her blush again. The last one had stained her smooth cheeks. He wanted to see if it could travel down the neckline of her tasteless dress.
But he’d underestimated her. “According to my resources, the Heavenly Host has always had a history of consensuality. Everyone must be agreeable to whatever depraved acts are committed.”
“What sort of depraved acts?” he asked in his sweetest voice.
“The sort of act you were about to perform with Violet Highstreet,” she said, unruffled.
“In truth, she was the one who was going to perform it. I was simply the happy recipient….”
She’d done a good job of keeping her color down until that point; he gave her credit, but her cheeks flamed once more. He decided to press his point. “So fellatio, which is the technical term for it, is one of the acts performed at gatherings of the Heavenly Host? I regret to inform you, Lady Carstairs, but that same act is performed in almost every bedroom in this city.”
“And street corner and alleyway.”
“Yes, well we know your opinion of that, and I’m not about to argue with you. So is your mission to stamp out oral pleasuring, or something else? Because I can assure you that convincing people to refrain from it is unlikely….”
“Would you stop!” she cried, her sangfroid finally showing cracks. “I didn’t come here to talk about…about…”
“Fellatio,” he supplied helpfully.
“That. It’s the Heavenly Host that needs to be stopped. Their new mandate is total depravity, the kind that knows no limits.”
“Such as?”
“Such as binding people so that they have no recourse. They are forced to receive the attentions of someone and are unable to move, and occasionally even to speak, but must simply endure.”
He laughed. “You’ll find that in any whore’s bag of tricks, Lady Carstairs, and even in the best bedrooms, as well. You misunderstand the game. Trust me—it can be quite…stimulating.”
“They rape women.”
His amusement faded. “Don’t be absurd. The women who attend the gatherings are there willingly and always have been. The ones who participate in rough play agree to it and are well compensated.”
“Rough play?” she echoed. “Is that what you call it when a woman is whipped until she bleeds, whose face is scarred so badly she won’t go out in public? Is that what you call it when young girls are brought in to satisfy the base urges of the foulest men on the face of the earth?”
“No,” he snapped. She was no longer such a charming diversion. “The Heavenly Host has always had an edict against using children, and that wouldn’t have changed. People have always believed horror stories about them, when in fact they harm no one. They’re just a group of spoiled aristocrats enjoying being wicked. Their gatherings are not about innocence.”
“True enough. They’re about innocence de spoiled.”
He waved her piety away. “As for the woman who was scarred, I’m certain that was an accident and deeply regretted. And I expect that the woman was well compensated for the fact that her future earning power is greatly diminished. That has always been the way of the Host, and I can’t believe things have changed that much.”
“The girl was raped, whipped and slashed with a knife. When she escaped she tried to report it to the police, but they simply handed her back to her tormenters. She hasn’t been seen since.”
His eyes narrowed. “And how do you know all this?”
“Her sister has joined us.”
“And you’re trying to convince me that someone has done away with the woman? I don’t believe it,” he said flatly.
“It doesn’t matter what you believe. It happens to be true. Aileen would never have abandoned Betsey on the streets if she had any choice. And now they’re working toward their most horrifying act of all.”
Bloody Christ, he thought irritably. The world had always had ridiculous theories about the essentially harmless activities of the Heavenly Host, and it was no wonder someone like Charity Carstairs believed them.
“Pray do not tell me they’re planning an orgy.” He did his best to sound bored. “That’s de rigueur for the Host. I’ve even participated in them when I was a guest at their gatherings. Quite entertaining the first time or two, but it pales after a while. You never know whose bum you’re stroking, a high-priced courtesan or your father’s best friend.” He shuddered delicately.
“I’m delighted you find this is amusing,” she said. “And, indeed, why shouldn’t you? No one will ever miss the girls they take, and as long as you’re not a part of