“What do you mean, you couldn’t find her?”
“Christian…”
Helene sighed as she untangled the salt-stained ribbons of her bonnet and placed it on the hall table. Judd helped her off with her cloak, pelisse, and gloves, bowed respectfully, and retreated to the basement. She turned toward the back of the house and made her way to her office, Christian at her heels. There was no sign of Lisette, a small mercy for which Helene was profoundly grateful.
Just as she sat down, Judd reappeared with a cup of hot chocolate, which he placed at her elbow. She smiled up at him.
“Thank you, Judd.”
“You are welcome, madame. Cook says to tell you to come and visit her in the kitchen as soon as you have finished your work. She is worried that you haven’t been eating properly.”
Christian muttered something under his breath as Judd winked at Helene and patted her hand. Helene took a sip of the hot drink and almost moaned at the deliciously sweet flavor.
“Are you going to tell me what happened or not?”
Helene eyed her son, who paced the rug in front of her desk, hands clasped behind his back.
“Marguerite and her new husband are apparently traveling through Europe.”
“Where exactly?”
“I have no idea. They didn’t leave a detailed itinerary with the hotel staff.”
Christian sat down with a thump. “Perhaps I should go after them myself.”
“You are welcome to try. Did you ever meet Lord Justin Lockwood?”
He frowned. “I think I saw them together walking in the grounds of the nunnery one day, but when I asked Marguerite who the man was, she denied having been there.”
Helene cradled the hot chocolate cup in her hands, enjoying the warmth seeping into her cold skin.
“It is unlike Marguerite to be secretive.”
Christian snorted. “How would you know? You know as much about her as you do about me and Lisette.”
Helene put down her cup. “Christian, I am tired. I have been traveling for over a week. The last thing I need is to be attacked the moment I walk through the door.”
“What are we going to do now?”
Helene struggled to ignore both his rudeness and his refusal to acknowledge how hard she had tried to find Marguerite. She got wearily to her feet, pressing her fingertips to the desk to counteract the swaying motion of a phantom ship, and moved toward the door.
“I have…friends who, given time, will be able to locate Marguerite if she is indeed in Europe.”
“Friends.” Christian’s expression was skeptical. “I cannot believe the sort of acquaintances you have, Maman, would be able to help us at all.”
She stopped beside him. “Just because you find it amusing to undermine and belittle me, Christian, do not assume that others do as well. I know more heads of state and leaders of government than you have hairs on your head.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I never realized whoring could be such an exalted profession. Are you the king’s mistress?”
“I am nobody’s mistress but my own.” With the greatest of difficulty, she forced her hands to unclench. “Good afternoon. Perhaps I will see you at dinner tonight.”
He stared at her, a perplexed look in his eyes that didn’t reassure her. It was as if he wanted her to fight with him, to show him that she didn’t care for him at all. From her sparse knowledge of him, it seemed Christian was as tenacious as she was about pursuing his aims. She doubted he would be prepared to leave her house until he’d heard better tidings of his half sister.
Despair shook through her as she took the back stairs down to her apartment. She’d told Christian the truth. Marguerite had left Paris and was heading toward Italy with her new husband. No amount of gold or threats had made the information any better or any clearer. Marguerite had gone, and there was nothing Helene could do but call in a few favors from some of her more influential clients, then sit and wait.
In the privacy of her apartment, Helene sank down on a soft chair beside the fire and covered her face with her hands. At least Marguerite wasn’t alone. From all accounts, the young couple had paid their bills and departed in style. Marguerite wouldn’t have to face the extremes Helene had. Perhaps she would even be happy despite the secretive beginnings of her marriage.
Helene stared into the flames as she pictured her eldest daughter’s dark hair, delicate features, and pale olive skin. Marguerite meant so much to her, a beautiful healthy child saved from the horrors of the Bastille. A thing of hope that had helped Helene survive.
