He had the audacity to look amused. “Forgive me, but yes. Although, I must admit, I enjoyed kissing you immensely.”
Her thoughts whirling, Venetia scrambled to sit up and moved to the end of the chaise to put some distance between them. “You are a devil.”
“I have been called worse. Straighten your bodice, darling. You don’t want to reveal your lovely charms to any of the gentlemen below and have them ogling you the way Knowlsbridge did.”
Aghast that her naked breasts were still bared to his gaze, she fumbled to rearrange her bodice.
In her simmering silence, Traherne straightened his own clothing and rose from the chaise, then held out his hand to her. “Come now, I will escort you to your carriage and send you home.”
His declaration left her sputtering and speechless. Ignoring his outstretched hand, Venetia stood but kept her knife at the ready.
“Don’t forget your mask, love,” Traherne suggested.
She searched around her and discovered it had fallen to the floor during his seduction.
Distracted, she managed to replace the mask and tie the strings behind her turban while chafing at his underhanded methods. He had kissed her into dazed insensibility and imperiled whatever moral standards she once possessed.
Venetia was thoroughly dismayed she had permitted him to go so far. How could she be so weak-willed? All her caution and resistance had been annihilated by warm, hungry desire. Traherne had mesmerized her, excited her, aroused her.
Much worse, he had effectively neutralized her threat to expose him as a Lothario. Although her goals were laudable, she could not possibly tell her sister that she was trying to break up Traherne’s courtship of Ophelia and spoil their romance. Ophelia would only think her bitter and jealous because of lingering wounds from her shattered betrothal.
Venetia was disgusted with herself—and her anger showed in her tone when she finally spoke.
“I am warning you, my lord, keep away from my sister. She won’t follow in my footsteps if I can help it. I mean to fight for her with the last breath in my body.”
“An admirable sentiment but unnecessary. I don’t plan to propose to your sister anytime in the near future.”
“And you never will if I have my way.”
“I will call on you tomorrow at Mrs. Newcomb’s home to discuss the situation in depth. For now I want you safe.”
His offer took Venetia aback, as did his interest in her safety. Disbelieving, she peered at him through her mask. “You truly mean to continue our conversation tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Will you swear it?”
“I give you my solemn word. What is Mrs. Newcomb’s direction in Kensington?”
His reply mollified her the slightest degree. She might not trust him, but she did not believe he would lie to her face. “It is two miles past Hyde Park, on Melbury Road, Number Twenty-three.”
“Come,” Traherne urged. “There is a back exit from the club. I will take you to your carriage.”
When she stood debating his sincerity, he smiled that charming, self-deprecating smile that never failed to make her stomach flutter. “If it is any consolation, you struck a grave blow to my self-esteem. This is a first for me, leaving a bedchamber before a lady is completely satisfied.”
“It is no consolation at all,” Venetia muttered as she returned her knife to its sheath and tucked it inside her reticule.
“If you wish, we can remain here and take our kissing further.”
She took a defensive step backward, but his offer settled the issue. “Not if my life depended upon it.”
Laughing softly, Traherne escorted her from the room, and together they went downstairs. After gathering her cloak and his greatcoat and tall beaver hat from the majordomo, he led her through a corridor to a rear door. Once again Venetia grew wary, but when she hesitated, he reassured her by explaining: “The stable mews can be reached from this exit rather than waiting to have your carriage delivered to the front door.”
She nodded, realizing this was how patrons slipped in and out of the sin club to maintain their privacy.
Outside, they descended a short flight of steps into a foggy mist. The laughter and music grew quieter as they followed a dimly lit pathway toward the rear of the property.
The night air was cool and damp, making Venetia glad for her cloak. When her satin evening slippers made her stumble on the uneven ground, Traherne took her arm to steady her. She tried to pull back from his touch, but he wouldn’t release her.