Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-Three
“You look lovely.” His voice had a low rumble to it that made me shiver.
I ran my gaze up and down his body. He wore evening wear: a black evening coat, trousers, a pristine white shirt, and a bloodred vest embroidered with black thread.
His hair was slicked back, and he had several rings on his fingers, which was unusual for a gentleman but made him look especially wicked.
In a very good way. “I could say the same for you.”
“Certainly you could,” he said, taking my arm and looping it through his.
Lily had chosen my garb that evening, because of course she had, and so I was wearing one of her gowns, fashioned of dark-purple silk that made a delicious rustling sound when I moved.
Its neckline was—to me, at least—scandalously low, and it was trimmed with little purple velvet bows on the skirt.
I wore an amethyst necklace that wrapped tight around my throat, and I had purple beaded earrings to finish off the look.
I had borrowed Lily’s evening cloak as well, a black velvet affair edged in ribbon, but I’d undone it when I entered.
We’d planned to meet at Clarence House, since he didn’t want me to show up at the club on my own and risk being whisked away by some supernatural before he arrived. I appreciated his concern, though I didn’t think there was reason for his apprehension, what with me being a mere human and all.
“Shall we go? That is, if you still want—?” He spoke in an unusually gentle manner, for him, and once again I found myself comparing him to someone from this realm and finding everyone else lacking.
“I do want.”
We walked out, me with my heart fluttering in my chest. This was actually happening.
Finally happening, despite a few near misses (once again, apologies to Fred the greengrocer; he’d been persistent, but I’d been staunch in my refusal).
And no matter what happened in the future, I knew I would never regret it.
The club wasn’t too far from Clarence House, as it happened, and we arrived within about fifteen minutes. It was a tall, thin town house that looked like all the other tall, thin town houses on the street.
He escorted me up the steps and rapped the door knocker sharply. The knocker was, ironically, an angel whose tiny angelic wings behind was the connection between door and knocker.
A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing the largest ogre I’d ever seen. I had to admit I gawked but collected myself, remembering my training and my own determination not to treat anyone differently because of their appearance.
Except for Marcellus. He was fabulously gorgeous, and I was definitely going to treat him differently.
“Good evening, my lord,” the ogre said. So Marcellus had been here before? What did that mean?
“Good evening, Mr. Hatch,” Marcellus replied.
The ogre peered around us, frowning in confusion. “Your father is not with you, then?”
“No, I am actually here for myself this time.”
Oh. So it seemed he had been here before but only for his father.
That shouldn’t make me happy, yet of course it did—we had no promise to each other of exclusivity, but it was good to know that he hadn’t brought anybody else here or hadn’t come here with any intention other than to make sure the Devil got his due, so to speak.
“Please come in. I will inform Madame Estley.”
The ogre led us down a long hallway to a small waiting room, decorated in warm tones of soft browns and greens. It looked like any other sitting room, and I could have fooled myself I was merely paying a call on a respectable family—if it weren’t for the demon sitting beside me.
He reached his hand out and took mine. As always, he was warmer than I was, and that warmth made me feel less nervous. “I already know tonight will be the highlight of my trip,” he said in a low, silky tone.
“You shouldn’t say that before—” I said, making a vague gesture in the air.
He arched a brow. “Are you saying you doubt me?”
I snorted. “Hardly, my lord. I am saying that I do not have your experience, and you might not find me—”
He yanked me forward and pressed his lips to mine before I could utter another word, a hard, fierce kiss that took my breath away. His tongue demanded entry, and I acquiesced, feeling the heat of him—as well as the heat of my own passion—flow through my body.
Just as I was starting to melt, I heard the sounds of a door opening and a woman’s chuckle. “My lord,” the voice said as Marcellus and I sprang apart, “I apologize for obviously taking too long to arrive.”
Madame Estley was a succubus, which made sense, given her profession.
Her entire aura was sensual, from her luxurious raven-black hair to her wide, red mouth; olive skin; and plush figure.