It had been hard to leave Marguerite in the care of others. Helene had justified her decision by telling herself Marguerite would be safer in France than with her. The turmoil of the years since her children’s births had made removing them from the nunnery almost impossible. She’d regretted the necessity of that choice every day since, and now she felt even more of a fool. Was there anywhere in the world that was safe anymore? Helene closed her eyes and allowed herself to weep.
Four hours later, she studied her reflection in the long mirror in the first public salon. She’d chosen to wear blue silk, one of her favorite colors, in the hope that it might detract from the lines of tiredness stretching her skin and the shadows under her eyes. Diamonds glittered in her ears, around her neck, and on the heels of her shoes. Tonight she needed to look every inch the proprietress of an exclusive club rather than the distraught mother of a runaway bride.
“Helene, you are back.” She turned to find George bowing in front of her. His inspection of her was thorough and ended at her face. “You look tired.”
She sighed. “I’ve just spent an hour trying to create the illusion that I am twenty-five again, and you ruin it in one sentence.” She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the buffet table. “I’ve been busy.”
“Judd said you had to go to France.”
“Judd told you that?”
“Why? Was it meant to be a secret?” George paused as he handed her a glass of white wine. “We are still friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are.” She glanced up at him. “Did he also tell you about my guests?”
“No. That he kept to himself. You have guests?”
“The twins arrived, demanding I find their sister.”
“Ah, so that is why you went to France. To find Marguerite and to take the twins back to school.” He squeezed her fingers. “No wonder you are tired. That must have been quite an ordeal.”
“Worse than you think. The twins are still here, and Marguerite has eloped.”
“Good God,” George said. “Do you know who she married?”
“Some English peer, apparently.”
“Oh well, then I suppose you’ll let her have her way. No point in interfering if the girl has gone and gotten herself a title.”
Helene took a step back so that she could look into George’s face. His expression was calm, and he wasn’t smiling.
“I’m not happy about it, George. In fact, I wanted to ask for your help.”
He inclined his head, his eyes instantly full of concern. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“You have contacts in all the embassies in Europe. I’d be grateful if you could find out exactly where Marguerite and her husband, a Lord Justin Lockwood, finally settle down.”
“You think they might stay abroad?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
His smile was relaxed. “Absolutely. In fact, I’d probably not return until I had my son and heir in my arms to soften the hearts of my parents.”
Helene shuddered. “I have no desire to be a grandmother quite yet. I’d just like to know she is safe and well.”
“You’ve decided not to chase after her, then?”
Helene shrugged and set her wineglass back on the buffet table. “If I can find out exactly where she plans to reside, I’ll go to her then.”
“A wise decision. If she feels you are intent on discovering her, she might keep moving. I’ll certainly make some discreet inquiries for you at the various embassies.”
“Thank you, George.” She squeezed his arm. “You are one of the very few people who even know I have children. I appreciate your help.”
He kissed her fingers and then her palm. “It’s hard to believe you are old enough to have a daughter at all, let alone two.”
“Unfortunately, I find it all too believable at the moment. I will see you later, George. I must go and mingle.”
She disengaged her hand and strolled toward the main red and gold decorated salon, where a stream of people had begun to pour through the double doorway. As she walked, she nodded at those who greeted her and kissed her fingers to some of the younger men. It seemed that in her absence, everything had gone well. Her staff was well trained, and Judd oversaw everything perfectly.
“Madame Helene.”
A familiar voice and an even more familiar smile made her pause. A man emerged from the press of people and bowed. His golden hair glinted in the candlelight; his black coat and white linen were impeccably cut.
Helene extended her hand. “Gideon, how are you?”
“I’m very well and so is Antonia.” He looked around the rapidly filling room. “She’s here somewhere. I’ll tell her to come and make her bow to you later.” He beckoned to a tall gentleman standing just inside the door. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. My father asked me to sign him in as my guest.”
