Strictly Forbidden (15 page)

On the final day of April, Darius arrived in London, Kira, Mr. Howland, and Cropthorne
in tow. Immediately, he left the strained threesome, intent on following Lord Vance.

Four hours later, he was greatly confused.

Darius caught up with Vance at the club he frequented, a dark establishment not at
all selective about their clientele. The rooms reeked of stale smoke and liquor and
shady dealings. Only the bare light necessary to read a hand of cards existed in the
place, and only in areas where squatted tables sat for such a purpose. Corners everywhere
were dark, ripe for mischief.

After belting back a few drinks, Vance, dressed every inch a dandy from his lace-edged
linen shirt, to his outrageous blue-green silken waistcoat, strutted through the club
as if he were a king. Darius wanted to punch the cad so desperately for the destruction
of his sister’s reputation that he grabbed the side of his trousers in his fist to
keep it as his side.

Not long after arriving, Vance left and headed to the shadowy streets about The Strand.
Darius trailed behind, watchful, waiting for any clue to prove the man was a liar.

Prostitutes with their skirts partly tucked up in announcement of their profession
walked the streets, many calling out to Darius with crude suggestions. Grimacing,
he moved on, following Vance, who finally ducked down a narrow alley several blocks
above the Thames.

The viscount looked over his shoulder, and Darius stooped behind the corner of an
abandoned building. Apparently satisfied with what he didn’t see, Vance knocked twice
on a door, handed someone money, then walked inside. Curious, Darius crept down the
alley, to the door, and knocked twice as well.

The door opened. A burly, bald man wearing a dingy white shirt scrutinized him. Darius
frowned at the delay, scanning the crowd of men for Vance.

“`at `e’ll be two shillings,” barked the attendant.

Darius handed over his money, feeling the big man’s eyes on him again. Uneasy, he
looked elsewhere.

“Welcome to The Temple.”

The Temple? Darius frowned and wandered away from the door, letting his eyes adjust
to the darkness as he skirted the perimeter of the vast space, an abandoned warehouse
that had been converted to…whatever this was. He spotted Vance in the middle of the
room, holding a drink and laughing as he stood amongst a group of young men, all dressed
with flair.

Movement on a small stage at the front of the room caught Darius’s attention. A man
of slight build dressed as a young girl in white lace stood in the middle and cleared
his throat. The crowd roared, whistling and shouting lewd suggestions. Darius scowled.
What manner of place was this?

The man began to sing in an off-key falsetto, to the rapture of the crowd. Darius
took the opportunity to turn back and study his prey.

But Lord Vance retreated to the back of the warehouse, striding beside a tall man
with dark hair and wide shoulders.

“Fancy Lord Vance, do you?” asked a young dandy who sidled up beside him until they
stood shoulder to shoulder. Before Darius could answer, the buck continued, “We all
do. There isn’t a soul here who wouldn’t give a fortune to spend an hour locked away
with the pretty rogue.”

Vance disappeared through a door, and Darius turned to his unwanted companion to find
the dandy sizing him up. The covetous tone of voice, the searching, hungry eyes all
sent a warning through his head.

He’d entered a haven of sodomites.

“Of course, you should have no trouble finding companionship.” The dandy smiled flirtatiously.
“You foreign men are so exotic and have a brooding quality I simply adore. I’ll wager
you are quite moody and all the more vigorous for it.” The dark
-
haired buck straightened the black velvet collar of his gold-tinged coat and eased
closer.

Darius scowled. “Is there an exit back there?”

“To the outside? No, merely private rooms.” Heaving a sigh, the uranian rolled his
eyes. “Still interested in Vance?” He sighed. “Of course. Everyone wants him, as if
he’s the only appealing man alive.”

With a smart click of his heels, the dandy departed. Frowning, Darius ducked his head
and headed to the darkened corner of Vance’s disappearance, one thought reverberating
in his head: if Vance preferred men, why had he proposed to Kira? Had he, at one point,
thought his image as a
n
upstanding peer would be maintained if he took a wife? Had Vance later developed
cold feet and turned Kira loose to suffer humiliation?

