Powder of Sin (6 page)

They stopped in front of a shop window where live
models moved as if time had slowed through a tableau of friends
meeting in a park. The scene was only slightly marred when one of
the girls dropped her fringed parasol.

He didn’t watch the window but kept his attention on
Miss Ambermere and tried to think of ways he might make her smile
at him. She had so many kinds of smiles—astonished, playful,
knowing. And she wasn’t afraid of using her expressive face. He
remembered that playful look of horror he’d seen her direct to her
companion that day.

“Why are you grinning?” She let go of his arm to
walk closer to a display.

“I’m, ah… Oh. I wasn’t aware I was.” He wasn’t
terrible at flirtation, but with Miss Ambermere, he realized he
felt as awkward as a boy fresh from school, encountering a female
in public. She leaned over and began a conversation with a small
girl pointing into the window. He missed her presence next to
him.

Good God. He was worse than a young boy—more
entirely, blunderingly blind, at any rate.

He hadn’t even recognized he’d developed what he’d
heard an American call a crush. Not the sort they’d just left
behind in the corridors of the hotel. He felt passionately drawn to
this woman.

Granted, he’d rather use his mind for something
other than male-female interactions, but this attraction to her was
more interesting than the tedious automatic arousal he felt when
escorting Clermont to the various dens of flesh and corruption.
Although yes, that sort of activity he wanted with her. He was
enveloped by the sudden and fierce desire he’d managed to control
for months. He longed to watch her air of competent dignity turn
into something wild. Not to defeat her, but to see that mouth open
wide in a cry of pleasure would be so sweet. The same sort of scene
he’d witnessed far too often, except this time he’d be the cause of
that glazed passion in her eyes.

Not a chance in hell or heaven he’d act on it. Not
with a lady like her. Slaking hunger for momentary satisfaction
made him no better than Clermont. That left only a longer, stronger
connection, but he had no interest in finding a partner for life,
not after that disaster with Lily. Should he ever seek a wife
again, she’d be a woman from his own class. The daughter of a
clergyman or a professor, perhaps. Even Lily, the squire’s
daughter, had considered her position in life too lofty for the
likes of him.

“You’re glowering now.” She had returned to his
side. “And I can see by the reflection in the window that you’re
looking at me. Should I have been introduced to that little girl
before speaking to her? Do I have a smudge on my cheek?”

“Oh no. Of course not. I beg your pardon,” he said.
“I ought to return to the hotel. Mr. Clermont will be expecting
me.”

He didn’t dare leave the idiot to his own devices
for more than half an hour, but this evening he’d be occupied for
at least four hours at the Lotus House. “Shall I call at your home
at seven?”

“Yes, please. You’ll have names for me then, I hope?
It’s vitally important that we find someone—a scientist—who can
help me deal with this.”

He probably wouldn’t have names, but it would give
him an excuse to spend time with her. Perhaps by then he’d have
regained his equilibrium. After months of exposure to writhing
naked bodies, he’d grown used to controlling his desires. He was
not used to this sudden, intense yearning for a woman.

As soon as he entered the suite, Reed knew he’d
stayed away too long. Carelessly tossed clothes lay on the
floor—nothing out of the ordinary, except resting on the man’s
scarlet-and-yellow waistcoat was a working woman’s thick stocking
and a much mended petticoat. He froze for a moment and listened. A
female voice moaned, but it was nothing like a sound of distress
he’d have to act upon.

More than once he’d had to rip Clermont away from a
protesting woman.

It hadn’t taken many days of acting the role of
keeper before Reed understood the extent of the man’s idiocy and
persistence. Clermont rarely believed a woman’s no. He once
explained. “
They don’t want to think of themselves as strumpets,
so they’ll whimper and plead, ‘No, no,’
” he had said in a
falsetto. Then he smiled and rubbed his pale, long-fingered hands
together. “
But they love it. They need it. The man who knows
what’s where on those delectable bodies will prevail
.”

Why Clermont hadn’t been jailed for ravishment was
only due to the vast fortune doled out for his “research and
escapades,” as he called them.

