Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway
33
As the unmarked carriage neared its destination, Pippa’s heart thumped with anticipation. The de Tremblays’ manor was situated on the northern edge of Hampstead Heath, bordered by grassy knolls and woodland. In the indigo twilight, the place felt wild and isolated.
A place where anything could happen.
“I don’t like this,” Cull muttered beside her.
It had been his refrain since she and Charlie had hatched the present plan.
Through her contacts, Charlie had secured Pippa and Cull entry as “performers” for the event. As part of the hired help, Pippa was unlikely to be recognized by any acquaintances who might be in attendance. The theme of the bacchanal was “Gods Walking the Earth,” and performers were required to follow a specific dress code.
Cull was going as Hephaestus, the blacksmith god. Pippa hoped it was his sardonic sense of humor rather than any true sense of self that had led him to dress as the deformed Olympian. Whatever his intention, he radiated male sensuality in his black domino, mask, and tight black breeches. He was shirtless beneath the cape, the glimpses of hair-dusted muscle making Pippa’s insides flutter. The god’s huge hammer, made of lightweight papier-mâché, rested on the carriage floor.
Pippa, herself, was disguised as Hephaestus’s wife. She’d modeled her Aphrodite after Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, choosing a wig of long, red-gold curls that cascaded past her waist. Beneath her woolen cloak, she wore a sleeveless white robe with a crisscrossed bodice and tasseled gold belt knotted at the waist. The dress had high side slits that reached mid-thigh; per the instructions given to the performers, she wore nothing beneath it.
She felt altogether scandalous…and liberated. She wondered if women might move differently in the world without corsets and petticoats to impede them. She wasn’t even wearing stockings; her footwear consisted of thin golden sandals with laces that climbed like vines up to her knee.
Elation thrummed in her. It was as if she’d shed a part of herself along with her unmentionables. Patient Pippa, with her inhibitions and insecurities, was nowhere to be found. Tonight, Pippa felt like a true Angel: strong, confident, and determined to solve the case.
“This is a bad idea,” Cull more or less repeated.
With an exasperated twinge, she said, “I heard you the first dozen times.”
“We can turn back.”
“We are not turning back.” She frowned at him. “Why are you being a wet blanket?”
Cull glowered back. “I’m not being a wet blanket; I’m being sensible. You have no business going to a sodding orgy.”
“No business? I am an agent on a mission.” She huffed out an annoyed breath. “I thought we’d moved past your overbearing tendencies.”
“I know you’re an agent, but you’re also a lady,” he said obstinately. “I don’t like the idea of you being exposed to this depravity.”
Her simmering temper reached a boil. How dare he?
“Whether or not you like it is irrelevant; I make my own decisions, Timothy Cullen. Why are you acting this way? This isn’t my first visit to a den of iniquity—remember The Enchanted Rose?”
“No matter how hard I try to forget it,” he ground out. “But you weren’t mine then. Now you are and…”
“And what?”
“I don’t want other men to get an eyeful of what belongs to me.”
Seeing his clenched jaw and balled hands, she suddenly realized the truth.
“You’re jealous?” she said in disbelief.
“What if I am?” He jutted his chin out. “I reckon I have a right to be. Fourteen years I’ve waited for you, Pippa, and I’m not a man who shares. Especially not the woman I love.”
His possessiveness ought to have irked her, but for some reason it had the opposite effect. Her annoyance subsided. Perhaps it was his honesty and the vulnerability he was exposing. She was struck by a keen awareness: she had the power to hurt him…and vice versa. After all, hadn’t she felt the bite of possessiveness when Miss Cunnyngham had exposed herself to Cull?
The present spat reminded Pippa that a relationship was seldom all smooth sailing. Truth be told, Cull had been tirelessly supportive...more than she could imagine most men being. If she wanted space, he gave it. If she wished for help with the case, he provided that too. If she had a humiliating emotional outburst, he took care of her and told her she was perfect.
He was almost too accommodating. He focused on her needs and asked for little in return. As if he felt he wasn’t worthy of more…
Perhaps this fight was a good sign. A sign that he trusted her enough to be honest and not hold back his feelings. A sign that they could disagree, get angry, and still be blissfully happy together. Her own parents had locked horns over the years, and she couldn’t think of two people more passionately in love.
Strangely enough, the fight gave Pippa the courage to voice what she’d held back.
“This is a ruse, and I’m only playing a part for the case,” she said. “My heart belongs to you and you only. I love you, Cull.”
