by Alyson Chase
Society was full of idiots. She’d always known that.
“What did he do to you?” She was frightened to hear the answer. Didn’t want those images in her head. But, like her, his imprisonment was a part of his being, and she wanted to know all of him.
Julius turned his head. “It’s not something a woman should hear.”
“Tell me anyway.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and he shook his head.
Amanda pinched her lips together. “Then tell me who daimyo Muragachi was,” she said, her tongue tripping over the unfamiliar words. “Why did he hold you?”
Julius closed his eyes, and Amanda didn’t think he would respond. Turning away, he pressed his palms flat on the bureau, his head sagging. “Muragachi was a local warlord. The magistrate of Nagasaki sent me to him to serve my sentence after I was captured from the HMS Phaeton. We’d sailed into Nagasaki harbor in order to ambush Dutch trading ships that were soon to arrive.” His fingers whitened as he dug his nails into the wood. “We had the superior force. The Japanese cannons in the harbor were old, most of them inoperable. Under a Dutch flag, we sailed into the harbor and waited like a spider for its fly as a tender with Dutch and Japanese representatives rowed out to welcome us. We captured the Dutchmen, but in the fight the Japanese jumped into the water and swam back to shore. I was knocked overboard, as well, and nearly senseless. I was taken, the only Englishman captured.”
“But if you had superior force, why were you not rescued?” How could he have been left behind? Wasn’t the British navy supposed to look out for their own? Her heart burned.
Julius snorted. “Superiority can be fleeting. The magistrate had sent for reinforcements. Eight thousand samurai and forty more ships. Captain Pellew knew he couldn’t be in the harbor when they arrived. He couldn’t risk the lives of two hundred and eighty men just for mine.” He was quiet a moment. “The Dutch trading ships didn’t even come that year. It was all for nothing.”
Amanda tapped her fist against her lips. She leaned against the desk for support. If he could remain stoic in the telling, she could for the hearing. With an effort. “And your imprisonment? You were there for three years, were you not?”
Pushing off the bureau, Julius turned and paced to the fireplace. “My imprisonment was … instructive. The samurai have turned ropework into an art form. I learned much by feeling the rope on me, and watching them tie it. Later, as I became more respected, they taught me their techniques.” He cocked a hip against an armchair. He smiled but it was twisted and bitter. “You have my gaolers to thank for our intimate pleasures.”
Amanda swallowed, tasting bile at the back of her throat. “How can you even look at a rope, much less use one?”
He stalked towards her. “How can you sleep in a wardrobe? How can you tolerate the ropes clinging to your body? If you can tell me that, I’ll try to come up with an answer for you.”
Holding her hands to her chest, she shook her head. She couldn’t explain any of it. She let out a shuddering breath. “If you ever want to talk about—”
“I won’t.” A muscle twitched in his jaw but otherwise his face was expressionless. She felt the wall he’d erected as though she’d run headlong into it. That didn’t mean she had to accept it.
She cupped his cheek, his skin warm and scratchy beneath her palm. “I’m sorry. You must think me so weak when you had to endure much worse.”
He stepped back, and her hand fell to her side. “It isn’t a competition, who had it worse,” he said gruffly.
Amanda nodded, her chest aching. Her heart thudded dully behind her breastbone, and she watched in resignation as he took another step away. As if her presence was a burden.
She was becoming confused again. Mixing up what she felt in his bed with what she felt for the man. Julius didn’t owe her his confidences. And he didn’t owe her tenderness. He was doing her a favor, teaching her of what was possible between a man and a woman physically, and nothing more.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned. “What—” He threw his shoulders back. “Reggie!”
The dog gave one last lick to the now clean plate and jumped off the bed. He kept to the walls as he trotted to the bedroom door and escaped.
Julius slammed the door shut behind him. “I can’t believe that animal belongs to Marcus. My friend breathes order and discipline. I would think his dogs would be better trained.”