She could have been any age from thirty to fifty, with a knowing, wicked look in her dark brown eyes.
I felt an almost tangible pull from her presence and wondered how Marcellus had been able to resist her.
Had he resisted her? Again, that wasn’t my business, but I rather thought he had, since I knew he’d be tactful enough not to bring his very human companion into contact with a past interlude.
“Finally you are finding some time to enjoy yourself, my lord,” Madame Estley said.
“I was wondering if you were truly your father’s son or some sort of changeling, since you were so modest.” Her tone was mocking, but the look she gave me was understanding, as though she knew precisely what was going through my head at that moment.
I immediately understood why her establishment was popular—I felt comfortable already, just because she’d uttered a few words.
“We would like to engage a room for the evening, madame,” Marcellus said. He still had hold of my hand.
“Absolutely,” she said. She donned a pair of spectacles that made her look like a salacious grandmother and consulted a ledger. “Room 251 is free. All evening, correct?”
“All evening,” Marcellus confirmed.
She nodded, then pressed a button on the side of the wall.
A satyr immediately materialized, wearing what appeared to be the house’s uniform, since the ogre had been wearing something similar—a jacket made of burgundy wool, black trousers, and a white shirt with no cravat.
“Cassius, take Lord Marcellus and his guest to room 251, and please make certain they are provided with everything they require.”
The satyr bowed, then gestured toward the door. “If you please, would you follow me?”
We rose, and I gave a quick curtsy to Madame Estley, who kept her eyes on me the whole time.
I wondered, what was she thinking? Was she wondering why a mere human was with the Devil’s son?
And here, of all places? Or was she speculating about what kind of individual would knowingly consort with a demon?
Questions I had myself, to be honest.
But here I was, and there was no way in Hell I was going to turn back now.
Cassius led us up the stairs and down the hall to room 251, which was large enough to fit the three rooms Hannah and I shared.
An enormous bed was at one end, while a fireplace, a sofa, and a table were at the other end.
A curio cabinet was in between, and the largest rug I’d ever gazed upon lay on the floor.
The colors were discreet, not at all what I would have expected from this kind of establishment, mostly blues and greens, like the colors of the sea.
Cassius led us on a tour through the room, pointing out the bed, the sofa, the attached water closet, and finally the curio closet, which he flung open, revealing a cache of things I presumed would be of use, though I had no idea how one would use some of them.
I expected Lily would know, so I decided not to expose myself as a complete innocent and ask what the purpose of the item that looked like a whisk would be.
I knew enough to figure out the purpose of the floggers and some of the vertical glass items and blushed accordingly.
“We will bring up refreshments shortly—an assortment of bread, cheese, and wine, unless there is anything else you would like?”
“You don’t have any shepherd’s pie on hand, do you?” Marcellus asked, his tone only slightly joking.
Cassius frowned in dismay. “No, my lord, we do not, but we could—”
“No, never mind, what you have will be fine. Thank you.” Marcellus pressed a few coins into the satyr’s hand.
Cassius bowed, then left the room.
My earlier nervousness immediately reappeared, and I walked around the room, running my hand over the flocked wallpaper, the table, and then finally the bed. Marcellus, on the other hand, stood where he was, just watching me.
“Does the room meet with your satisfaction, Miss Hastings?” he said at last.
I turned to look at him and wrinkled my nose. “Look, this may be an everyday occurrence for you, but I am not accustomed—”
He closed the distance between us in a few strides, took me in his arms, and stared down into my eyes. His amber gaze was intense and heated. “I am not accustomed, either, Cora. I am not like my father. I am not like anybody.”
“I know that quite well,” I replied in a wry tone. “You are by far the handsomest, most intelligent being I have met.”
His expression was smug. “I know that quite well also. Which means that when I choose to do something like this, it is a rare occasion. And the individual I choose to do it with is just as special.”
His words made my breath catch, and for a moment, I thought about confessing all of it: my love for him, how I wished we could be together even after the Devil’s visit was finished, and that I didn’t know if I could ever properly recover once he left.