“Pippa.”Bright longing flashed in his eyes. “Do you…do you mean that?”
“Yes. And I want to share my life with you.” She held his gaze. “But I won’t make myself smaller to fit your expectations. I’ve gone down that road, and it only leads to misery. Being an Angel is important to me. I would never betray you, and I need you to trust me.”
“I do trust you. And I love you exactly as you are.” He cupped her jaw in his hand. “My perfect Pippa.”
“I’m not perfect…” she began to protest.
His hot kiss claimed her breath. She debated arguing. Yet he overwhelmed her senses, and sighing, she surrendered herself to the joy of being in love.
Cull’s sense of foreboding came back full force upon their arrival at the de Tremblay manor. Set within a dark woodland, the secluded Palladian mansion looked exactly like the sort of place where bluebloods purged their ennui with decadence and debauchery. The torches that lit the drive added to the paganistic ambiance. Statues of the Greek gods loomed over the guests at the colonnaded entrance, as if welcoming them to Olympus on Earth. The elegant windows were curtained to conceal the lewd revelry taking place within.
Cull and Pippa were directed to the servants’ entrance at the back of the manor. A footman divested them of their outerwear and led them to the servants’ dining hall, where other performers were already lined up. Everyone was wearing masks and Grecian-style costumes. Noticing the men ogling Pippa, Cull stayed close to her and issued warning glares.
He trusted her. But he didn’t trust them. The bastards who coveted what was his.
“Now that is a glower worthy of Hephaestus.” A slender male with winged sandals that marked him as Hermes came up beside Cull, chuckling. “First time, eh?”
Cull narrowed his eyes, gripping the handle of his hammer.
Before he could reply, Pippa chirped, “Yes. And we don’t know what to expect.”
“I’m a repeat performer, and it’s simple, really.” Hermes’s mouth formed a smirk beneath his golden mask. “We’re here to stoke the flames by giving the guests a show. You can choose your own partner…or partners.” He waggled his brows. “Are you looking for a third? The guests love that sort of thing, and the gratuities are excellent.”
Pippa’s eyes grew wide, her cheeks cherry-red against her snowy mask.
A growl erupted from Cull’s throat.
“I’ll take that as a no. Pity, though. Given the size of your…hammer, I think we could’ve brought down the house.” Hermes’s shrug was good-natured. “Off to try my luck elsewhere.”
As the bastard sauntered off, Pippa whispered in a rush, “We’re not going to have to give them a show, are we?”
She sounded concerned. About bloody time.
“Worried, my reckless Angel?” Cull inquired. “And here I thought you were up for anything.”
“Not that.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Once we’re up in the public rooms, we’ll search for Ellis. Hopefully, we can find him quickly and get him somewhere private to interrogate him about Mary Brown.”
“As I mentioned when you and Lady Fayne cooked up this plan, I see no pitfalls whatsoever.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” she said crossly.
He was saved from replying by the butler, who began herding them up the stairs to the party.
Reaching the main floor, Cull set aside the idiotic hammer and took Pippa’s hand, leading a methodical search. He noted that footmen stood guard outside each room, controlling the flow of guests in and out. He and Pippa went into the drawing room first. The lamps, topped with crimson shades, cast a lascivious glow over the guests, who were crowded around an Aubusson.
Upon the rug, two couples were giving a show.
Two naked women wearing identical blonde wigs were on their hands and knees, facing one another. They let out simultaneous moans as their male partners entered them from behind. Titillated murmurs rose from the audience as the men’s thrusting pushed the women’s lips together in a frenzied kiss.
Cull slid a glance at Pippa. She was staring at the scene, transfixed. Her throat bobbed above the vee of her robe. The depravity affected her senses, which was only natural. Watching his sweet Pippa get stirred from all the wickedness was also damned arousing. When she swiped her tongue over her lips, his trousers grew distractingly tight.
“Do you see Ellis?” he murmured.
Swallowing, she tore her gaze from the performers who were now tangled together, the women sandwiched head to tail, the men switching partners and resuming their vigorous screwing. Pippa ran her gaze over the guests, many of whom were inspired by the performance to engage in debauchery of their own. Clothes rustled to the ground, accompanied by moans and grunts.
“I don’t see him.” She sounded breathless. “Let’s move on.”
The music room featured similar entertainment. Lying on her stomach on a piano bench, a brunette Athena received the attention of two men, one at each end. The fellow behind her was Hermes, who winked at Cull and Pippa as he dutifully pounded away.
