Deeper in Sin (14 page)

But she had to think of her son. She had to forget love.

“Would you help me?” Sophie asked. “Do you think I could get a protector as I am? Do I need . . . work?”

Nell tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“I think I have potential,” she continued awkwardly. “I thought I might become the Duke of Caradon's mistress—”

“Caradon?” Nell cried. “You do aim high. After he returned a war hero, he was an utterly reformed rake. Many women want him; none have tempted him.”

“I thought I had. He took me to his home. At the last minute, he pleasured me, but then he decided he had to send me home.”

A biscuit dropped from Nell's fingers. “He took you to his home? To his bed?”

“Well . . . well, yes.” There were so many other details, but she didn't want to explain them all. And the things he'd told her, they were private.

They sipped tea. Nell studied her. “It is unfortunate the Duke of Caradon did not succumb to your charms, my dear. He is a wealthy man.”

And gorgeous. And he had done the most wonderful thing to her with his mouth. He had given her the very first climax she'd ever had.

Unfortunate
was hardly the word. Devastating. Disastrous. Heartbreaking.

“It was,” she said in a small voice.

“But there are more fish in the sea,” Nell said cheerfully. “I cannot see how you could not be successful. Your story has touched me, and I am willing to help. At the next Cyprian ball, which will be three days from now—”

“Three days!” Sophie cried. “I can't wait that long. He'll have come back by then. He'll—” She broke off.

“Who will have come back? Not Caradon.”

“No, not him. I can't talk about it. It doesn't matter.”

“I think it matters very much. You are terrified of this man, aren't you? He's threatened you, has he? With what? Hurting your child, perhaps.”

Sophie's heart almost stopped. “No. No, not that.” He's threatened to see her hang, and she knew that would mean disaster for her son, left alone in the world. But Devars had never threatened her boy directly. No, he wasn't capable of hurting an innocent child, she was sure of it.

“No, he hasn't done that. Because he knows he can hurt me.” She knew Nell was waiting for her. Waiting for a name. “I can't tell you who he is.”

“I won't help you unless you tell me everything.”

“Then I have to go.” She couldn't reveal what she'd done. It was too powerful and dangerous—she couldn't let anyone know she had hit Devars and that she had taken his bracelet.

Sophie stood. Blinking back tears, she hurried for the door.

“My dear, whoever you are, wait,” Nell called.

Sophie stopped. And she turned back.

 

This was it.

Tonight she would find a man—other than the Duke of Caradon—and she would convince him to make her his mistress.

Sophie licked her lips nervously. She sat beside Nell in the woman's carriage. They were traveling to a notorious private party in the country.

Nell had warned it was more scandalous than any Cyprian ball—and would be stocked to the rafters with gentlemen seeking mistresses.

Sophie shivered.

She
had
given up on Caradon. She had.

“Cold, my dear?” Nell asked.

“No.” Sophie pulled her cloak tighter around her. It was Nell's old cloak, made of dark green velvet. It was lovely and warm. She felt like an empress wearing it, though Nell had dismissed her gratitude. “It's not that kind, my dear. It's getting rather worn.”

She wore the same gown as she had at the other ball, of course. She owned no other dress. Would gentlemen remember that? Would it matter?

“I'm not cold,” she said slowly.
I'm heartbroken and fighting not to show it. Or even feel it.

“You are pining for the Duke of Caradon, aren't you?”

Sophie stared. “How could you tell? I'm trying not to show it.”

Nell smiled mysteriously. Nell was truly beautiful. Her face possessed fabulous bone structure. Her figure was trim. Lines bracketed her mouth and radiated from her eyes, but Sophie thought that made her look even more elegant and rather patrician. When Nell gave that enigmatic smile that barely curved her lips, Sophie could understand why Nell had been successful—she was still a mistress to a duke, Sophie had discovered—for she looked sensual and intriguing.

Sophie was no woman of mystery. She wore everything on her sleeve.

Nell watched her curiously. “You never did tell me what he did to you to make you besotted with him after just one night.”

He rescued her. He cared about her. He pleasured her.
Nell had coached her, taught her how to walk and how to look sultry. And had asked her a lot of questions about Caradon and what he was like as a lover. Sophie had been too shy to answer. And the things he'd revealed to her were private. She knew he would want them to stay secret.

“He was just perfect.” She sighed. “But it doesn't matter because I am over him.”

“You had best be. You won't find a protector if you are mooning over the duke.”

“I am not,” she insisted.

“Good. And you must be ready to be naughty. Are you afraid of being naughty?”

“Well . . . well, no. No, I don't think so.” She had wanted to try to suck on Cary's cock, and it had been surprisingly, wickedly fun. Until he had stopped her.

Nell put her gloved hand on Sophie's knee. “What you must understand is that many gentlemen want a mistress because it is only with them that they can get the strange, wicked, and sometimes perverse things they desire.”

“Perverse?”

“You will see. What you must remember is that wives are not supposed to do such rude things. They are ladies. You are supposed to look ladylike but provide a harlot's skills in the bedroom. That is why men come to you.”

Sophie nodded. “I can do that.”

“Even with a man who is not the Duke of Caradon?”

She so wanted it to be with the duke. “I need to find a protector within five days so I no longer care about the duke.”

“Your lover will expect you to take his cock in your mouth.”

“I know.”

“And some men enjoy putting their staff in a woman's derrière.”

Sophie blushed. That was what had been meant in that passage in the book. “Oh goodness!”

“Men are highly inventive when it comes to sex, dear. They will do the most remarkable things when driven by lust. Some like to tie a woman up, or spank her. Some enjoy inflicting pain. Some like to dress in a woman's clothes. Some like to be ridden like a horse. And for everything a man wishes to do to a woman, no matter how odd, there are always men who want it done to them. Do you feel you are up to that task?”

