And there, in the center of it all staring up at her through a diamond-encrusted mask, was the man Dory had come to see. Jeremy Dunn. Her raven.
Well, he wasn’t really hers. They had shared some intimate conversation and danced more times than would be proper anywhere – even here. But she couldn’t lay claim to him. Because for as much as she knew about him, there was far more that she didn’t know.
What she did know? Well, what she did know, she liked. Even though she shouldn’t.
Still, she couldn’t call him hers. Though she wished so very much that she could.
Especially since he still made her tingle with a single glance.
Inclining her head slightly, Dory beckoned to him, hoping that he could see her subtle hand movements through the crowd. Hoped that he understood it was him she was calling out to and not someone else, like that wretched bear from the previous week.
Then he smiled at her, his teeth gleaming white in the shadowy darkness and she knew. Her raven had seen and understood.
He had seen her. He was the only one who ever had.
His eyes held hers as he moved through the crowd toward her, making it clear to everyone that she was his intended destination. Dory, in turn, only had eyes for Jeremy. Oh, how she longed to call him by his real name, but she didn’t dare. Though it was understood everyone knew the raven’s identity, it still wasn’t spoken about aloud. That wasn’t the done thing. Not even here, where there was no such thing as propriety.
“Lady Peacock. My darling. How wonderful it is to see you.” Behind the mask, Jeremy’s eyes twinkled as he raised Dory’s hand to his lips for a slow, seductive kiss. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
Dory graced him with what she hoped was a seductive smile. “Slipping away is not always easy, Lord Raven. This should not be a surprise to you. I have spoken of my risk in this area before.” Then, she remembered what he had just said. “Though you were looking for me? Truly?”
“Why would you think I would not, sweet?” He seemed genuinely confused at her question, which only made Dory more confused as well. “After all this time, do you really think there is another I would wish to see?”
“Well, no. Not really. However, you are you and I am…me,” she finished a bit lamely. This was the infamous, handsome, wealthy, fabulous Jeremy Dunn. What on earth could he possibly want with someone as uninteresting as her? That was why she had never pursued him, even from behind the safety of this mask, and why she had never dared to hope for more than these stolen dances, no matter how much he teased her.
As the peacock? She was at least minimally interesting. But as Dory Tillsbury? She was about as interesting as dirt.
“Did it never occur to you, sweet, that I might like you?” he asked as he took her hand and began leading her down the steps toward the overcrowded dance floor. “That I might be enchanted by you? That you are the reason I return to the ballroom every week and no one else? That it is you I desire?”
Jeremy was quiet, as if waiting for her reply as he pulled her into his arms and began to dance, a slow waltz where they held each other far closer than would be appropriate anywhere else. In turn, Dory said nothing for a long moment, attempting to puzzle out his meaning.
Until now, everything between them had been relaxed and easy. They teased and flirted, and yes, talked about things that were utterly inappropriate between an unmarried man and woman. This, though? This was different somehow, though Dory could not quite say why that was. Perhaps because he was serious, and her raven was never serious.
Though she had taken him seriously last week when he said that he wished for her to lower the neckline – such as it was – on her corset. Then she had taken him seriously. Why, though? He had been teasing. Hadn’t he? She thought he had been but now, she wasn’t as certain. After all, he wasn’t teasing now.
“No,” Dory finally responded, when the silence between them had stretched on for far too long. “I don’t suppose it ever did.”
“Why not?” His green eyes glittered behind his mask and Dory felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine. “Is it that implausible to you that I might find you desirable and wish to spend time with you when I can? Or is it that you see this flirtation as a mere game and me as nothing more than a prize to be won? Is your shy teasing merely an act to snare my attentions? If so, Lady Peacock, then I can assure you that you have succeeded. Though I’m no longer certain that is a good thing.”
“No!” Dory rushed to assure him, her voice perhaps a bit too loud, for several heads swiveled in their direction. “Never that. I want to be here with you! This is no game to me. It never was.” She bit her lip and continued in a softer voice. “The truth?”
“Always, sweet.” Jeremy angled Dory closer to his body so that now, she was all but pressed against him, their joined hands caught in between their bodies. “Should you choose to give it, of course. Remember, in Dionysus, a lie is not as easily discernable from the truth as it is elsewhere.”
That much was true. Dory could lie to Jeremy and he would let her go without a fuss. She knew that. Until this moment, what they shared had been a flirtation born of mutual attraction. But this? This was different. This was more. He wanted it to be more. Or at least he seemed to want that. Did she? Dory thought she did. But before that could happen? She had to be honest.
When she looked into his eyes again, her resolve firmed. She would not lie to him. Not about this.
“Without this mask, Raven? I doubt you would like me very much. Out there? In the world beyond those doors? I am, for the most part, insignificant. I would hardly be worthy of a man like you.” Dory did her best to keep the note of pity out of her voice. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted…well, she didn’t know what she wanted from this man, but not his pity. She was certain enough of that.
“Worthy?” Jeremy spun Dory outward in the dance before pulling her back in tightly against him. So close she could feel his heat now. “Is it not I who should be worried about being worthy of you when this masquerade ends?”