Helene’s gracious smile froze on her lips as the man walked toward her. The noise and chatter disappeared, leaving her in a frightening empty void of pure emotion. When their eyes met, she wasn’t sure if she was offended or relieved by the total lack of recognition in his gaze.
“This is Mr. Philip Ross.” Gideon smiled. “He’s recently inherited some fancy new title, but to my shame, I can’t remember exactly what it is.”
Helene moistened her lips with her tongue. “Mr. Ross, you are most welcome.”
“Madame.”
He took her cold hand, enfolded it within his, and brushed his lips over her skin with stiff, unenthusiastic propriety.
“Are you staying in London for long, sir?”
“It depends. I have some business to attend to. I’m not sure how long it will take.”
Hopefully not very long, Helene prayed. The Fates were definitely conspiring against her. Thank God the twins weren’t around. She frantically checked the crowd. It would be just like them to sneak into the packed salon without her realizing it.
“Madame?”
She forced her attention back to Philip Ross, noticed for the first time that he wore the dark somber colors of mourning and that his face was dour and unsmiling. In contrast to the flowing locks of his youth, his hair was now cut brutally short, accentuating the hard angles of his cheekbones. Would she have recognized him if Gideon hadn’t introduced him by name? He bore little to no resemblance to the laughing elegant man she remembered from eighteen years before.
She mustered a smile. “I beg your pardon, monsieur. Would you care for some refreshments?”
“No, thank you.”
Helene caught Gideon’s amused and speculative gaze. He’d probably never seen her quite so distracted before. She forced another smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
Gideon looked disappointed. “But, madame, I promised Philip that as my guest, you would give him a personal tour of the premises.”
“Did you?” Helene narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure Mr. Ross would rather spend his evening with you.”
“On the contrary, madame. Who better to show me around than the woman who created such an unusual establishment?”
Helene glanced sharply up at Philip Ross, who appeared to be smiling despite the dismissive bite of his words. She curtsied and raised her chin.
“I’d be delighted to show you around, sir. Gideon is right. I am extremely proud of this pleasure house.”
He placed her hand on his sleeve and nodded at Gideon. “Thank you for the introduction. Perhaps I will see you at White’s tomorrow.”
Gideon bowed and winked at Helene. “The introduction was my pleasure. Madame Helene holds a very special place in my affections.”
“Indeed.”
There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Philip’s voice this time.
Gideon raised his eyebrows. “I met my wife here. I’m sure madame will tell you all the details.”
“I’m sure she will.”
Gideon turned and went back toward the doorway, where a younger man stood waiting for him. Helene hid a smile as Gideon gave the youth a kiss on the lips. She cast a quick glance up at Philip.
“That is Gideon’s wife. She sometimes likes to dress as a man.”
Philip didn’t even blink; if anything, his gaze became even frostier. “And they met here. How…interesting.”
“Yes, it was quite romantic.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Helene led him toward the far end of the salon so that he could see the whole room. To her right, a group of young women and men were engaged in a game of cards that necessitated stripping off various items of clothing. Screams and giggles arose from the table as one of the women slowly rolled down her stocking and tossed it and her silk garter onto the steadily growing pile of clothing.
“These are the more public rooms. My clients are able to enjoy a series of entertainments, participate in group sexual acts, and enjoy themselves without worrying.”
“I can see that.”
Philip’s tone was scarcely encouraging, his face even less so.
Helene faked a laugh. “You disapprove, sir?”
“Of course I disapprove. Such behavior is scarcely appropriate in public, is it?”
“It depends how you define ‘public,’ sir. This is a private club. People pay to belong to it and for the privileges it offers them.”
“The privilege to behave like rutting fools.”
Helene shrugged. “There is nothing wrong with that, is there? Sometimes we all need to be foolish.”
“If you insist, madame.”
The scathing glare he gave her ignited something fierce and low in her chest. How dare he stand there and judge her and her patrons? She raised her eyes to his, a challenge in her gaze.
