Page 50 of The Last Chance
“You’ll not leave my side.” Mr Chance placed a possessive hand gently on her back, the merest touch sending tingles dancing down her spine. “Not even for a second.”
She didn’t argue. Why would she?
No one had ever cared about her to this degree.
Mr Daventry led the way, mounting the steps and tugging the bell.
Mrs Daventry smoothed her hands over her swollen stomach, hidden by a cascade of green silk. “She senses my excitement. Lucius would like a daughter. He says the world needs mischievous redheads to challenge the status quo. Do you see yourself marrying and having children, Joanna? Oh, you don’t mind me using your given name?”
“Not at all—to using my given name. I don’t know what the future holds for me. I’m merely trying to get through each day and keep myself out of Newgate.”
The lady offered a sympathetic smile. “It won’t come to that. Lucius will do everything in his power to ensure you walk free.”
The loss of Mr Chance’s hand on her back brought a coldrush to her skin, the only warmth in her life snatched away. She turned to find him wearing his black silk mask. If he looked sinful before, he looked downright wicked now.
Her pulse soared, a surge of heat flooding her cheeks. His eyes were darker, like hidden caves promising untold treasures. And his lips seemed softer somehow, an intimate focal point she found captivating.
Arousal slid through her body.
She wanted him. Would she want him more when presented with the erotic displays of Temptation Tuesday?
Mrs Flavell’s strapping butler took their invitations and outdoor apparel and welcomed them into the vast hall, its marble floors gleaming beneath glittering chandeliers. A group of men lingered at the bottom of the sweeping staircase. A woman dressed as a milkmaid hurried past, tugging the rope belt of a man in a monk’s gown.
All heads turned Joanna’s way.
She felt their eyes crawling over her like insects on her skin.
“Prepare to be shocked,” Mr Chance whispered when she took his arm. “Whatever you do, do not go anywhere alone.”
They passed the open door to the opulent dining room. Guests in animal masks occupied all twelve seats around the table. Their hands were tied behind their backs, leaving them to gobble food with their mouths from the body of a naked woman strapped to the walnut surface. They grunted like beasts. None of them were Venus.
Joanna clung to Mr Chance and inhaled to calm her nerves.
A strange smell lingered in the air—a sweet scent mixed with the earthy aroma of tobacco and incense. It irritated her nostrils and teased her senses.
“Hold your breath when we pass the next room,” he urged.
Take me home, she wanted to say, but mingling with the debauched brought out the protector in him. And he didn’t object when she hugged his firm bicep.
Joanna tried to breathe as smoke wafted from the salon on their right. People relaxed on red damask sofas, puffing on pipes, entranced by the white wisps coiling into the air. Some kissed like depraved citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah. Some swayed in time to the orchestra’s music, their rampant hands exploring each other’s bodies.
The string quartet in the drawing room played Beethoven to a crowd of eager revellers. Alas, the musicians failed to hold the throng’s interest. Men turned their heads, mischief glinting in their eyes, their mouths moist where their tongues skimmed the seams. Women lowered their masks to stare at Mr Chance.
It was like walking through the African savannah, past starving lions lounging openly in the grassland, waiting for one to roar and pounce.
Joanna squeezed Mr Chance’s arm. “Unless you want to be a dish on the supper menu, I suggest you refrain from going anywhere alone, too.”
“The sooner we leave here, the better.”
Excited whispers breezed through the air.
A woman with ebony curls and large breasts stepped forward to block their path, longing to be the first to secure dinner. “Good evening, sir. With such a confident strut, this can’t be your first party.” Her feline gaze journeyed over Mr Chance’s physique, but she didn’t remove her mask. “Perhaps we might find a quiet alcove and you can tell me how badly you want to come tonight.”
Mr Daventry had warned them to mingle lest they rouse suspicion.
So, it came as no surprise when Mr Chance gave a curious hum. “I’m otherwise engaged. Perhaps we might talk later.”
The brazen devil glanced at Joanna. “Is three a crowd?”
