Page 30 of The Rake
Margot was introduced with the false name of Lady Browne to Madam Sandrine. All of them knew it was a fake name but it did not seem to surprise the madame, the brothel owner was far more interested in Langley. With an internal sigh, Margot realised this was probably true of all women. It was so hard not to be drawn into the all-consuming good looks of the earl, his devastating smile, and his dark eyes crinkling with the illusion of pleasure, that Margot knew it was hard to tell when Langley was being sincere… or not. Every time she thought she saw the truth of the man, there came along a new note of darkness, or he removed himself a little further away from her, obscuring himself further from her detection. Perhaps it was for the best in the long run, if she were to ever forget this interlude in London.
“Charmed, my lord,” Madam Sandrine said. She was presumably attempting to ape the French language, but even Margot, who was hardly an expert on pronunciation, could tell immediately this woman had never been to Paris, or any of the other French cities or towns for that matter. Her accent held notes of a distinctive Yorkshire lass, a little like her parents’ housekeeper, Mrs. Faircliffe. Although that was where the similarities ended. Madam Sandrine said with real alacrity, “What brings you here tonight? Your reputation of course precedes you, dear Langley, but never once have you… attended one of my evenings.”
“I am a firm believer in trying everything at least once. As you can imagine, that has taken up a great deal of my time… but tonight I found myself drawn to your establishment,” Langley said with an easy bow to Madam Sandrine, with a wave of his hand he included Margot in their conversation. “Besides, my companion is something of a voyeur and I thought this might be…” When his words trailed off, Margot looked sharply at him. He had promised to protect her, at least in terms of anyone coming too near her. Surely, he did not mean to leave her on her own to experience the activities whilst he looked for the clock and its key. The idea shot a jolt of awareness through her body—Langley would never know how much the night of his orgy had stayed with her, played out in careful detail until her limbs felt weak, and her breath was unsteady.
“We are in fact quite particular on the rooms we wish to see.” Langley was continuing to talk, and Margot forced herself to concentrate. It was proving more difficult than she’d initially imagined, because somewhere deep within the walls of this house, she could hear the rising noises of woman in the throes of passion. Her prior innocence could not continue given who her comrade was, so Margot had taken the time to educate herself on the books in Ashmore’s library. But those desperate cries were not helping her concentration. It seemed the reality was very different from what she’d read about.
“I thought it best if we were to walk through the establishment, observing until we see the one we like, then…” Langley let his voice trail off, leaving everything to implication, and Margot understood what he was doing—the more they saw of the house, the more likely it was they would find the clock and therefore the key. But how would she stand it, passing the cavorting couples and pretending to be unmoved? She could already feel the heat mottling her cheeks, and the presence ofLangley so close to her was not helping. Everything here seemed designed to overstimulate her, and they had not even set off yet.
“Indeed, my lord.” Madam Sandrine leant forward as she spoke and whispered something into Langley’s ear. He did not seem overly engaged, because he reached into his pocket and drew out several notes for this evening’s entertainment. Margot had an inkling, although perhaps it was her own heightened awareness, that Madam Sandrine had not asked about payment, but something far more seductive on the madam’s part, but when the woman sat back there was no ill will on her face, merely the polite expression of a businesswoman. “I think the only requirement left is that you remove your shoes.”
This request broke the tension for Margot. It seemed so entirely mundane that she could not help but laugh.
Neither Madam Sandrine nor Langley looked remotely surprised, and to Margot’s shock, Langley lowered himself onto the floor before her and lifted Margot’s dress up, whereupon he started to loosen the shoes from her feet.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, bending closer to him.
“The house’s boarding will creak, and so this way no one will know we are there.” He eased the first shoe off her, and as his hands placed her foot back on the floor, Margot felt all the heat of his touch soak through her stockings and race up her leg. Had he seen she was not wearing any undergarments? It was not until his hand brushed against her calf as he located her second foot that she realised she could remove her own shoe by herself.
