Chapter Twelve
The moment the door closed behind them, Anthony simply stared at his wife.
He had spent most of the walk upstairs trying, and failing, to control his temper. Unfortunately, the privacy of the room did little to improve matters.
The sheer recklessness of what she had done left him somewhere between fury and disbelief.
Evangeline stood near the centre of the room, her plain gown and modest bonnet doing little to disguise who she was. A few loose strands of golden hair had escaped their pins, and her cheeks were flushed from the evening's events.
She looked nervous.
Good. Perhaps she finally understood the magnitude of her mistake.
"What," he asked carefully, "were you thinking?"
Evangeline opened her mouth and then closed it again. Anthony folded his arms across his chest.
"No,” he muttered. “Do not tell me you merely wished to take an evening drive through some of the worst streets in London."
Colour rose immediately in her cheeks. "I did not."
"Then explain it."
His voice remained calm; years of practice allowed him that much. But the fact that calmness was currently concealing a considerable amount of anger was another matter entirely.
"Evangeline."
She looked down briefly before lifting her chin. "I was worried."
Anthony stared at her. "Worried," he repeated.
"Yes."
"And you thought the appropriate response to your concern was disguising yourself as a tradesman's wife and following me across London?"
The words sounded absurd even as he spoke them, and Evangeline winced.
Anthony began pacing around the small room. "Do you have any idea what might have happened tonight?" She remained silent. "You could have been recognised, you could have been followed." Silence. "You entered a brothel!"
Her eyes widened slightly. "It seemed less obvious from the outside."
Anthony laughed once, but it was a short, humourless sound. "That is your defence?" he asked, stopping to look at her again. "And it better be an exceptionally good one."
Evangeline looked down at her gloved hands.
"I did not know what else to think," she mumbled.
Anthony frowned. "What does that mean?"
"We married for a reason. You were very clear about what you needed from this marriage."
Anthony remained silent.
"And two weeks have passed," she said, looking up. "I did not understand."
The quiet embarrassment in her voice unsettled him far more than her earlier defiance.
"You spend time with me. You include me in discussions about the estate. You are kind."
The last word, kind, surprised him. No one had called him kind in years.
"Then suddenly you begin coming home later every evening," she continued. "I thought perhaps you regretted marrying me." Colour rose higher in her cheeks. "And then… Rosalind suggested another possibility."
Anthony closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, Evangeline was studying the floor.
"I thought perhaps you had decided to fulfil your obligations elsewhere," she explained. "Or that there was someone else…"
Her voice trailed off, and silence followed.
As Anthony looked at her, his anger began to fade. Her recklessness remained astonishing and deeply frightening. And yet, beneath the absurdity lay something else.
She had been hurt. And he was forced to admit that he had been the reason why.
Anthony exhaled slowly. "Evangeline." She looked up. "This establishment is one of several properties owned by the estate."
Confusion crossed her face. "What?"
"The proprietor rents the building from me."
She blinked in shock.
"He is currently three months behind in his payments."
For several seconds she simply stared, and then understanding dawned.
"Oh."
Anthony nodded. "I came to collect what I am owed."
"Oh," she said. "I see."
Anthony sighed. "And to address your concerns, I have not sought another woman, nor do I have a mistress."
Her gaze lifted instantly.
"I have not been with another woman since our wedding."
Evangeline held his gaze for a moment before lowering her eyes.
"I am sorry," she apologized. "It was reckless to follow you here."
"Yes," Anthony agreed. "And on that note, I think it's time we go. This is not the kind of place for a Duchess, and the later the hour, the less so it becomes."
Anthony moved toward the door, then paused.
His expression hardened once more, and he looked back at her.
"If you ever do something this reckless again, I shall not be responsible for my actions."
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
Anthony opened the door. "Come."
This time, she obeyed without argument.
As they walked down the hallway towards the staircase, the air was thick with the scent of cheap perfume, spilled wine, and something else—something musky and primal.
Anthony did not frequent such places, but he was no stranger to how such establishments sank into more depravity the later the hour.
Evangeline followed after him as he led her down the narrow stairs into the main room, each step taking them deeper into a world of shadows and sin.
The main room was a tapestry of human desire.
In one corner, a woman with painted lips laughed as a man's hand disappeared beneath her skirts.
Near the fireplace, another couple whispered secrets over glasses of amber liquid.
The air hummed with whispered conversations and the soft sounds of pleasure.