“Perhaps you should leave now, monsieur. This is only the beginning of the foolishness. I would hate to shock you.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I doubt you will do that. Please, show me more.”
“If you insist, monsieur.”
She led him back through both of the large public salons, making sure he got a good view of the naked jugglers and the exotic dark-skinned woman performing the dance of the seven veils. He said nothing and his face betrayed no emotion. What had happened to turn him into such a dull stick of a man?
In the hallway beyond the two salons, Helene paused.
“Beyond the public areas are more secluded rooms.” She gestured at the line of doorways. “On this floor, we cater to the more popular sexual fantasies.”
“How do you decide what they are?”
His quiet question surprised her, and she glanced up to find him watching her intently.
“Over the years, certain scenarios have been requested by our patrons many times. I keep a list of those favorites. When people stop enjoying a particular scenario, we simply change the theme and introduce another from our list.”
“How efficient.”
“This is a business, sir.”
Why was she so intent on impressing him? Not only had he forgotten her, but he was treating her achievements with utter contempt. What had he expected to find here? Hadn’t Gideon told him exactly what she provided? Well, if she couldn’t impress him, she’d make sure she shocked him right down to his conservative, fuddy-duddy—no doubt churchgoing—toes.
“Would you like to go into one of the rooms?”
It was a deliberate challenge, and she waited for his response with a calm smile.
“Why not?”
“Perhaps you would like to choose which room to enter. The themes are on the doors.”
He glared down at her. “I’d rather you chose. You are the expert.”
At random, Helene pointed at the third door on the left. The plaque on the door read BLIND MAN’S BLUFF. “Let’s go in here, shall we?”
He followed her into the darkened room and took a seat next to her. She focused her attention on the center of the room, where an oiled naked man was being tied to a black-painted backdrop. A narrow white silk scarf covered his eyes. When the man’s hands had been secured above his head and his ankles locked in place, a collective sigh of feminine approval echoed around the room.
Helene hid a smile as one of the women in the audience crept forward and began to touch the man. Soon, a sea of females surrounded him, sucking and licking his skin, kissing him on the mouth, caressing his erect cock.
Beside her, Philip Ross shifted in his seat. Did the erotic tableau arouse or disgust him? Helene couldn’t tell in the half-darkness; all she could sense was the heat and tension radiating from him. She risked a glance at his profile and saw his gaze was fixed on the scene, his mouth a hard line. He shuddered as one of the women fell to her knees and drew the man’s cock into her mouth.
“I refuse to watch such—”
He got to his feet and blundered toward the door. Helene followed him out as quietly as she could. She found him farther down the deserted hallway, his back to the wall, his hands clenched at his sides.
“Monsieur? Are you feeling unwell?”
He raised his head to stare into her eyes, and she experienced a moment of pure fear.
“How should I be feeling after being forced to experience such appalling behavior?”
“I’m not quite sure what you found appalling, sir. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely.”
“Apart from that poor man, beset by those harlots.”
Helene allowed him to see her smile. “That ‘poor man’ has been waiting a month for that experience.”
“Are you trying to tell me that he wanted to be used like that?”
She shrugged. “This is a house of pleasure, sir. If that is his notion of pleasure, then I can only offer him the opportunity to enjoy it.”
“Ah, so those harpies are paid to pretend to enjoy him.”
“Not at all. Everything offered here is a choice. No one is forced to do anything.”
He snorted. “I hardly think any respectable woman would choose to behave like that.”
Helene took his arm and guided him to the far end of the hallway, where there was less chance of them being overheard. He turned to stare out of the narrow window, his shoulders set and his back stiff. Helene studied his rigid profile.
“You might be surprised what a respectable woman wants. Almost all the women in that room are titled ladies.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “I can only apologize. Perhaps I chose a room your wife would’ve preferred more than you.”
“My wife would never stoop to such salacious behavior.”
“Perhaps you should bring her here and see if that is true? You might be surprised.”