Mischief sparkled in Pippa’s eyes. “I guess he found what he was looking for.”
“Keep moving,” Cull ordered.
They searched the library, billiards room, and dining room with no luck. The latter had erupted into a free-for-all, with a chain of naked guests writhing along the length of the table, no orifice left unfilled. No sign of Ellis there either.
They followed a long corridor to the back of the house, where a pair of burly footmen were posted outside the doors to a conservatory. One was dark-haired, the other fair.
“Here to try your luck?” the dark-haired one asked. “Word of advice: put your best foot—and other body parts—forward.”
“The master and mistress are entertaining discerning guests,” the fair footman added. “They’ve tossed two sets of performers out on their arses. Said the show wasn’t ‘authentic’ enough.”
Cull shot Pippa a look of warning.
She ignored it. “We’ll take our chances,” she said.
The footmen opened the doors, releasing a blast of warm, humid air scented with citrus. Cull led the way and saw that the conservatory resembled his glasshouse. There were even birds, but they were kept in gilded cages. Potted orange and lime trees lined the steel-and-glass walls, oil lamps providing a muted glow. At the center of the room, wicker seating formed a ring around a mattress heaped with pillows. He counted two couples and a trio occupying the chairs.
“That’s Ellis,” Pippa said in a hush. “On the chaise lounge with the couple.”
Cull saw that Pippa’s sketch had captured the fellow to a tee, from the dark-brown hair worn dramatically to his shoulders to the sculpted bone structure that his silver mask didn’t hide. His gaze was the same cold shade as his mask. He was lounging on the chaise, his head in the lap of a voluptuous brunette, who had to be Lady Effingworth. Lord Effingworth was on her other side, his arm draped around her shoulders.
The host and hostess, Baron and Baroness de Tremblay, were sitting on cushioned wicker loveseats…although not together. The baron had a naked redhead draped over him while his wife had a muscular blond fellow sitting on the ground in front of her. He wore what amounted to a loincloth, his head resting against her knee.
“Well, well,” Effingworth drawled. “Looks like more entertainment has arrived.”
Lady Effingworth raked a gaze over Cull. “They seem more promising than the last group. I was starting to think we would have to entertain ourselves.”
“That comes later, my love,” Lord Effingworth drawled. “If we can get inspired.”
“I do apologize for the earlier performances. Nothing is more tedious than obviousness.” Baroness de Tremblay had an affected lisp. “Good help is so hard to find these days.”
“Get on with it, then.” The baron’s voice was imperious as he gestured to the mattress at the center of the circle. “Entertain us.”
Dash it all. Pippa glanced at the mattress. Like the arena of the famed Roman Coliseum, it was surrounded by a ravenous audience who wanted to see their sport. She and Cull could make an excuse and leave, but they had finally closed in on Vincent Ellis. Their target…who held the key to their investigation.
I’m an Angel. I can handle this. Think.
Taking a breath, she willed the moment of panic to pass. She ran through the options. If she and Cull spooked Ellis now, they would have a difficult time getting him alone for the interrogation. They couldn’t physically detain him, not with all the footmen around. They could leave and try to keep an eye on him, but what if he got away? He’d proved to be as slippery as a lamprey.
She came to a swift conclusion: the best option was…to play along.
Cull stood behind her, aggression pouring off him in waves. He was braced to fight, yet that wouldn’t help them achieve their goal of getting Ellis alone. The situation required finesse. Her mind made up, praying that Cull would play along, she leaned back against him. The contact with his sinewy length sparked a sudden flame at her core.
He was aroused. Hard as a rock. From all the depravity they’d been witnessing, no doubt.
I like to watch,he’d told her more than once, and heaven help her, she was beginning to understand why. The lack of inhibition had lit a primal fire inside her. Made her aware of her desire for Cull, the pulsing, impolite enormity of it. She realized that she had to expend energy to keep her passion in check until the private moments when she could set it free.
She was tired of restriction. Of caging her wants and desires and keeping herself small. In this moment, she did not want to deny herself what she wanted.
Cull’s erect member pressed into the small of her back as she reached up her arm, cupping the back of his head. Twisting her neck, she looked into his smoldering brown eyes.
Trust me. She willed him to understand her thoughts. We can do this together.
His nostrils flared. Then he bent his head, taking her mouth. Her entire being shivered at the slow, deliberate kiss. He took his time, his tongue tracing her lips before plunging in between. She opened for him, taking what he gave her. She moaned when he drew her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently.