A woman’s voice called out something in another
language, and Reed decided it was probably a maid—again. He
relaxed; the cry was of astonishment and pleasure. No doubt about
it, Clermont was proficient. He knew more about a woman’s body than
most doctors did. Because of those “readings” of Clermont’s, Reed
did too.

Reed picked up the newspaper and settled on the
sofa. Not so long ago, he would have gone to his room to wait, but
he’d soon learned tact wasn’t as important as making sure the woman
would be fairly dealt with—and with discretion.

Within a few minutes, a young, dark-haired woman
emerged from the bedroom. Sure enough, she wore the black gown and
was tying the apron of a hotel maid as she walked from the room,
barefoot. She gave a little shriek when she spotted Reed. “Oh, sir,
I-I…” She put her hand over her mouth, covering suddenly trembling
lips.

He pointed to the chair where he’d laid her things.
“Good afternoon, miss. You’d best get dressed and return to work
before the housekeeper notices your absence.” He paused. “Only, do
not expect a repeat of today, do you understand?”

She sobbed. “You… Sir… Ah, no, no. I am a bad woman.
Ah, my Antony.”

“Your husband?”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she nodded,
incapable of speech. He couldn’t figure out why she looked so
horrified until he saw she was unbuttoning her gown again.

Reed held up a hand. “Stop. No, no. I won’t tell
your husband.”

She moved toward him, and he jumped up and backed
away. “I said no.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t need your
services to keep me quiet. Take your clothes and get back to work,
please. I shan’t say a word, and I’ll make certain Mr. Clermont
keeps his mouth shut as well.”

She’d be a description in Clermont’s dreary memoir,
but she’d never know.

As soon as the maid silently left the suite, her
head bowed, Clermont strolled out of his bedroom in shirtsleeves
and maroon braces, smoking a cigar and smirking. “A good one.
Undervalued and underemployed by her husband. They so often are.
Did you know she had no idea she could be brought off? Never so
much as touched herself enough to find the secret. It’s a crying
shame. A crime, really.”

Reed turned the page of the paper and tried to
concentrate on a story about a local murder. He might agree that
teaching a woman about her own body’s capacity for pleasure was an
actual service of sorts. But performed by Clermont?

And of course, the man couldn’t leave it at that.
“Hairier than I expected. And her nether lips were a trifle darker
and thicker than my favorite—”

Reed looked up. “I’m going to order food. If you
ruin my appetite again with one of your descriptions of eating a
woman’s private parts, I’ll beat you senseless.”

Clermont laughed. “You are the toughest audience I
have ever faced. Would you rather I described sucking on a man’s
parts? Hmm? Is that why you’re so disgusted? You like that idea
better?”

“Should I order for you, or will they feed you at
the Lotus tonight?”

Clermont frowned and didn’t answer.

“Well? What do you want? They do a good ragout in
the restaurant, I hear.”

“What I want. Ah, interesting question. I think I
have a new goal. I want to break you.”

Reed stopped pretending to look at the paper. “What
are you burbling about?”

Clermont was unusually serious. His pleasant face
was drawn into a rictus of a smile that made Reed’s blood chill,
but his words were worse. “I want to watch you go wild fucking a
woman. I want to see you lapping and sucking at her titties. At
first I would have been happy enough knowing you did it behind a
closed door, but you’ve proved such a tough case, I want to witness
your fall.”

“Leave me out of your plans, Clermont. I’m warning
you. Don’t even jest about bringing me into your strange little
life. Bad enough I have to witness and hear about it. I’m not
stripping off my trousers and joining in.”

“The last man my family hired gave in almost at
once. Made it far easier to get around him once I told him I knew
all about his delicious little interlude with a married woman.
Insatiable female finished up with me and tackled him, but he
didn’t know he was taking leavings from another man. He was much
less intelligent or careful than you. Thought he found her on his
own.”

“Sorry, you won’t be able to blackmail me.”

“You’re that perfect, are you? At any rate, I don’t
want to blackmail you; I want to break you. I already told you. I
think I’ll even pick out the woman and place for you.”

Reed shoved aside the paper and strode to the door.
Instead of summoning a bellboy, he’d go down to the restaurant and
order food to be brought up to the rooms.