“Reggie is my sister’s dog.” Amanda wrapped her arms around her sides. “Liz doesn’t mind a bit of spirit.”
“Yes, I noticed that about your sister.” He paced across the room. “But that doesn’t—” He froze. “What are you doing?”
Tugging at the shoulder of her dress, she tried to pull the buttons running down the back into reach. “I’m undressing. You are in my room and have closed the door.” She might not have his confidences or his love, but she had his body and she was determined to make the most of it. She twisted her arm behind her, her fingers brushing the fabric-covered buttons but not quite able to push them through their holes. Why had she let Julius dress her in such an impractical garment? All dresses should be made with buttons running down the front. It only made sense.
“And is that what you want?” He circled behind her.
Amanda dropped her arms and rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the ache. “Honestly, I am indifferent at the moment. But the world seems clearer when we are in bed together and I am less confused. Everything there is straightforward.” Striving to fulfill a physical need was simple, unlike satisfying her emotional state.
“Indifference is a poor argument for bedding someone.” He squeezed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “And that isn’t why I came to your room tonight. I have a request to make of you.”
“And it’s not a request for something special in …” She nodded her head at the bed.
“It is not.” Julius tugged at the knot of his cravat. “I want you to accompany me to a club tonight. I need to ask someone questions, and it will look better if I bring a guest with me.” He rubbed his earlobe. “As I won’t be engaging in my usual activity at this club, you will serve as a distraction of sorts.”
“You think it will look less like you’re a spy if you have a woman on your arm.” Sound reasoning, but they both knew he’d have to find a different woman. A woman who wouldn’t shake with terror from stepping out of doors. One who would stand by his side, laugh at his jokes, purr like a cat in heat under his attentions.
Amanda had a feeling she wouldn’t like this woman.
His jaw dropped open. “How did you … why would you …?”
She took pity. “My sister. She knows that her husband and his friends work for the Crown. Did you really think she wouldn’t tell me?”
He locked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “I hope you will be more discreet.”
Amanda stepped forward and poked his chest. “Liz isn’t running around telling everyone your business. Only me.” National security was important, but sisters didn’t keep secrets. Especially her and Liz. They’d agreed they would never keep anything from the other again. Not after Liz had discovered that their father had been abusing Amanda, and Amanda had never told. “And even if I were so inclined to gossip, which I’m not, who would I tell? I have no friends or associates.”
Julius looked at her with sad eyes and stroked her hair. She leaned into his touch, her flash of anger burning itself out. With a hand at her lower back, he led her to the bed and prodded her shoulders until she sat. He settled next to her, resting his bent knee on the mattress so he could face her.
“I trust you to keep my secret.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Will you help me tonight?”
She pulled his hand away from her face and clasped it between her own. “You know I can’t.”
“You won’t. There’s a difference.”
“Not to me,” she whispered. Her chest burned with shame. Her fear had never truly affected her before. She was
content to live hidden away. Even her sister’s admonitions to leave the house didn’t sway her. But Julius had asked for her help, and she couldn’t give it.
For the first time, she wished she were brave.
With a finger under her chin, Julius tilted her face up to look at him. “You cannot spend the rest of your life within doors. You need to try to break out of your prison. And you’ve started. You hardly pause when you leave the house to go into the gardens now. Tonight will be a perfect opportunity to test yourself further. And I don’t think it will be as difficult as you imagine.”
“Why?” Her mind raced, searching for his angle. “Because my duty to my country will overcome my fears?”
He laughed, throwing his head back and exposing the thick column of his neck. Tapping her nose, Julius shook his head. “No, mouse. After what your country almost did to you, I don’t think you owe us anything.” Leaning close, he planted his hands on the bed by her hips, caging her in. “I think tonight you will find the courage because it won’t really be you leaving the house. It will be a different woman. An intrepid woman. A woman in disguise.”
