CHAPTER 22
HANNA DIDN'T KNOW WHAT she had expected when Gabriel told her they were attending a masked ball at an exclusive pleasure club. She had expected decadence. Even a bit of seediness and licentiousness. Certainly not the opulent fa?ade of a grand Georgian mansion, nestled in the heart of Soho.
Gas lights illuminated the driveway, casting more shadows than light. The footmen, attired in Renaissance costumes, helped masked and hooded guests alight from unmarked carriages. Their turn was next, and as the clock struck the eleventh hour, she entered the lavish mansion on Gabriel's arm. They entered unannounced, just like everyone else. Guests walked past the doors and presented a gilded postcard to a muscular butler who looked more like a bruiser than a high-class servant, despite his opulent uniform.
Gabriel presented his invitation and, with a nod, the butler ushered them into the club's grand ballroom. Candlelight lined the luxurious corridors, creating a gilded atmosphere. It created a scene reminiscent of the decadent festivities of Venice's famed Carnivale.
Three enormous chandeliers likewise illuminated the two-story ballroom, and a myriad of sconces surrounded the room, casting their golden light onto the richly ornate walls and the frescoed ceiling.
They entered the ballroom through the top floor, where a gallery ran along three sides of the room. Shadowy alcoves looked down onto the dance floor, from where the strands of a waltz floated up. Richly dressed patrons twirled about the room in a vibrant display of elaborate costumes.
She looked at Gabriel. His attire was more subdued, having opted to wear a black suit and cape. Gold embroidery adorned his waistcoat and mask, but that was the only break in his otherwise monochromatic ensemble.
"Shall we dance?" Gabriel asked, turning to her and meeting her eyes.
Her heart sang with anticipation. "Yes, I'd like that very much."
Bowing over her hand with all the elegance of a courtier, he led her to the dance floor and seamlessly glided into the throng of dancers.
The music flowed through her as he led her through every turn. He was a superb dancer. His arms were strong and possessive around her, holding her much closer than would be proper at a society event. But nobody here cared about rules. When he swept her into a fast turn, she threw her head back and laughed with exhilaration. His eyes, smiling down at her, warmed and flustered her at the same time.
It had been such a long time since she had danced with him. Not since the last ball she had held. And never in the past with such abandon and awareness of each other. Now, she was conscious of the firm hand that held hers with delicate care, of the hard body that pressed against hers at every turn, the arm across her back that held her securely. His aroma, spicy and fresh, teasing her nose and making her yearn to nuzzle his neck, taste his skin.
With an internal shake of her head, she dislodged such thoughts. Focusing instead on her steps, the music and the splendor that surrounded them.
When the music ended with a crescendo, she was out of breath and flustered. Whether from the exertion of the dance or her magnificent partner, she didn't know.
"Champagne?" Gabriel asked, anticipating her needs.
"Yes, please. That waltz was exhilarating, but I'm quite parched."
With a smile, he led her out of the dance floor, through a door, and into a sumptuous dining room. The immense table displayed many delicacies, neatly cut into bite-size pieces. They provided sustenance but did not weigh down the revelers with a heavy meal. The small portions also had the advantage of being able to be consumed with one's hands.
Gabriel fetched two glasses of champagne from a footman who was filling them from an ice sculpture and handed her one. The chilled beverage was delicious on her parched tongue.
"Hmm, this is one of the best champagnes I've tasted. It helps that they serve it at just the right temperature. Clever trick, the ice sculpture."
"I agree. I can't stand tepid champagne," Gabriel replied as he turned to the table and filled a plate with assorted delicacies.
Holding one in his hands, he presented it to her. "Open your mouth," he commanded.
Her face heating behind her mask, she did, and he pressed a small croquette into her mouth. Some devilish impulse compelled her to close her lips over his fingers, and his sharp intake of breath gave her mischievous satisfaction.
The morsel exploded in her mouth, the creamy filling seducing her tastebuds with fragrant spices.
"Hmm, delicious. You should try some," she said, running her tongue over her lower lip.
His eyes fastened there, and her lips throbbed with the heat of that gaze.
"Wicked," he intoned, before taking her hand and peeling her glove off, pulling it off finger by finger with exquisite sensuality.
"Feed it to me," he commanded when her hand was naked.
Spurred by the sensuality swirling in the air and the heat simmering in her belly, she chose a bite and presented it to him. He grabbed it without breaking eye contact, engulfing her fingers in the moist heat of his mouth, making her sigh when he caressed her digits with his tongue.
Singed, she retrieved her hand, but the naughty smile he threw her promised untold delights still to come.
Still sipping their champagne, they strolled to the other end of the room.
"I have to confess, this is not what I expected," she told him, speaking in a low voice for his ears only.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. But something more... decadent. Certainly not this elegant affair. The food and drink are superb. In fact, if not for the masks, and the shadowy corners, and the air of mystery, this could almost pass for a society ball."
He smirked. "Oh, this is no society ball. This is the tamest of all the entertainments here. I'm sure behind closed doors all sorts of debauchery take place."