Twenty minutes later, Vance emerged again, alone this time. He wore a smile. Darius’s
gaze followed him as he strode through the room, over to a cluster of men, including
the dandy he’d spoken to.

With animated hand gestures the young man related something to Vance. Then he pointed
Darius’s way.

With a curse, Darius dropped his gaze to the floor and backed into a shadowed corner.
When he looked up a moment later, Vance shrugged and left the group behind. With determination
pounding inside him, Darius followed.

The night had already been full of surprises
. H
e wondered what more might be in store.

Whistling, Vance strode confidently up Newcastle Street, toward the theaters of Drury
Lane. The area was filled with well-dressed crowds since the Theater Royal had just
concluded the evening’s entertainment.

With a swagger, the viscount turned away from the throng, down a narrow walkway behind
the theater. Dark and isolation abounded. From a distance, a dog barked, the sound
echoing in the stillness. Vance looked behind him once, pale face watchful. Darius
tucked himself into the night shadows.

A creak broke the quiet moments later as Vance opened a door, spilling a trickle of
light onto the dark scrap of land behind the building. Darius waited two minutes,
then followed.

He opened the door to a dimly lit house, made darker by wallpaper in a midnight blue.
The sights and sounds of the place told him immediately the house was a brothel. Resting
above a roaring fireplace was a picture of a naked woman reclining on a mound of pillows,
her nipples almost covered by her white blond hair. Nearby, a handful of scantily
clad women sauntered or lounged, eyeing the male patrons. Perfume and sweat and the
barely definable smell of sex hung in the air.

If Vance had a sexual predilection for men and had just assuaged his appetite, why
had the dastard come here now?

Darius scanned the small crowd until he spotted Vance’s retreating form. He escorted
a
woman
with pale blond hair up a set of stairs and down a corridor.

Discreetly, he began to follow.

A fragile hand upon his arm stayed him. “Are ye lookin’ fer somethin’ in particular,
me fine gent?”

He glanced down into a woman’s young but worn face. She was not more than twenty,
he guessed, though he was hard-pressed to tell beneath her artificially black hair
and garish makeup. She had few curves, but her thin, boldly cut dress displayed most
of her pale bosom.

Frowning, he looked toward Vance, who held a door open for the woman he escorted.

“Who is she?” Darius asked.

The whore’s gaze flitted across the room to the large painting of the naked, fruit-eating
woman. “Mrs. Linde, the owner.” The dark-haired woman snickered. “Ain’t none of us
wot believes she’s ever been wed proper-like. Still, she don’t see many customers,
only a few particular ones.”

Was Vance a particular customer? Did he enjoy women too?

“The man with Mrs. Linde, do you see him with her often?”

She nodded impatiently, her lank hair brushing her scrawny shoulders. “Aye, and what
of it? Are ye here for a good tumble or to ask busybody-like questions?”

It wasn’t wise to admit the truth, Darius knew, so he smiled. “I’m very intrigued
by the owner.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll save ye the trouble of askin’ now. Mrs. Linde don’t take
customers she don’t know and the tuft betwixt her legs don’t match that on her head,
I hear. You want to know anythin’ else and it’ll cost ye.”

“Can you take me upstairs?”

“Aye.” The lightskirt smiled, a sultry moue on her face. “I’ll treat ye right, me
fine gent.”

Darius followed her up the gold-carpeted stairs. Her door was a mere two away from
Mrs. Linde’s. Once inside the woman’s room, his gaze was assaulted by red walls and
bedding, accented in black. It was as tawdry a room as he’d ever seen. The scents
of old perfume, tinged with the stench of male sweat, nearly gagged him.

Grimacing, he tossed a few coins her way. The whore quickly scooped them up and tucked
them away in a hidden pocket within her skirt.

With that, she plopped down onto the bed, released three of the buttons at her bodice,
and raised her skirt to her waist. With a wiggle and a bounce, her breasts sprang
free
,
and she exposed the dark mound between her legs.

Quickly, he looked away.

“Wot?” she demanded. “Ye want me on top? On all fours?”

Darius enjoyed sex as well as the next man, but
he
had more important matters to tend to now than partaking of her brash favors.