Chapter Ten
A disguise was one word for her outfit. A straight-jacket was another. Yet Amanda couldn’t deny that the French corset, binding her all the way from her hips to her breasts, made her feel secure. She might not be able to draw breath, but she was locked up tight, just as she liked. Breathing was overrated anyhow.
Reaching under the hood of her cloak, she fingered the mask Julius had given her to wear. It was crimson, to match the corset, with feathers extending from the edges. It was beautiful, but what earned Amanda’s admiration was the fact that it covered half her face, making her anonymous. Her heart had barely raced above a flutter when she’d exited the townhouse, concealed as she was. And even though Julius had opened the windows of the carriage, the darkness outside could almost make her believe she was still safely ensconced in her room, not racing through London to a club Julius belonged to.
A Venus club.
Amanda had thought that nothing could shock her senses any longer. She’d been wrong. Julius had spent the first part of their journey describing The Black Rose as though it was nothing more out of the ordinary than a stroll around the Pump Room.
She’d never known that men’s appetites could be so … varied. And the women’s, too, as Julius was quick to point out. Amanda shifted in her seat. For once she’d have news to write to Liz. Her sister’s letters from Italy were full of new discoveries, descriptions of art and architecture, admirations over the food. Amanda could only respond that she and Reggie fared well. Her letters were all of three sentences long. Now she would get to tell her sister about a new experience.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and Julius pushed open the door and hopped down. Amanda could hear the footman huff, and she smothered a smile. The duke’s household were an unfortunate lot. With their master and mistress gone, they served a woman they didn’t want to, and weren’t allowed to serve the lord they did.
Julius stretched out a hand, and she grabbed it, holding on tightly. She could do this. Two steps down to exit the carriage. Her feet froze when she saw the cobblestone of the street below. Could she do this? Perhaps it would be better—
Julius yanked on her hand, and she tumbled down the steps, landing heavily against his chest.
His arm banded around her waist. He tugged her hood further down her forehead and leaned close. “No one can recognize you,” he whispered. “You can stay wrapped up in your cloak all night, if you wish. Although it would be a shame not to show off how lovely you look in that corset. And”—he traced the ridge of her mask over her nose—“I’ll be by your side all night. You are perfectly safe.”
Amanda nodded. She hoped he was right. Her palms were damp inside her gloves, and she didn’t think her struggle to breathe was entirely due to the tightly-laced bodice. But she had to take the chance.
She held onto his hand like she was drowning and let him lead her past a footman at the door to The Black Rose.
The bright lights of the gas lamps on the walls made her blink. She’d expected dimly lit rooms, with shifty-eyed patrons. Not the tasteful soiree they’d stepped into. The artwork along the walls was elegant, and the plush, embroidered settees scattered about the room fashionable. The walls were covered with hand-painted paper in designs of gold, and candles winked through crystal prisms in the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
Two men sitting in the corner glanced up at their entrance. Apparently finding nothing unusual in her cloak and mask, they returned to their conversation. A woman carrying a tray of drinks circulated the room, trading full glasses for empties.
“This isn’t what I expected from a …”
“Venus club?” Julius provided helpfully. “What did you expect?”
“Well …”
“Women dancing naked? A seething den of iniquity?”
Amanda flapped the hem of her cloak, the crackling fires on both sides of the room making her sweat. “Well, yes. I expected people to be doing more than drinking and talking.”
Julius placed his palm on her lower back and guided her slowly around the room. “This is the main room. It’s like a normal club, where members meet and talk. Sometimes gamble. The amusements begin when you go down that hallway.” He pointed to their right, to a corridor papered in muted red-and-gold stripes.
Amanda craned her neck but could see nothing but a row of doors before the hallway ended at a T-junction.
“I’ll show you whichever room you’d like.” Julius’s breath was hot against her neck. He traced the rim of her ear with his finger, and a shiver skittered down her spine. “Just as soon as I speak to someone.”