And while he was downstairs, he’d take the final
step, because the time had come.

He’d send a telegram to England. Never mind the
enormous sums they paid him. As of this moment, he’d had enough of
Clermont’s games.

“I’d like the fish,” Clermont called after him. “I
find it goes well after the taste of woman. By the way, what woman
was waiting for me downstairs? Did you entertain her for me? I’m
disappointed you didn’t bring her up. It might have been delicious,
sharing treats.”

Reed slammed the door.

The crowds had thinned, and he had little trouble
ordering the food and dispatching a lad to send a telegram. The
moment he handed over the money—transatlantic telegrams were
expensive—he felt tremendous relief.

Freedom. He’d return to England and pick up again
with the inquiry agency he’d left. Quite a joke to think he’d
disdained that work and left it to take on the job of Clermont’s
keeper. Following an errant husband would be about as vile as this
work, but at least he wouldn’t have to listen to the husband’s
endless descriptions afterward.

Maybe he’d look for work in this country. After all,
this was the home of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.

He tipped his hat to a lady carrying a pug dog, both
dog and woman draped in furs despite the fine weather.

Pinkerton would be good, but then, there’d been
rumors lately that Pinkerton’s operatives had turned into a bunch
of roughnecks, trying to break the heads of workers and causing
disturbances in Cuba. Too bad. A good train or bank robbery
investigation would be the perfect antidote to Clermont and his
decadence.

He felt light-headed with relief, and a world of
possibilities opened up before him. With the money he’d saved, he
could take his time finding another job.

Reed ate his food and thought about all the
opportunities open to a man in this country. Then he recalled the
assignment he’d given himself—find a scientist for Miss
Ambermere.

He considered hiring one of the men hanging around
the oyster bar across the street. He might pay someone to play the
part of a scientist, but that would be a shabby trick. Even if the
substance turned out to be tooth powder, he’d take her request
seriously.

He wouldn’t hide the truth from her of what had to
be a hoax once it was revealed as silly nonsense. He imagined her
blushing and laughing at the revelation that she’d believed the
story about a real aphrodisiac. Somehow he knew she would not be
the sort to become peevish when she discovered she’d been taken in
by tales and impressive containers.

The ladies of the Lotus House, with their expertise
in providing fresh delights of the flesh, would keep Clermont busy
for at least four hours. Reed should be able to find the name of a
genuine doctor and still have time to see Miss Ambermere as well.
He quickened his step.

Miss Ambermere lived not far from Columbia
University, so he consulted the directory of professors there,
jotted down a few names, and walked over to her house on the
surprisingly quiet side street on the northern edge of Washington
Square. No costermongers here. The only sign of commerce was the
tolling of a knife sharpener’s cart bells and his halfhearted
shouts as he made his slow way down the block. His cries punctuated
the clop of the cart horse’s hooves.

Reed stood on the doorstep, waiting for the butler,
who eventually showed him into an empty room he hadn’t seen
before—a library. There was a prosperous yet well-used look to the
dark-paneled room, with its shelves of leather-bound volumes and
the leather chairs and heavy furniture. He remembered Clermont
telling him that she had inherited this house from her mother’s
considerably wealthy family, not bought it. He was used to that
sense of inferiority one might feel in the presence of old noble
families in England. This woman had intimidating ancestors on both
sides of the Atlantic.

Miss Ambermere came in, smiling. “I’m so grateful
you’re helping me. Please, take a seat.”

He sat down in a wingback chair near the room’s
largest piece of furniture, an old-fashioned mahogany desk.

“I have found some names for you.” He put the list
on the desk next to the chair before realizing it was a mistake to
do so. He should have tried to make some easy small talk instead.
Now he’d have no reason to stay.

“Would you like some tea?”

He’d eaten plenty but nodded. “Yes, that would be
wonderful.” He looked around the room. Once again they were without
a chaperone. He liked the implications. Perhaps she wanted more
intimacy. More likely, she trusted him to behave. Either reason
gave him hope. For nothing, he reminded himself. He should hope to
finish his business and be on his way, nothing more. He had nothing
to offer her.