He swung around to face her more fully. “My wife is dead. But I can assure you that such erotic displays would have shocked her immeasurably.”
How terrible for you. It took all of Helene’s resolve not to speak the words out loud. If Philip’s wife had indeed been such a lady, it was no wonder he looked so repressed and unhappy.
She took a deep breath. “I apologize again, sir. I should not have mentioned your wife.”
“Why not? I’m sure you’ve been wondering about her all these years.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Philip shrugged. “You know who I am. Don’t try and lie to me.”
“Indeed I do, monsieur.” Helene paused to gather her defenses. “I thought you must have forgotten me, and I hesitated to remind you of my existence.”
His smile was almost a sneer. “How could I forget you? You haven’t changed at all.”
Helene touched her face. “That is hardly true. I am no longer eighteen.”
His laugh was harsh. “Thank God for that.”
“I’m not quite sure what you mean. I’m certainly glad I’m not eighteen anymore. I make far wiser choices than I did then.” She swallowed hard. “I sincerely regret my comments about your wife. I did not intend to cause you pain.”
“You did not intend to cause me pain.”
His loaded words hung in the air between them, throwing her back to the nights they’d shared, the feel of his skin against hers, his laughter and the delights of their lovemaking. Had she hurt him? Helene focused her attention on his plain white cravat to avoid looking into his face.
“Why are you here, sir?”
“Because Lord Gideon Harcourt brought me and because I’ve often wondered if the infamous Madame Helene could possibly be you.”
“I am infamous?”
He bowed. “You are renowned as the woman who can have five men a night and still be looking for another for breakfast. A woman who only has to look at a man to drive him to his knees and make him forget anything but having you.”
“If that were true, I would indeed be an amazing woman. But I have learned never to listen to gossip.” She tried to laugh. “And now that you have seen me, what will you do?”
He raised her chin with his finger. “Surely that depends on you?”
“I do not understand.”
He bent his head until his mouth met hers and outlined her lips with his tongue. Before she could protest, he kissed her, backing her up against the wall while he ravaged her mouth. She responded from somewhere deep inside as his remembered texture and taste flooded her, taking her off guard and into a world of pure sensation.
She flattened her hands against the grooved wooden paneling to stop herself from touching him. She couldn’t stop her reaction to his kiss, which was as immediate and heated as his own. His body pinned her to the wall from knee to neck; his cock was hard against her stomach.
When he drew back, she would’ve stumbled if he hadn’t caught her arm and pushed her back against the wall. She watched as he retrieved his handkerchief and deliberately wiped the red stain of her lip color from his mouth.
“You did say that no one gets paid for engaging in sexual activity in your establishment?”
Unable to speak, Helene simply nodded. He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.
“Then perhaps you’ll fit me into your no doubt already full roster for tonight.”
A roaring sensation destroyed Helene’s common sense. She stepped forward and slapped him hard on the cheek.
“I also said that everyone here has a choice to participate in sexual acts or not.” She curtsied. “Good night, Mr. Ross.”
He shrugged. “Let me know when you change your mind. I’m sure you’ll run out of men soon.”
“I wouldn’t bed you if you were the last man on earth.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is that a challenge? You should know better than to throw down the gauntlet like that.”
“Good night, Mr. Ross.”
Helene gathered her skirts and turned away from him, heading for the private areas of the house. She wanted to run from the cynicism and dislike on his face but refused to give him the satisfaction. How dare he appear and insinuate that she was in some way responsible for how he had turned out? If anyone had a complaint to make about the results of their night together, surely it was her?
Mon Dieu, the twins…She touched her fingers to her lips, remembered his possessive kiss, and shivered. Despite her annoyance, if he had kissed her for much longer, she would have entwined her arms around his neck and held him close. That would’ve been a huge mistake. With the twins being in the house and Marguerite’s disappearance, she was far too vulnerable to deal with Philip Ross at the moment. Hopefully he had seen what he wanted and would now leave her in peace.