: the tiny bud was surrounded by lush petals dripping with pearly dew.

“The paintings are for sale.” The bawd’s wink was jovial, a crimson plume bobbing in her improbably raven hair. “That one is called The Peak of Pleasure, and it’s a bargain at fifty pounds. The frame is extra, of course.”

“Oh.” Cheeks flaming beneath her golden mask, Pippa cast about for another topic. “You, um, know Lady Fayne well?”

“She helped me out of a bind, she did. Took on my case when no one else would. Thanks to her, I was able to stop a blackmailer from bleeding me dry. From then on, I said to myself, we women must stick together.”

“Indeed,” Pippa murmured.

“Now, when we arrive in the drawing room, you go ahead and mingle as you would at any high-kick affair. In truth, many of the ladies will be your acquaintances but, like you, they will be masked and disguised. There’s no need to feel uncomfortable, dearie. You’re all here for the same purpose.”

To find a lover for the night, Pippa thought with a tingle.

“I keep the finest studs in my stables. Anyone you pick will give you a splendid ride—and as many rides as you wish for the evening,” Mrs. Loverly said with a throaty chuckle. “My mounts are known for their stamina.”

Pippa’s knees wobbled. Am I really going through with this?

It was too late for second thoughts, for they’d arrived at the drawing room. A pair of handsome footmen bowed and opened the double doors, releasing a swell of voices and perfume. The elegantly appointed chamber was packed with people. Ladies in elaborate costumes conversed with males whose physical assets were on shocking display. Although the men wore black demi-masks, they’d left off their shirts, their muscular torsos inviting the female gaze. Their lower halves were clad in tight leather breeches that left little to the imagination.

Swallowing, Pippa felt as if her feet were bolted to the ground. Her courage dissolved as she watched a lady run beringed fingers over the taut ridges of a man’s abdomen and over his bulging groin.

This is a mistake, she thought in panic. I cannot do this…

“Come along, dearie.” The proprietress took Pippa’s arm and dragged her over the threshold. “Let me introduce you to the crème de la crème that The Enchanted Rose has to offer.”

A glass of champagne eased Pippa’s nerves. At least enough for her to observe her surroundings with curiosity rather than alarm. As Mrs. Loverly guided her around the chamber, she noted the mix of the clientele. Although the women were disguised, Pippa guessed that they spanned a range of ages. They were short, tall, plump, thin, and every shape in between. What they had in common was the boldness to pursue what they wanted. What society told them they should not want and could not have.

Pippa, whatever is the matter with you? Edwin’s voice rose like a specter. Such forward behavior is unbecoming of a lady.

Back then, all she’d done was try to participate in their couplings—to do something other than lie still beneath him, close her eyes, and think of England. Edwin, however, had accused her of being unladylike.

If only he could see me now,Pippa thought wryly.

Remembering her anticipation on her wedding night and how it had fizzled into disappointment, she felt a smoldering beneath her breastbone.

Mrs. Loverly’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Dearie, allow me to introduce you to Baldur.”

Pippa eyed the golden-haired man. Mrs. Loverly’s “studs” used the names of Norse gods, and this one lived up to his namesake. He was beautiful and refined, the smooth muscles of his torso gleaming in the candlelight. Below his half-mask, his chiseled lips formed a seductive curve.

He took Pippa’s hand and kissed it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

His touch wasn’t unpleasant. Nor was his conversation. Mrs. Loverly drifted off, leaving Pippa in a quiet corner of the room with her potential lover for the eve. She and Baldur chatted about light topics, and he shared an amusing anecdote. As the minutes passed, however, she realized something was missing.

As handsome as Baldur was, she didn’t feel any pull toward him. Their conversation revealed they had little in common. Or, perhaps, neither of them felt comfortable revealing anything of substance. The superficiality of their exchange, the empty compliments and sultry innuendoes, wore on her nerves. She fished for an excuse to leave.

“Pardon, I need to get a breath of air,” Pippa said. “Alone.”

Baldur’s jaw took on a determined angle. Likely he didn’t want the time he’d invested in her to be wasted.

“Before you depart, sweeting.” He planted his hands on the wall behind her and leaned his body into hers. “May I give you a sample of my talents?”

She could have refused. But he was close, and she was curious. Might as well find out if kissing one man was any different from kissing another. When his lips touched hers, she waited with bated breath. For the spark. The sizzle. The fire of hunger that Cull’s kiss had lit in her.

And what she felt was…nothing.

Her heartbeat was calm, her breathing unaffected.

Strangely relieved, she broke the kiss. “Thank you. Now I must go.”

Baldur’s charming smile did not reach his eyes. “Come find me when you return.”

Pippa took the back exit from the room. She found herself in another sumptuous corridor, this one lined with closed doors. Her insides quivered at the muffled sounds of passion. Memories of being entangled with Cull on the cot swamped her. The scorching need she’d felt in his arms. The mind-melting desire.

Why is he the only one who makes me feel that way? she mused.

A door opened at the end of the corridor, interrupting her thoughts. A couple slipped out…a brunette and a man with shoulder-length mahogany hair. When they glanced at Pippa, she froze.

The man was singularly handsome, his eyes a striking shade of silver in his black mask. But it was the brunette who held Pippa’s attention: although the woman wore a lacy white demi-mask, she looked a lot like Lady Julianna Hastings. Same thin build, same plain features albeit lacquered with paint. What was the lady doing in a place like this?

What are you doing here? Pippa’s inner voice pointed out dryly. Pot, meet kettle.

Given what she knew of the lady’s union, Pippa didn’t judge the other for searching out extramarital pleasure. Lady Hastings turned back to her escort, showing no signs of recognizing Pippa. Of course, the viscountess only knew Pippa socially and had no idea that Pippa was part of the investigative society working on her behalf. Or, rather, the society that had been doing so. Pippa wished the lady hadn’t terminated the Angels’ services. She didn’t trust Viscount Hastings and thought he might be capable of hurting his wife.

When Lady Hastings and her partner walked off, disappearing around a corner, Pippa considered following. She knew it wasn’t her place, that she had to respect the client’s decision, but she felt unsettled. She remembered all the times she’d ignored her intuition when it came to Edwin. When she’d stood by and done nothing while he’d dug himself a grave.

What can you do to help Lady Hastings? her inner voice reasoned. It is not as if you can speak with her, try to convince her to let the Angels help.

Nonetheless, Pippa’s feet led her in the direction that Lady Hastings had gone. When she reached the end of the hallway, she peered around the corner: another corridor and no sign of the couple. Only a masked gentleman striding toward her. Unlike the other males, he was fully dressed, his stark evening wear fitted like a glove to his brawny form.

Awareness sizzled through her. Her heart came alive, a wild, thrashing thing in her chest.

“Dash it,” she exclaimed as he came to a stop in front of her. “What are you doing here?”