She shook her head again, stalling a bit for time so that she could find just the right words. “No. Without your mask? You would still be handsome and sophisticated. Witty and charming. Without mine? I am dull and uninteresting. Plain and all but invisible, at least according to most.”
That was the closest Dory had ever come to revealing her true identity to Jeremy. There were times when she suspected he knew who she really was and then other times when she wasn’t as certain. With her comment just now? If he didn’t know her identity, he could probably deduce it rather easily.
Jeremy was silent again and she worried that did not bode well for her. “Is that why you never tried to tempt me into your bed, sweet? Because you thought yourself less than me?”
“Something like that.” Dory felt her cheeks flame just as they had the first night she had walked through those doors. “I am…I am not what you think, Raven. I am likely not even who you think I am.”
Instead of replying, Jeremy simply pulled her closer. “Then that makes us even, Peacock, because I am not what you think either.”
Dory wanted to ask Jeremy who he was just then, because as far as she could tell, everyone in London Society knew all there was to know about him. There were rumors of illicit children and unsavory business connections, but as someone with a reformed rake for a brother, Dory understood that while most rumors had a small kernel of truth, much of what was said about men like Jeremy was really lies.
However, rather than speak again, Dory sighed, leaned into her raven, and closed her eyes, allowing the magic of simply being here with him wash over her. Each time she stepped through those doors and met him? It was as if she was wrapped in a cocoon of spun silk where nothing could harm her and everything was perfect. Because she was with him.
It was all an illusion, of course, and she wasn’t so stupid as to really believe otherwise. But for these few stolen hours each week? What harm could the illusion do? Here in Jer
emy’s arms, she was happy. She was more than plain, uninteresting Dory Tillsbury. Here she was the focus of Raven’s attention. Here? She was seen.
Once dance led into another and this time, Dory simply allowed herself to drift along, her mind becoming muzzy, though she hadn’t had a drop to drink of the alcohol that flowed freely within the club. Rather, she allowed herself to become intoxicated by this man’s scent and the seductive heat of his body. The way he held her so close, his chin resting on the top of her head. The feel of his strong, sure hands on the curve of her back.
This was scandalous, being so close to him. As close as lovers would be. So close that she could feel the beating of his heart now and feel the scratch of his wool coat against her cheek.
Dory didn’t care. All she wanted was this – for as long as she could have it. Because she had been right in her worries earlier. The masquerades were ending and this fantasy world? It would vanish before her eyes. Therefore, she would savor these moments while she could.
Finally, the music ended and Dory was forced to look up, blinking her eyes a few times to clear away the haze of lust. Her raven’s eyes were just as soft and hazy as hers, as if he, too, had been lost in this moment as deeply as she had.
“The musicians must take a break for a bit, Peacock.” His words were plain, but his voice was soft and husky, wrapping around Dory’s heart and squeezing tight.
Was she mad to think herself in love – or at least in lust – with this man? A man she didn’t know? Probably. But just then, she didn’t care.
“Where would you like to go?” she asked, dimly aware of the people slowly exiting the dance floor and disappearing into the shadowy recesses of the club.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice still soft. Perhaps a little bit coaxing, as well. “I won’t harm you, Lady Peacock. I promise. Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.” She shouldn’t. Lord above knew, everything Dory had done inside this gaming hell – including venturing here in the first place – went against every rule that had been drilled into her head since childhood. Especially the one about not being alone with known rakes.
“You shouldn’t, you know. Your family would likely not approve.” It was as if he could read her mind.
“They barely remember I am alive most days,” she countered quietly. “Nor do they know you as I do.”
Of course, she didn’t know this man. Not really. Well, her brain didn’t. Her heart argued that it knew him, and, at the moment, that was good enough for her.
Jeremey seemed to consider that for a moment. “Very well. Let us go somewhere private.” Her eyes must have widened a bit then because he chuckled. “To talk, my sweet peacock. Simply…to talk.”
He wanted to say more or ask her for something more. Dory could tell. But he was holding back. Until they were alone? Well, whatever he would ask, Dory wished to hear what he would say.
Nodding, she placed her hand in his. “By all means then, Lord Raven. Lead the way.” Her voice trembled and she hoped he didn’t notice that small trace of fear, though his smile indicated that he did.
With his hand at the small of her back, Jeremy guided Dory through the club with authority. Then again, this was the raven. He was the king here. The owner. And he was escorting her through the club and toward a darkened hallway. Lord, she hoped no one figured out who she was. She wanted a fantasy. Not to ruin herself.
Once in the hallway, Jeremy took her hand and began leading her through a maze of other halls, through doors and up the stairs until she was so turned around, she was certain she would never find her way out. The only sources of light were dimly flickering wall sconces, similar to the ones in the alley behind the club. The faint light they cast didn’t allow her to see much detail, but what she could see hinted at the same opulence, taste, and wealth that was on display in the gaming hell floors below.
Finally, they stopped in front of a door that was painted black and decorated with gold gilt in the shape of a raven. These were his private rooms. Jeremy didn’t need to tell Dory. She simply knew.