“Well, this is promising.” Lady Effingworth’s voice pierced the sensual spell.
Pippa had nearly lost track of the audience.
Ellis, who was sitting up now, spoke for the first time. “Come closer. I want a better look.”
Cull’s voice scalded her ear. “Are you sure?”
Breathlessly, she nodded. In the next instant, he swept her into his arms. He carried her to the circle, but he didn’t take her to the mattress. Instead, he chose an unoccupied loveseat, sitting and positioning her on his lap, her back to his chest.
Clever man, keeping both their gazes free to monitor Ellis, who was directly across the circle from them. He was watching them avidly while Lady Effingworth stroked his hair like he was a prized pet.
Pippa leaned her head to one side, exposing her neck to Cull. He took the invitation, dragging his mouth down the sensitive column and then back up. She grabbed onto his thighs, feeling the corded muscle as she squirmed on him with helpless delight. Without her petticoats, she felt every inch of his turgid cock. He licked the shell of her ear, flicking her plump lobe before drawing it into his mouth. His hot sucking pulled her nipples into visible points against her bodice, a gush of dew dampening her thighs.
She fought to keep her attention on her audience. To remember this was for show. The two other couples were kissing, as were the Effingworths. Ellis, however, had his gaze trained on her and Cull.
She drew Cull’s head to hers, whispering, “He’s watching. Keep going.”
Cull drew down the strap of her robe, exposing the rounded top of her breast but keeping her nipple covered. The possessive fire in his eyes blazed through her, his message clear. He would go along with her plan but on his terms. He would control what the others saw of her. And he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Love swelled in her. Cull was everything she’d fantasized about when she’d painted Portrait of a Lady Dreaming. The lover the lady with the red-gold hair had been looking out the window for; a man whose love expanded, rather than reduced, her world. A partner who allowed her to explore, and explored with her…and who always, always kept her safe.
Relaxing into Cull’s embrace, Pippa sighed as his mouth brushed along her shoulder. The hot kisses and tender nips raised goose-pimples on her skin. He cupped her breast, trapping the stiff tip between finger and thumb, making it jut out rudely against the thin fabric. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and she saw that he was looking straight at their audience as he fondled her.
His arrogant expression spoke louder than words. She’s mine. You can look, but you’ll never touch.
His possessiveness pushed a moan from her lips. Their audience echoed the sound, clothes swishing to the ground. Pippa’s blood rushed beneath her skin as Cull ran a possessive hand down her front and into the high slit of her dress. When he cupped her bare sex, she whimpered with need.
“What a wicked girl you are,” he rasped in her ear. “Getting wet from being watched.”
“That’s not why,” she gasped.
“Why then?” He stroked her slick folds, the sight of his hand moving beneath the fabric a study in eroticism. The suggestion of what he was doing was somehow more titillating than if the act were exposed. Their audience clearly agreed, for the sounds of coupling filled the room.
“Why is your cunny drenched, then?” Cull demanded in a harsh growl.
“Because of you.” He rewarded her honesty with a swirling touch just where she needed it, making her sigh, “Always you.”
“Remember that the next time you decide to play games.”
His reprimand made her wetter. Then he gave her mound a sharp slap.
Despite the thrilling tingles, she narrowed her eyes at him, and he gave a dark chuckle the instant before he plunged his fingers inside. Pleasure cascaded through her as he pumped his long, thick digits into her aching sheath. With his other hand, he played with her breasts, pinching and rubbing the tips through her bodice, her pearl throbbing in unison.
She felt how hard he was, his shaft an iron pole pressed against the crevice of her bottom. Leaning back against him, she lost track of the mission, the room, of anything but being in Cull’s arms. She stared up at the blazing stars, and the barrier of glass melted away.
Nothing held her back from her desires. Nothing.
In a dark, regal tone, Cull commanded, “Come for me now.”
Bliss exploded, and she soared into the night sky.
When she returned to earth, she was still in Cull’s arms. He held her securely while he kept watch over the room. As she gazed at his profile, her heart overflowed.
I love him so much.
“Get ready,” Cull said under his breath.
She swung her head to see Ellis approaching.
Lust glittering in his silver eyes, he said, “While my friends are otherwise engaged”—he gestured to the Effingworths, who were buried beneath a tangle of limbs on the mattress—“what would you say to a private tête-à-tête?”