Amanda inhaled slowly through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. If she focused on such minute matters the swirl of people about her wasn‘t nearly so intimidating. Or so she told herself. “The tall, spindly man you told me about in the carriage? The one who threatened the clerk’s family at this club?” Julius had relayed his conversation with Mr. Dawnley, although she suspected he’d kept some key bits of information back. But for a man trained in secrecy, the fact that he told her anything warmed her heart.
“No, it would be too convenient to find that man here tonight.” Julius scanned the room, the flecks of green in his eyes catching the light and making them seem more hazel than brown. He might not think the man was here, but Julius looked like a hunter searching for prey just the same. “It’s the proprietress I’ve come to speak with.”
Ah, yes, the beautiful woman with flaming-red hair. Amanda remembered that description, too. She tugged her gloves off, tucking them into her cloak’s pocket, and enjoyed the air swirling around her palms.
Julius had a few low words with a man in a service uniform. He nodded, and the man disappeared into a small door in the side of the room. A woman in a diaphanous gown strolled past, carrying her tray of drinks. Julius plucked off two and pressed one into Amanda’s hand. “Madame Sable has yet to come down from her rooms. We will wait.”
Amanda shifted, placing Julius’s body between her and the fireplace. She flapped the hem of her cloak open. “How long must we wait?”
“As long as it takes.” Julius stared at the door the servant had gone through, the one that presumably led to Madame Sable’s quarters. He had the uncanny ability to hold himself absolutely motionless. He would stand, rooted in place, for as long as it took. It was a stillness she recognized.
But not one she wished to emulate tonight. “Can we find a cooler place in which to wait? Between the corset, cloak, and my hair hanging free, I am hotter than one of Hades’ handmaidens.”
His lips twitched. “There is a remedy for that.” He flicked one side of her cloak back. A cool draught of air swirled across her bare shoulder, and she almost moaned in relief. But the feeling of being open, exposed, caused her skin to itch, and she shrugged the cloak back into place.
She kept her gaze on his chest, not wanting to see the disa
ppointment in his eyes. “The gown you gave me to wear under the corset has no sleeves.” Better to let him think she objected on decency grounds.
He stepped close, his chest brushing against hers. “You’ve left the security of your home. Taken a risk to come here,” he murmured. “I am very proud of you.”
She drew a triangle in the carpet with the toe of her slipper. Of course, he would see through her deceit. “You must be ashamed of my weakness but are too kind to admit it.”
He encircled her waist with his hands and squeezed even tighter than the corset. “You are stronger than you think.” He sighed. “And you are also burning up. Perhaps we can find a less heated room to wait in.”
Taking her hand, he led her down the red-and-gold hallway, silently opening doors and peering inside rooms, before finding the one he wanted. He pressed his finger to her lips in warning and drew her into a room lit only by a few candles surrounding a low bench. Something shifted, stretched out on the bench, and the figure of a woman lying on her stomach emerged into view.
A naked woman.
Now that was something she could write about to Liz. Julius closed the door and leaned against the wall, drawing her back to rest against his front. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Amanda made out a few other figures standing around the edges of the room, watching the bench. But much less people than in the main room. Amanda’s shoulders began to unclench.
A shadow separated from the darkness and circled the naked woman. The man wore trousers, but no shirt. Squatting by the bench, he lifted a candle from the ground. The light flickered across a broad expanse of bare chest. He moved his hand from the top of the woman’s head, along the curve of her back and bottom, and down her long legs, the candle sending flickers of light to illuminate each bronzed inch of her flesh.
Amanda held her breath. She didn’t see any rope to bind the woman. No implements to use upon her. As far as peculiar desires went, this seemed rather tame. But the room itself seemed to hold its breath with Amanda, waiting.
It happened quickly. A tip of the candle, a splash of wax. The woman stiffened and gasped. The man repeated his action, this time drawing a long line of candle wax across the woman’s back. She writhed under the onslaught, and the man placed a meaty palm on her lower back to keep her still.