Once they were divested of these items, Madam Sandrine beckoned one of her servants forward, who handed over a lantern and then silently gestured at them to follow the manservant. Unthinkingly, Margot reached for Langley’s hand, clasping it as they followed the servant through a side door and into the dark recesses of the house. The noise of the woman’scries from earlier had changed, and Margot realised it was probably a different woman.
The passageway was dark, and at first the only real light she could make out was the lantern held by the servant. Up they weaved through the house, the occasional noises alternating with each step they made.
When they stopped, Langley murmured something to the servant, and the man handed across the lantern with a gesture towards the right of where they stood, before vanishing from sight through a small gap in the boarding.
The stillness lingered and stretched between them as Margot, who was now used to the semi darkness and could see something of the layout, looked this way and that. Their previous argument about society’s perception of them made her feel nervous and as if the friendship they had built was a lie. Or, if not a lie precisely, then based on ground she did not fully understand.
Langley, seemingly oblivious, moved forward, bending and looking through the wooden panels into whatever was on the other side of the wall.
“What?” Margot asked. Her nerves were heightened too, but the sensation of the couplings that were taking place close by—both sensations made her feel overly aware of her body, her breath, and her wanton, wondering thoughts.
“Shh.” He turned as he said the word, it was barely above a whisper, before he cocked his finger and motioned for her to join him. He lowered the lantern to the floor.
In her stockinged feet, Margot was pulled forward by the motion, transfixing her. It had been easy to forget that promise of a kiss, at least that was what she had told herself as they searched for the keys, but in this narrow corridor with the sounds of pleasure surrounding them, the reality of what would occur was seducing Margot without Langley even trying.
Margot reached him and Langley drew her closer, indicating where she should look through the gap in the wall.
“Don’t talk or else they’re hear us.” His mouth was right next to her ear, and Margot blinked away the rush of awareness this closeness gave her. Adjusting her eyes to the sight before her, she almost broke away in surprise, but Langley was right behind her, his hands on her shoulders, caging her there so she was unable to look away.
She sniffed loudly through her nose, the least erotic thing she could think of, and stared ahead.
There was a couple on the bed. It was impossible to not immediately be drawn to them—they were lit by the low, sparkling pinpricks of dozens of candles. Margot found herself unable to blink as she saw the woman roll from her position atop the man to land back on the rumpled sheets. Her mask had come loose, and the woman was laughing. There was such abandoned happiness to the scene that it not only stirred Margot’s senses, but it told her how much joy the act clearly gave people—something in her naivety she had not really considered before.
It was worse, Margot told herself, than the night she had run into Langley’s, chiefly because he stood so close, and she feared now he would be able to gauge her reactions.
“Can you see the clock?” Langley’s question rubbed against her neck, and Margot forced herself to look away and around the rest of the room, searching for the timepiece.
She shook her head, her hand was grabbed, and Langley led her away, along the sparse passageways, pausing at another small gap designed to be looked through.
“They’re everywhere,” she murmured, her anticipation to see another couple growing, which manifested as a slight tremble to her voice and a delicious quivering in her belly. She pressed her legs together beneath her red skirts and hoped that the darkness hid her reaction. “Why don’t you look?” she whispered, despiteherself coming to stand next to Langley, who simply shook his head without explanation, as if this task could only be completed by Margot herself.
So, she rose on her tiptoes and glanced through the gap. This time it was a group, the man tied to the bed whilst one rode his mouth, and another companion was buried beneath the coverlet around where?—
“Can you see it?” Again, Langley was so close, as if he knew how much his presence and the warmth of his breath playing against the skin of her neck would affect her.
Shaking her head, Margot felt Langley reach for her hand once more with the intention of pulling her further along the passageways, on and on to see yet more couples, but when his firm grip enfolded her hand, the heat rushed up from his touch caused her to gasp aloud with frustration.
Even when she raised her hand to her lips to cover the wanton noise, she knew despite the darkness Langley had seen and heard her tell, and now he knew precisely how she was feeling, and it wouldn’t matter how much she denied it, he would know.