“Last chance, sweet. I shall lead you back to the lower floors, but if you walk through that door? Then there is no going back.”
Dory knew that Jeremy would keep his word on this matter. If she told him no, he would let her go and allow her to flee back to the relative safety of the club. Except what would she flee toward, not just tonight but for the rest of her life? A marriage to Harry that she did not want? An ailing mother who might or might not regain her mind after drinking poisoned tea? Two sisters who were caught up in the details of their newly married lives? A brother and sister-in-law who were about to become parents?
In some ways, Jeremy was all Dory had of her own. Oh, she had friends, to be sure, but they were all wrapped up in their own lives and their own romances. When she spoke with them, even during cozy afternoon teas, they tended to ramble on about their own lives and their own romantic liaisons. They never asked about hers, probably because it was assumed she didn’t have any.
Jeremy was all she had and she wouldn’t even have him much longer. So really, in the end, there was no decision to be made. In truth, the decision had been made the first time she stepped through that ornate door and into this fantasy world.
“Allow me inside, Raven. I am ready.”
Dory said the words with more conviction than she felt because, at heart, she was still so very innocent and inexperienced. But she also wanted this. She was four and twenty. In a perfect world, she would have been wed and with child by now. But she wasn’t either of those things and her chances were slipping away. Harry didn’t count. She was an obligation to him. Not a choice.
She wanted a choice and this man? Her raven? He was her choice, foolish of a one as that might be.
Silently, Jeremy opened the door and gestured for Dory to precede him inside. When she entered the room, she felt as if she was stepping into Jeremy’s mind itself.
Everything in the room was dark wood and brocade. Candles flickered in large, heavy-looking stained glass jars done in teal, amber, and emerald, similar to the ones that had become all the rage as of late after Dory’s friend Miri, now the Countess of Blackthorne, and her new husband, Will, had sold a similar one a few weeks ago in an impromptu art auction.
An enormous four-poster bed dominated the left side of the room while an oak wardrobe took up most of the right-side wall. However, it was the triple row of windows that spanned almost the entire length of the wall in front of her that captured Dory’s attention. From here, the wealthiest sections of London were spread out before her, their streets shimmering in the distance as the lamplighters went about their nightly routine and large carriages appeared to be no more than tiny specks of movement in the distance.
“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Jeremy closed the door softly behind them. “It is, as you might imagine, a custom piece of work.” He gestured to the floor jars. “As are those. A young artist that was coming into his own last year. He created them for me.”
“I’ve seen similar,” Dory replied. “My friend Miri…” Then she stopped. He hadn’t said anything about wanting to know her name or anything more about her, and there she went, nearly telling him anyway.
Instead of becoming angry, however, Jeremy smiled, his grin more interested than wicked just then. “Lady Blackthorne?” Dory nodded, afraid to say anything else. “Her late mother-in-law had similar ones made, yes?”
“She did.” Dory swallowed hard and grasped for something to say in her growing nervousness. “Do you appreciate art?” That seemed a safer topic.
Jeremy nodded and urged her to take a closer look at the jar on the floor. “To a degree. I suppose it would be fairer to say that I appreciate beauty, whatever shape and form it takes.” He gestured to the room as a whole. “And I have the means to support that appreciation.”
“This room is lovely. Beyond lovely, actually.” She paused for a moment, deciding what to say next. The truth? Or a lie. The truth, she supposed. “Your
suite looks much as I expected. It, well, it looks like you.”
At her words, Jeremy’s smile widened and, reaching for her, he took her into his arms. “I am both surprised and grateful that you said that. It tells me that you see me. As I am and with no illusions.”
“As much as I can see you for who you truly are, I suppose.” Dory had no idea where this conversation was leading. “I don’t know much about you, Lord Raven. But from what I do know?” She gestured toward the wall of windows. “This room seems as if it would suit you.”
Turning her so that her back was to his front, he slowly walked them over to the window, the shimmering town of London spread out before them. Dory did her best not to sink back into his embrace, but in the end, she allowed him to wrap his arms more tightly around her. It felt so good to be here with him like this. With a simple touch, he was giving her more pleasure than she had ever known.
“These are my private chambers, Peacock.” He inhaled deeply and Dory had to resist the urge to shiver. They had been close before but never like this. “This is the place I retreat to when I either cannot go home for the evening or simply need a respite from Dionysus.” There was another lengthy pause. “No one, save for my business partner and the maid, has even been within this room before.”
Meaning that he had never brought another woman here, not even to bed her. If he had coupled with another woman at the club – and he likely had – then he had not done so here. That knowledge warmed Dory, though again, she knew it was foolish.
“Thank you, Raven.” Dory’s words were spoken quietly to match his tone. Standing here in his arms, something was happening. She did not know what but she didn’t want to shatter this spell that was weaving its way around them either. “It is truly an honor to be here. This means so very much to me.”
To her surprise, he nuzzled her neck, eliciting a sigh that she could not stop. He had never been so bold as to touch her in that way before. She had fantasized about him doing so, but she had never imagined he actually would.
His Temporary Mistress Page 6