Was she? Sophie swallowed hard. But she must be. And she said, “I
will
be.”

“We will start you with someone easy, my dear,” Nell continued. “Someone who is not too demanding. I have a few gentlemen in mind.”

Sophie nodded. She should ask who. But she didn't care.

She couldn't help it. All she could think of was Caradon. She would try
anything
he wanted. But with another man—

“Have you ever fallen in love with one of your protectors?” she asked Nell.

Instead Nell said, “I have just realized that the night you spent with Caradon was the night that girl was murdered behind his mews. You must know all about it.”

Nell was watching her carefully, and Sophie realized Nell was not going to answer her question about falling in love.

“I don't really know all about it,” Sophie said. “The magistrate came and asked us questions, but we had been in bed . . . um, asleep for most of the night. I did recognize the girl though.” She realized she could maybe learn things from Nell. In the days since, she had seen stories in the newssheets about the murdered girl found in the mews behind the “Hero-Duke's” house. Gossip was already going through London that maybe the duke was not such a hero after all. Maybe he was a murderer.

But it was the insidious kind of gossip that couldn't be traced. Or stopped. Sophie kept protesting he was innocent to the few people she saw near her rooms. But no one believed her.

Maybe Nell knew something about the girl. “She was Sally Black, and she was at the Cyprian ball that night. She had an argument with Angelique. She must have been going to meet someone near the duke's house.”

“Or maybe she went to see the duke. You told me about that night. I am sure he didn't plan to be attacked. He might have made an arrangement to see her.”

“You think he killed her, just like all the other people who like sordid gossip. He didn't.”

“No, dear, I know the Duke of Caradon had no hand in her death—I knew his father well, and know that the current duke is a very noble man. A bit wild in his youth, but then he went to battle. Distinguished himself as a complete hero. He is not the sort of man to hurt an innocent. But I wonder why she was there.”

“I don't know. But at least you think he's innocent.” Sophie thought of how the village where she'd lived had reacted to her. Once she had been thrown out of her home, even before it had been widely known she'd been pregnant, everyone had judged her. “Why does everyone leap to the conclusion that he is guilty?”

“A duke and a war hero who has fallen from his pedestal? Unfortunately, that bit of speculation will be too delicious to resist. Some would be very delighted to see him hang.”

“But he's innocent.”

“Innocent men have hanged before, my dear.”

The carriage stopped. Nell's stunning white carriage looked like something Sophie would picture Marie Antoinette riding in—pure white, with light blue trim and curlicues everywhere. With blue ribbons and ribbons on the white horses.

Nell's footman, in powder-blue livery, rushed around from the back of the carriage, opened the door, and helped them down. They stood in an enormous drive in front of a house so large, Sophie gasped. Dozens of carriages stood in the drive. A crush of people made their way up the steps. Women held up velvet cloaks and silk skirts. The men wore immaculate evening dress. Everyone wore cloaks and masks—it was a masquerade.

“Here is a mask for you, my dear.” Nell held out a white mask and helped Sophie tie it in place. “Tonight you cannot think about Caradon. Remember.”

But he was all she could think about now! She was terrified for him. “But haven't you ever fallen in love with a protector?”

“I enticed aging earls and dukes for money. I seduced young titled men because it was fun. But love is a dangerous thing. If you want to survive, Sophie, do not fall in love.”

“My mother wrote about love. It was in the book she was writing about her experiences. She was always falling in love. That was why she had me. Because she was in love.”

“Then you must not make her mistakes, Sophie. And take this advice—do not ever be the first one to speak of love when you are with a protector.”

With that, Nell propelled her inside.

 

Sophie gaped in shock. In the foyer of the huge house, a woman stood on a low pedestal of marble. But she was shackled at her wrists and ankles. Her arms were lifted above her head, suspended from a gold chain that hung from a chandelier. Two women in only corsets and stockings were on their knees in front of the woman and behind her. Their bottoms were bare. Their breasts spilled over the corset cups.

Not only that, the kneeling women held the gauzy fabric of the suspended woman's skirt aside and thrust two long, dark phallus-shaped wands inside the woman.

Nell had been right. About bottoms.

Sophie's face was on fire.

The woman moaned. A strip of heavy white lace over her eyes, tied at the back of her head. The woman had red hair, henna red, and it hung to her waist.

Then the woman's moans came faster. The woman thrashed against the shackles, writhing wildly. Being suspended allowed her to move like a houri in a mad dance.

The crowd moving in pushed Sophie along.

But she couldn't stop staring.

As Sophie walked past the woman, she had to look behind to see what happened. The slit skirt was pushed aside to reveal a plump, pink bottom. And a wand of dark jade protruded from between the lush cheeks, with the other courtesan's hand wrapped around it.

A strange twitchy feeling struck Sophie all over. It seemed to shoot through her and throb between her legs.

The woman screamed, and Sophie knew she was having her climax. In front of all these people. This might be just a bit too scandalous.

“Nell—” she began.

But Nell did not stop. “Come this way, my dear. There is usually a rather thrilling display in one of the side rooms.”

A door stood open, but a curtain had been affixed in the entrance. Nell drew it aside. “Ooh, I do love games where handsome young men play together.”

Billiards? Cards?

No, it certainly wasn't that kind of a sport.

On a large mound of pillows, a man was on his hands and knees. A young man, beautiful as a Greek god with pale blond hair tied in a queue. Sophie's eyes could not go any larger. The young man on all fours took the cock of another young beautiful man into his mouth. Then a third man joined in, his breeches pushed down low on his hips. He took his long, jutting staff and worked it against the derrière of the blond.

Sophie retreated, face aflame.

“He pays for these tableaux to arouse his guests,” Nell said.