As they crossed the room, Evangeline's steps faltered. Her eyes widened, fixed on a shadowed alcove where a couple was intimately engaged.
The woman, her back pressed against the velvet-covered wall, had her head thrown back in ecstasy as the man moved between her thighs. Their movements were rhythmic and unashamed, a raw display of passion making Anthony's own body respond despite his anger.
Evangeline stopped completely, transfixed. Her lips parted slightly, her breathing growing shallow as she watched the scene unfold.
Anthony noticed the change immediately, how her pupils dilated, how a delicate pink crept up her neck, how her fingers curled into her palms.
Something stirred within him. The sight of his innocent wife, standing in the middle of a brothel, watching strangers fuck with wide-eyed fascination, affected him powerfully.
His cock hardened against his trousers, a physical response that surprised him with its intensity.
"Come," he said, doing his best to ignore his arousal. "We should go."
He reached for her, but she took a step back. "Might we stay a moment longer?"
He opened his mouth to refuse. Of course they could not stay. This was not some night at the theatre.
"Evangeline," he warned.
"Please," she murmured. "Just a moment."
He opened his mouth to refuse again, but something stopped him. He could not understand what it was. Perhaps it was his own arousal, or the roughness in Evangeline's voice when she asked to stay.
Stepping behind her, Anthony positioned them so they were partially concealed by a heavy velvet curtain. The darkness wrapped around them like a cloak.
He leaned close, dipping his mouth close to her ear.
"Do you want to continue watching?" he murmured.
Evangeline jumped at his proximity, but she didn't turn away.
"I—"
The words caught her in her throat as she looked into his eyes, and he saw something in them that he had not seen before, something curious, hungry.
He realised that beneath her proper exterior, beneath the composure she maintained in society, Evangeline possessed a curious and passionate nature.
The discovery was both provocative and unsettling.
Something shifted in Anthony. His anger began to transform into a different kind of heat. And although he tried so hard to remain in control in all aspects of his life, right then, in the shadows of the brothel, all his control began to fall away.
Keeping his body flush against hers, Anthony slowly lifted her skirts. His fingers brushed against her stockings, tracing the line where silk gave way to bare skin.
Evangeline tensed but didn't pull away, her attention remaining fixed on the couple in the alcove.
His fingers found the wet heat between her thighs. He circled her clit slowly, teasing her as they both watched the other couple's movements intensify.
The woman in the alcove cried out, her fingers digging into her partner's shoulders as her climax washed over her. The sound seemed to trigger something in Evangeline. She leaned back against Anthony, her head tilting to expose the pale column of her throat.
Anthony took the invitation, pressing his lips against her neck as he increased the pressure of his fingers. He slid one inside her tight heat, then another, curling them to find that spot that made her gasp. Her hips began to move instinctively, matching the rhythm he created.
"Look at them," he murmured against her skin.
Evangeline's breathing grew ragged. Her hands gripped the velvet curtain, knuckles white as she fought to remain silent. Anthony could feel her inner muscles clenching around his fingers, could feel the tremors building deep within her.
The couple in the alcove had changed positions now; the woman was bent over, her hands braced against the wall as the man entered her from behind.
Anthony matched their pace with his fingers, driving into Evangeline with the same rhythm. His thumb pressed against her clit, circling faster as her body tensed. He could feel her approaching the edge, could hear the soft whimpers she tried to suppress.
"Let go," he whispered, his teeth grazing her earlobe.
The combination of his words, his touch, and the explicit scene before them was too much. Evangeline's body convulsed, a silent orgasm tearing through her as she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her cunt clenched around his fingers.
Anthony held her steady, his arm wrapped around her waist as she trembled through her release.
He continued to stroke her gently, drawing out every last sensation until she sagged against him, spent and breathless.
As her breathing slowly returned to normal, Anthony carefully withdrew his fingers.
He helped her straighten her skirts, his movements efficient despite the lingering arousal still thrumming through his veins.
With a final glance around the room to ensure they hadn't been noticed, he guided her toward the door.
The cool night air was a shock after the heat of the brothel. Anthony pulled Evangeline into the shadows of the alleyway, his mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.
He had awakened something in his wife—something wild and hungry and utterly unexpected.
And in doing so, he had awakened a matching hunger in himself.
"Come," he said.
He took her hand and led her to the carriage.
They climbed inside, and the door closed.