Her eyes opened wide at this new information. "Will you show me?"
A small line appeared on his forehead, half hidden by his mask. "I don't know if I should. Some of it could be rather... graphic for a lady."
Oh, this was getting better and better. If she was interested before, now she was positively perishing with curiosity.
"Please, Gabriel. I want to know. I'm a mature woman, not a delicate maiden."
His hand came up to caress her face. The pad of his thumb brushing over her cheek with delicate tenderness. His gaze warmed her all the way to her toes.
"I know that. But you are deliciously innocent. I'm not sure I want to corrupt you."
Emboldened by the seductive ambiance, she stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. "A dash of spice can add flavor to a dish. I don't want to be sickeningly innocent. That could lead to blandness."
His powerful hands closed over hers on his chest, pressing them closer. "You could never be too sweet for me. And I will never tire of you."
"Still, I want to learn. Show me, Gabriel."
His breath stirred her locks and sent heat curling through her body as he pressed his lips to her ear and murmured, "As you wish, Duchess."
WHAT HAD POSSESSED him to bring a decent lady to a place like this? Not only that, but giving her a guided tour of all the decadence going on? He had only attended one of Anjali's entertainments before and had not partaken of the most risqué activities. He was no prude and enjoyed sex, but wholesale debauchery was not his style.
What must Hannah be thinking of him right about now? That he was a licentious rake? An immoral libertine? Damn it, he wanted her respect and admiration as much as he wanted her passion. This was not the best way to earn the former.
Although, come to think of it, she didn't look horrified. Curious, yes. Somewhat shocked, also yes, judging by the bright red hue of her cheeks and neck. But he could not detect any sign of judgment or censure in her.
They walked along the upper floor gallery. Every alcove they passed contained a couple, and sometimes more than a couple, engaged in some variation and degree of the sexual act. Women with bared breasts, a pair of bare male buttocks pumping between the legs of a woman—an image he wished he could scrub from his mind.
In yet another alcove, there was a lady on her knees... err, servicing a gentleman. The only reaction he could tell from Hannah was a tightening of her hand on his arm.
When they passed another alcove where two men were engaging with one woman, each taking her from a different angle, he judged she had seen enough. Her small gasp grated at his conscience. This is not why he had brought her here. He merely wanted to dance with her, hold her in his arms, maybe steal a few heated kisses in a corner. Everything he couldn't do at a society ball.
He leaned down, brushing her curls aside to whisper in her ear. "Shall we leave this place now?"
She turned, met her eyes, and for a moment, electricity seemed to crackle around them. He could read her body's reaction to the surrounding display. It provoked a similar response in him, and suddenly he was not so sure he could make it to his home before having her. That's not what he had intended at all. He would not have their first time together in a place like this.
But maybe he could indulge a bit. Take the edge of the desire they both felt. His hand came up to cup her chin, lifting it, feathering his thumb across her lush lips. He leaned down to kiss her.
"Gabriel!" a sultry voice dripping with sensuality and a tinge of amusement called from behind him. "I knew I had seen you before. So bad of you not to come say hello, mere priy."
He groaned inside. It was too much to hope that Anjali had not seen him. He knew she watched all comings and goings. Looking over her empire like the shrewd businesswoman he knew her to be under the guise of the seductress.
He straightened slowly and turned around. Offering her a smile and a look he hoped she could correctly interpret to mean he didn't want the details of their past relationship aired.
"Anjali. A pleasure to see you, as always." Taking her proffered hand, he bowed over it, bringing it to his mouth for a light kiss on her knuckles. "How are you?"
Her eyes warmed with understanding, and she gave him one of her genuine smiles; not the dazzling seductive smiles she reserved for her patrons, but a friendly smile.
"Better now for having seen you, old friend." She looked behind him, and her dark eyes assessed Hannah, who had gone still and silent. Anjali inclined her head. "Welcome to my establishment, my lady. I won't ask for an introduction because discretion is part of my stock in trade. But please know that a friend of Gabriel's is a friend of mine. If you need anything, you only have to ask."
He was about to reply on Hannah's behalf, sure that it must appall her that a courtesan and owner of the most notorious pleasure club in London addressed her. But once again, his duchess surprised him.
Inclining her head with an aplomb worthy of the queen, she responded, "Thank you, Miss Anjali. I must congratulate you on a successful event. The champagne is superb, and the food is exquisite."
He almost laughed at the compliment, offered as if she were praising a society lady on a successful ball. And completely ignoring the licentiousness taking place within a few feet of them.
Anjali smiled, delighted. "I like your friend, Gabriel. I must be off now, you understand, hostess duties. But please ask for anything you need. Adieu!"
With a saucy wink, she floated off in a cloud of veils and perfume.
Gabriel watched her retreating figure, taking a deep breath. Good thing the encounter was over. It had gone better than he could have predicted. Hannah had not seemed upset by Anjali's flirtatiousness. He turned to her.
"Is she your mistress?" Hannah asked point blank with narrowed eyes.
Oh, fuck. Maybe it had not gone so well after all.