Home > A Season for Treason(5)

A Season for Treason(5)
Author: Golden Angel

“Auditioning for what?”

“A play, perhaps?” Lucas’ grin widened, and he swept his hand in front of him, indicating the window. “A maudlin one, for sure. The brooding Marquess glares out at the moor from his lonely window…”

Snorting, Rex tilted his head. With the goings-on of the house party clearly audible, even here in the refuge of his office, he would hardly consider himself lonely. Catching his meaning, Lucas shrugged.

“Lonely in that you’ve hidden away in here instead of enjoying the delights to be had just down the hall.” A feminine shriek of pleasure echoed down that hall, punctuating Lucas’ words.

The Society of Sin’s annual gathering, always held at Hartford Manor the week before the Season proper began, was in full swing. Normally, Rex would be in the center of the activities, but Lucas was right. This year, he was feeling maudlin, introspective, and thwarted.

If only he could find a bride among the Society… but the ladies involved were either already married, had no interest in marrying, or were widows with no intention of wedding again. Occasionally, an agreement would be reached between eligible parties, but not often. None of the currently available ladies appealed to him, anyway. Not for marriage.

“How can I be lonely when you will not leave me alone?” Rex asked, slapping his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

Lucas chuckled and leaned closer, batting his eyes in a fair approximation of a smitten lady. “Say the word, and we can be alone together.”

Shaking his head, Rex used his hand on Lucas’ shoulder to turn his friend around and gave him a hefty whack on his buttocks. Lucas hissed and rubbed the spot, stepping away. While he enjoyed the company of both sexes, a masochist he was not.

“You could not handle me,” Rex teased, but he felt his mood lightening, which had no doubt been Lucas’ purpose. “Very well, let us join the festivities.”

The Society of Sin was for those whose proclivities were deemed perverse by the rest of the ton. They did not cater to any one perversion, but rather delighted in them all. While Rex had no interest in Lucas or any other of the men, he was not daunted by their inclinations.

Unlike regular Society, the Society had a place for everyone, evidenced by the scene Rex and Lucas walked into the parlor.

The Earl of Conyngham had the Countess of Carlisle tied face down to an ottoman in the middle of the room, red welts crossing her buttocks, while he rogered her from behind. One of his friends, Viscount Boringdon, currently occupied her mouth, likely to quiet the shrieks Rex and Lucas had heard from his office.

Sprawled on the couch just beyond the trio, the Earl of Carlisle was watching the scene with hooded eyes while his lover, Mr. Rupert Collins, knelt before him, sucking the Earl’s cock. Lucas eyed the entire tableau with interest, which was no surprise. While Rex did not particularly enjoy sharing his lovers, Lucas reveled in it.

On the window seat, Ladies Abernathy and Weymouth were naked, sharing soft kisses and caresses, clearly enjoying the aftermath of their loving. On the chaise next to them, their husbands Lord Abernathy and Viscount Weymouth were doing the same, Abernathy curled almost protectively around Weymouth. That was one match the Society was responsible for.

To the left, on the far wall, Mrs. Thorpe was standing behind the Duke of Kent, a large paddle in her hand. The dark pink hue of his buttocks suggested they were just getting started.

There was nothing for Rex in the parlor, but he did appreciate seeing his guests enjoying themselves. As he and Lucas paused to take in the scenes, Carlisle looked up, his gaze skipping over Rex and landing on Lucas. The side of his mouth lifted in an inviting smile, and he beckoned with one hand, the other still resting on Collins’ blond head. Not needing to be asked twice, Lucas loped forward, already tugging his shirt over his head.

Chuckling, Rex left them to it and continued his way down the hall.

He passed a woman crawling, naked, on the end of a leash held by her husband, who was watching her rounded bottom, the base of a plug snugly wedged between her firm cheeks. The Sinclairs were not ton, but their great wealth allowed them to move in many of the same circles, and knowledge of their proclivities would ruin them as surely as if they were part of the aristocracy. Monogamous and devoted to each other, they still enjoyed watching and being watched as they indulged in their fetishes.

Walking down the hallway, Rex heard someone pounding on the front door. Frowning, he quickly turned on his heel and headed to the foyer of the house. He’d just reached the top of the stairwell when his butler opened the door. A quick interchange of words, then whoever was outside began to shout, the voice somewhat familiar.

Rex took the stairs two at a time, coming up to loom behind Cormack. The grizzled former soldier could surely handle any trouble, but Rex did not take kindly to anyone interrupting the Society’s proceedings. He narrowed his eyes as the man outside shut up, realizing Cormack was not alone at the door.

Mitchell. Of course. Rex suppressed a sneer.

Julian Mitchell was an anomaly for the Society, holding the dubious honor of being the only person Rex had ever forcibly ejected from the group, which also made him a liability. So far, the man had held his tongue, which was the only reason he was still alive. Rex knew several of the other members had discussed making a further example of him, including the man who had initially sponsored his membership, Lord Gabriel Warwick.

Heir to an Earldom, selfish and cruel, Warwick was one of Rex’s least favorite acquaintances, but he would not deny any man or woman membership because of personal dislike. There were several women who loved what Warwick did to and with them, and far be it from Rex to deny them. Unfortunately, Warwick had miscalculated when he sponsored Mitchell to join them.

The most imperative rule of the Society of Sin was every participant must be willing. Rex considered every woman in his house under his protection during the festivities, and until Mitchell, there had never been any cause for concern. Last year, Mitchell decided he wanted to have his sadistic way with one of Rex’s maids, despite her protests.

The other men had converged on him, and Rex had thrown him out the door with his own two hands.

Warwick, infuriated and clearly worried he would be next, had stepped outside to threaten Mitchell with everything from financial ruin to death. The other man had sworn there would be no such need and had scurried off into the night. After reassuring everyone Mitchell would cause them no further trouble, they had left the matter alone, wary but willing to give Warwick the benefit of the doubt.

He had spoken truly. Mitchell had disappeared into the ether—until now.

“What do you want?” Rex asked, fixing Mitchell with an imperious gaze. His muscles coiled, ready for action. Mitchell was shorter, lighter, and less experienced. He shrank back.

“I need to speak with Warwick.” The man had paled considerably, but he still managed a glare for Cormack. “Your… butler… would not even deign to send a message.”

Looking over his shoulder, Cormack shrugged, not very apologetically. “The rest of the household is occupied, so there would be no one to watch the bounder.”

Mitchell bristled at the description but was wise enough not to protest the insult.

Inwardly sighing, Rex cocked his head. He had not been aware Mitchell and Warwick were still in contact. Thinking about it further, it did make sense. Otherwise, how could Warwick be assured Mitchell kept his lips sealed? He did not like having Mitchell at his door, though, especially during his house party.

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