was highly creative.
Viewing pornography usually sparked only a mild amusement. But this was somehow different. Seeing things larger than life gave sex a new dimension. It was hard to remain entirely unmoved.
Tappan seemed to sense his reaction. “A man would have to be made of stone not to find this somewhat interesting. The sheer scale…”
“Is impressive,” finished Marco.
Both men slowly grinned.
There was a stretch of silence as they wandered through the statues, stopping now and again to take in all the different angles.
“Interesting. Having done a great deal of experimenting in the matter, I am not quite sure that a flesh-and-blood body could bend into that position,” murmured Marco. “But one might die happy for trying.”
“My grandfather occasionally entertained his friends here,” said Tappan as he strolled over to a pair of satyrs with monstrous erections who were wrestling over a flagon of wine. Bathed in sunlight, the stone seemed almost alive. “From what I have heard, the parties became rather wild.”
It didn’t require much imagination to picture the proceedings.
“So, it appears that the famed English stiff upper lip extended to other parts of the old baron’s anatomy,” quipped Marco.
“For the most part, he was a staid, sober fellow. But I daresay we all have some primal passions lurking inside us.” Tappan gave a last look around. “We had better be going if we are to get back to Cluyne Close in time for nuncheon.”
“I daresay the duke’s party would grow more lively if we brought the guests here after the evening meal.”
“Can you imagine the look on Cluyne’s face? Lud, I’d give a monkey to see his reaction.” Tappan gave a bark of laughter. “As for the ladies, they would likely swoon with shock.”
Not all of them, thought Marco. Somehow he couldn’t picture Kate falling into a fit of megrims. She would likely get out her magnifying glass and subject the statues to a thorough examination—and then afterward offer a critique on all the minute errors the artist had made.
“And I daresay the Prussian colonel would be terribly confused,” went on Tappan with a snigger. “He seems so straightlaced, I have a feeling that he sleeps in his uniform.”
“Some women find that braid and medals excite their imagination.”
“I should think those rough edges would be awfully uncomfortable rubbing up against certain places.”
“One man’s pleasure is another’s poison,” remarked Marco.
Dust motes danced in the air as Tappan ran a hand over a nymph’s lush buttocks. “Yes, that’s true,” he murmured. “To each his own.”
What passions did Tappan have lurking inside his breast? wondered Marco idly. Outwardly, the fellow seemed to embody the perfect qualities for a diplomat—an affable temperament, polished manners, and a quick intelligence. Yet as the baron slowly stroked the smooth marble, Marco saw the tautness in the tiny muscles of his hand.
The pressures of the upcoming peace conference were enormous, he reminded himself. England and the other major powers would be responsible for remaking the map of Europe. The intrigue would be thicker than a London fog, swirling old enmities and sworn alliances into a haze of noxious shadows.
“Vienna will be an orgy of self-interest,” mused Marco. Subterfuge and secrets. Suddenly curious, he asked, “Are you looking forward to the trip?”
Tappan held his palm still on the sculpted thigh. “It promises to be an interesting interlude,” he replied slowly. “Though I shall be little more than a glorified clerk in Castlereagh’s delegation, I hope I may have some influence on the outcome of things.”
“A noble sentiment,” drawled Marco. “I wish you luck.”
“You don’t care how the Continent is carved up?”
“Not particularly. You politicians are welcome to wield your blades, just as long as it doesn’t upset my little world of brandy and boudoirs.”
Chapter Thirteen
Well done, Mr. Ludlowe,” called Rochambert. “So far, your arrow has hit closest to the bull’s-eye.”
Lady Caroline Chitworth tittered. So far, observed Kate, the eldest daughter of the Countess of Hammond seemed incapable of coherent speech. She had heard nothing but giggles and sighs from the chit.
“Who is next?” asked the American, stepping back from the chalked line.
Von Seilig reached out for the bow. “I will take a try.”
“I fear your military training gives you an unfair advantage over us,” said Rochambert. “Perhaps you should be required to move back several paces.”
“It has been over a century since we Prussians fought with arrows and clubs, monsieur.”
Kate hid a smile. She hadn’t expected to enjoy herself among strangers, but the colonel was proving to be very pleasant company. He had spent much of the nuncheon