Page 12 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

She would not indulge it. Darcy refused to dwell upon a gentleman’s beautiful eyes or the cold indifference that had cut like a knife.

CHAPTER 5

Aphrodite was, as ever, a lively temple to carnal decadence. Lively yet haunting music drifted from the grand salon, a low, sinuous thread beneath the buzz of laughter and the clink of crystal. Perfume hung in the air, sweet as bruised peaches. Sebastian felt the familiar shift that came whenever he crossed this threshold, as though the world beyond its doors had fallen away and the urge to unwind and indulge uncoiled through his body.

He had not meant to come, but habit and restlessness had carried him here. The hall was crowded with gentlemen and beauties in silk peignoirs and smiles. A pair of masked ladies, draped more in confidence than in clothing, measured him with frank interest. He acknowledged them with the faintest nod and let his gaze move on. Not tonight. A figure detached from the flow near the card room. Thomas, Earl of Radbourne, lifted a brow as if he had discovered an anomaly in his own drawing room. Marriage had made him more settled and at ease; happiness had smoothed the old, jaded boredom from his eyes. Even so, it still startled Sebastian to find him at Aphrodite, though Radbourne now came for company rather than temptation.

“It looks like you could use a drink,” Thomas said, grinning lazily. “Or perhaps what you need is several rounds of wicked sport. Madam Rebecca has three new girls. Can you believe she tried to send them to me? I am astonished she has no fear of my darling wife carrying out her promise to skewer her for the audacity. Shall I make the introductions?”

“Not interested,” Sebastian said, scanning the room. “I am here for⁠—”

His mind blanked, and he could not finish his sentence. What in God’s name was he doing at the pleasure palace?

“Your refusal explains Madam Rebecca’s despair,” drawled another lazy voice at his shoulder. “She swears she is losing patrons. She named you among the faithless, and I assured her she must be hallucinating.”

Sebastian turned and smiled despite himself. “Templeton.”

George, Viscount Templeton, was everything his enemies in the House of Lords feared and some of his friends secretly envied: a libertine who could skewer a bill with a phrase and charm a duchess out of a prejudice. Tonight, he wore a black coat, a faintly amused mouth, and the look of a man who knew where all the good cards lay. Sebastian had met him as a lad at Eton, and they had been fast friends and confidants ever since.

Templeton’s silver-dark gaze gleamed with its usual debauchery and wit. “I arrived with Grantham. I shall fetch him, ah…there is no need. Speak of the devil, and he obliges.”

Kenneth Collingwood, the Earl of Grantham, was another friend whom society had long since judged a scoundrel rather than a gentleman. Yet he had never taken one of Aphrodite’s celebrated courtesans to his bed; Sebastian sometimes suspected Grantham attended solely to be an irreverent thorn in Madam Rebecca’s side.

“Come,” Templeton said. “The second-floor rooms are quieter. Radbourne, Grantham, and I shall rescue you from the boredom so evident in your gaze.”

Sebastian chuckled. They climbed the broad stairs, passing a coterie gathered at the landing to watch a dancer undulate behind a gauze screen. The dancer’s shadow arched like a bow and brought a murmur from the crowd. Sebastian did not slow. The private room they chose had walls the color of good claret and a long table set for faro. Several lit candles pooled soft light upon green baize; a chandelier gilded the edges of a portrait of Aphrodite rising from the foam, painted with such frank delight that the goddess seemed about to step down and claim a chair. Two courtesans, beautiful and scarcely dressed, lounged upon a chaise. They brightened when the gentlemen entered.

“Not tonight, darlings,” Radbourne said, polite and clearly untempted. “We require privacy.”

They pouted prettily and drifted out, leaving behind a ghost of perfume and orange blossoms. A footman appeared with a tray. They took brandy without speaking. Sebastian let the first sip burn a clean line down his throat. For a time, he remained silent and let the tension unspool from his shoulders. He dropped into an armchair by the fire and sprawled there, indolent and wholly ungentlemanly.

Radbourne settled into a chair and stretched his long legs. “Have you heard about Madam Rebecca’s latest scheme to wake the jaded?”

Sebastian frowned. As one of the silent investors in Aphrodite, Madam Rebecca usually shared the schemes she devised to make money and keep patrons eager. He dimly recalled her proposal last week and the role she wished him to play. Bloody hell.

Radbourne continued, “Rebecca claims she is losing patrons to ennui; many long-standing members are marrying or taking permanent mistresses, while others confess themselves bored. She means to give them something worth howling over.”

Templeton laughed. “We are all hoping for another titillating auction like last year’s.”

Sebastian arched a brow. “What will be the new source of delight for her clientele?”

“She is assembling a private art collection,” Radbourne said, swirling his glass. “Paintings to titillate and shock. She wants real patrons captured in flagrante delicto. She says it will be the height of seduction and scandal. Anyone who wishes to view this titillating gallery must pay a premium for the privilege.”

Sebastian chuckled as the earlier conversation returned to him. “Rebecca is nothing if not inventive; it will bring half of London’s scoundrels back to her doors. Her note delivered to me earlier makes sense now; she wrote of a “most delightful indulgence.” She wants me to pose for her painter. A trial, to discover whether the artist possesses sufficient skill, nerve, and discretion for Aphrodite.”

Templeton’s smile sharpened. “Will you do it?”

“I might allow myself to be painted while tupping,” Sebastian said, voice dry. “But it is the last thing on my mind.”

“You do look distracted,” Templeton said lightly. “Cards may help. Or confession. I am a dreadful listener, but I can be bribed with an orgy later on.”

Radbourne gave Sebastian a more sober look. “What troubles you? We are here, should you wish to speak of it.”

Sebastian let the silence hold. Somewhere below, laughter rose and fell like a tide. “Three girls and one young woman appeared on my doorstep a few days ago. They claim to be my family.” In a clipped tone, he told them everything.

Grantham studied him. “Despite this indifferent façade you wear, you are bloody furious.”

Sebastian raked his fingers through his hair. “My mother is unwell. It is why she has been sent to Bath. The physician warned that any severe shock might endanger her heart. If she learns my father kept another family, I believe it may kill her.” His grip tightened around the glass. “She speaks of their marriage as the great love of her life. It is the reason Caroline refuses to marry without love and why my mother encourages the foolish hope. How am I to tell either of them that the man they worshipped betrayed them for years? That the man she still loves, mourns, speaks to as though he stands beside her, betrayed her faith so completely. I will not be the one to turn every cherished memory into a lie.”