Page 91 of One Wicked Secret
“This will be a lot easier if you hand Charmers over,” Mr Daventry added. “I’ve never been one to ruin a party, but Mrs Dalton is correct. We’re not leaving here without him.”
Mr Hawke sat back and pondered his position before suggesting terms. “Do you have a warrant from the magistrate? No? Then I will allow Mrs Dalton to accompany me upstairs. Catching Charmers mid-coitus may be to your advantage.”
“Over my dead body,” Daniel growled. “I’d rot in hell before I allowed her to leave here with you.”
Elsa raised a calming hand. “I will go with Mr Hawke.I’m confident he’s too proud to take a woman against her will.”
“This is a game of trust, Dalton.” Mr Hawke stood. He tugged the knife out of the wood. “I give you my word no harm will come to your wife. I’m a man of business, not a libidinous fool.”
“I’d rather trust the devil,” Daniel exclaimed.
“I’m asking you to trust your wife. Trust she won’t be tempted by my charm and handsome good looks. Trust she will tell you what occurs outside this room.”
“Or I could just shoot you,” Lord Rothley said.
“Be my guest,” Mr Hawke replied coolly. “There’s more than one judge upstairs enjoying the Bacchanal—men willing to overlook a little vice, but not murder, even from a marquess.” He handed Elsa her knife. “Mrs Dalton is welcome to slice my throat if I renege on our agreement.”
Elsa looked at Daniel and gave a reassuring nod before addressing Mr Hawke. “If I accompany you upstairs, do I have your word you will escort Mr Charmers back to the dining room?”
Lucifer’s lackey smiled. “I’ll drag Charmers here myself. By the ballocks if necessary.”
While Daventry convinced Daniel all would be well, Elsa left with Mr Hawke and climbed the dark oak staircase. Unlike the crumbling mansions her mother read about, there wasn’t a cobweb in sight; the banister was polished to perfection, the red runner like new.
“Courage is an attractive quality in a woman of noble birth,” Mr Hawke said when they reached the landing. “Hold on to that steely resolve as we navigate the corridors. This is Sodom and Gomorrah before judgement fell—a gilded abyss where indulgence reigns and restraint is a foreign language.”
She was curious to know what prompted a man to hold wicked parties, but the noises inside the rooms would leave a bawd blushing.
The walls pulsed with moans and the rhythmic creak of beds. The crack of a whip and a dog-like howl accompanied a chorus of groans, screams, and high-pitched wails.
“Are you not the least bit ashamed of what happens here?”
Mr Hawke’s mocking chuckle was answer enough. “It’s not my shame to bear. But I have my reasons for indulging the aristocracy. Revenge is sweeter when it’s patiently earned.”
Elsa was desperate to know what that meant, but Mr Hawke brought her to a halt outside a door bearing a plaque that read,A Shrine to Caligula.
“This is where I caution you to remain in the shadows. Observe if it feeds a curiosity, but not for too long. You may turn into a pillar of salt.”
He cast her a sly wink, fingers curling around the doorknob. With deliberate ease, he pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter.
It wasn’t the writhing bodies on the bed that had her clasping her hand to her mouth. It wasn’t the flickering firelight casting monstrous shadows on the ceiling or the vile smell of … things no lady should mention. It was the sight of the affable Mr Charmers tied to the bedposts with gold twine, red welts across his torso and an odd metal contraption strapped to his genitals.
“If this were a play, it might be calledRome Reborn Without the Togas,” Mr Hawke whispered. “Most of them have smoked opium. Lucky for you, Charmers will struggle to hold his tongue.” He extended his hand. “Theblade, madam, unless you would rather cut the twine yourself.”
She handed Mr Hawke the blade and watched as he freed Mr Charmers, who thought it was part of the game until he locked eyes with Mr Hawke and turned as white as his own buttocks.
“What? What’s happening? I—I’ve not broken any rules.”
“You brought trouble to my door, Charmers,” Mr Hawke said darkly. He turned to Elsa and snapped his fingers towards the velvet robe draped over the chair. “There is always a penalty for treachery.”
The tangle of people on the bed ignored the interruption and swelled and dipped like a ship on a wild, undulating sea.
Mr Hawke cut the buckle on the unmentionable object covering Mr Charmers’ modesty, wrapped him in the robe and gripped him by the nape as they returned to the dining room.
“I’d like to say these men are taking you to gaol,” Mr Hawke said, shoving the less than angelic Mr Charmers forward. “But I’m not sure you’ll still be breathing once you leave this estate.”
Mr Charmers’ lips curled into a strange wavering smile, his eyes sparkling like polished glass. “Is this my cue to wail?” he slurred. “Is this where Angelica appears with a birch and makes me beg for salvation?”
“This is where you tell me who paid you to steal my cargo and injure my men,” Daniel cried, grabbing the man by the plush robe. “Where you confess to defrauding Jacob Tyler and shooting my wife.”
