Mariah chuckled softly. ‘I am not sure I ever thanked you properly for your gallantry last night.’
He turned to face her. ‘No, I do not believe you did,’ he drawled drily.
‘Well, I do thank you.’ Mariah was unnerved to once again find herself the focus of those piercing green eyes. ‘These people really are an unpleasant lot, aren’t they?’ Her gaze now swept contemptuously over the other guests.
The men were drinking brandy instead of tea, with most of them already well on their way to being inebriated yet again. Including their host, as he occasionally cast a furtively nervous glance in Wolfingham’s direction.
The women were once again wearing an assortment of gowns that would be more suited to a bordello or brothel. Not that Mariah had ever been in either establishment, but she could well imagine the state of déshabillé of the women who did.
Normally Mariah would have had no difficulty in maintaining a certain distance, from both the gentlemen’s drinking and the ladies’ state of undress, when attending one of these weekend parties. She had no doubt it was the challenge her coolness represented to the gentlemen that caused the ton’s hostesses to continue to include her in these weekend invitations. The gentlemen made no secret that they began each of these weekends with a wager on which one of them might succeed in bedding the Countess of Carlisle.
Yes, normally Mariah would not have the slightest difficulty maintaining that distance.
Wolfingham’s presence, and Mariah’s complete awareness of the lean and muscled length of his body as he lounged on the chaise beside her, had heightened her senses to such a degree, she now seemed to feel and view everything as if through a magnifying glass.
The way in which even the statuary and decor in this house seemed to be attuned to the debauchery that went on under its roof.
The gentlemen’s red and bloated faces, and their avidly glittering eyes as they ogled the ladies’ state of undress.
Those same ladies vying with each other, with more and more outrageous behaviour, in order to attract and hold the attention of the gentleman, or gentlemen, they had decided to bed.
The way in which Wolfingham’s austere handsomeness, in the formal black of his clothing and snowy white linen, succeeded in putting him above any and all of the other gentlemen present.
Knowing that, aware of that, this weekend, and Mariah’s forced association with Wolfingham, could not come to an end soon enough for her.
‘Very,’ Wolfingham now drawled disdainfully. ‘I feel soiled just by being in the same room with them.’
Mariah arched a mocking brow. ‘And yet you and the other Dangerous Dukes are rumoured to frequent brothels and the houses of the demi-monde.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I draw the line at brothels. And the ladies of the demi-monde do not pretend to be upstanding members of society.’
Mariah’s curiosity was piqued by the fact that he had not denied frequenting those houses. ‘Do you—’
‘And what are you two whispering about together so secretly?’
Without either of them having been aware of it—Darian was sure that Mariah’s attention had been as focused on him as his was on her—their hostess had crossed the room to join them and now stood looking down at them with coquettish curiosity. A lapse in concentration on their part, which Darian knew could have been very costly indeed, if they had chanced to be talking of their real reason for being here this weekend.
He stood up politely and instantly regretted doing so as his superior height gave him a clear view down the front of Clara Nichols’s loose gown, as far as her navel—decidedly not an arousing sight. ‘We were discussing the…merits of the temple in your garden, madam.’
Lady Nichols’s rouged lips gave a knowing smile. ‘So that’s where the two of you have been all day.’
‘This morning, at least.’ Darian gave an acknowledging nod. ‘Your butler was most helpful, this morning, in telling us of its existence.’
‘Benson has turned out to be a treasure.’ His hostess smiled fondly at the butler as he circulated amongst the guests, calmly refilling the gentlemen’s brandy glasses with the same aplomb as he did the ladies’ teacups, before withdrawing from the room with that same calm after one of the footmen had entered and drawn him aside to speak to him quietly. ‘One is never quite sure, when one takes on new household staff, whether or not they are going to suit, but Benson did come personally recommended and he has more than lived up to it these past few months.’ Lady Nichols turned to eye them speculatively. ‘I trust you both enjoyed our little temple?’
‘Most diverting,’ Darian answered noncommittally, a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece revealing that it was just a few minutes after five o’clock, time for the Prince Regent’s note to be delivered, for which he and Mariah had been patiently waiting these past twenty-four hours. And, hopefully, the reason Benson had been summoned from the room?
Well, the waiting had perhaps not been quite so patient, on Darian’s part! Indeed, it had been unimaginable torture, having to suffer the company of such people and made all the worse by his increasing desire for Mariah. His only wish now was to have this charade over as soon as was possible, so that they might return to town and he could concentrate his considerable attention on seducing Mariah.
‘You will have the opportunity to return there later on tonight, of course,’ Lady Nichols continued to chatter. ‘It is so romantic in the evenings.’
Darian almost choked on the sip of brandy he had been about to take, at the very idea of the erotica displayed in that temple ever being thought of as romantic. Certainly it appeared that Lady Nichols’s idea of romance, and his own, differed greatly!
How long did it take Benson
to collect the Prince’s note of apology from the rider and return with it?
‘We are both so looking forward to the masked ball this evening, Clara.’ Mariah claimed their hostess’s attention as Darian made no reply.