Page 88 of The Duke's Vice

Frederic chuckled. “Funny you should talk propriety in a place like this.”

Ezra’s head began to throb, a known reaction caused by spending too much time with Frederic. “Honestly, Frederic, I don’t have time for this or you. Now, be gone so I can unwind.”

Frederic remained unmoved. “Something troubling you, Ezra? Or, should I say, someone?”

Ezra huffed. “You know what? You have this room. I’ll find another.”

Ezra nearly knocked Frederic over as he barreled out of the room and down towards the main room. He needed another drink.

He came here tonight hoping to find someone who would help erase the memory of Beatrice from his mind.

Everywhere he went he thought he saw her, smelled her, heard her. She was in the crowds at the opera, she was smelling the flowers in the park. He found no refuge at night, her melodic laugh haunted his dreams and caused him to suddenly awake drenched in sweat and lust.

He passed several women who extended their hands, trying to pull his focus from his path to the bar.

“Ah, kind sir, wouldn’t you like to join us in here?” A voluptuous blonde pulled at his arm while her friend stepped in front of him.

“Two for one, kind sir.” She said with a wink behind her mask.

Ezra stopped and looked at the women. Both beautiful with bodies he would normally find enticing but he felt no attraction.

He frowned. “Not tonight, ladies. I appreciate the invitation. Perhaps another time.”

The lie tasted like sand on his tongue. There wouldn’t be another time. Perhaps, like Frederic, he has outgrown these parties. Only, Frederic outgrew them due to his marriage. Ezra wasn’t married, had no intention of doing so, so then why did this no longer whet his appetite?

He side stepped the two women as his heart thudded against his chest and he ignored it. A small part of him had suspicions as to why he had a change of heart, but he refused to acknowledge it. Much for his sanity than anything. He was too far set in his ways to let anything, or anyone for that matter, change his perspective.

He made his way down the hallway and stepped into the main room. The lights were dim and couples had paired off on various chairs and sofas. There was a small group in the one corner laughing and clinking their drinks together, sloshing their drinks onto themselves and the floor.

Ezra avoided that group as he made his way towards the bar tucked in the front corner. Has it always been this loud and raucous here?

That’s when he heard it. Her. More precisely, her laugh. The sound stopped him dead in his tracks. Surely he was hearing things. His eyes quickly skimmed the room and landed on the corner group that had several women giggling. One of them must have a similar laugh to hers.

His feet began to move when he heard her laugh ring out again. His pulse picked up and a sixth sense was telling him he wasn’t imagining it.

He looked back to the group in the corner, the sound wasn’t coming from them. It was coming from the front of the house. Ezra stepped over lounging bodies, and snuggling pairs and made his way to the front of the house.

Ezra stood staring at the bar. A lone figure sat on a stool in front of the bar. He knew that cloak.

It was large, black, and unremarkable in any way other yet he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, whose body it was covering. His fingers itched to reach out and grab it, to hold a piece of it, her.

He tightened his hands into fists as the realization dawned on him that if that cloak is hers, that meant that she was here, alone, without him. Even worse, what if she wasn’t here alone? What if she was here with someone?

The thought fueled his steps as he charged up to the bar.

“Looking for love, mistress?”

Ezra heard the woman’s question as the cloaked figure lowered the hood. Long brown locks cascaded down the seated woman’s back. Ezra’s mouth ran dry as his footsteps once again halted. Flashes of their time together at Swarthmore’s played in his head. His stomach squeezed at the memory of feeling so carefree and at ease with her that night.

He missed what her answer was so he stepped closer. He wanted to reach out and grab her, demand to know why she was here. But a part of him thought she was a mirage. He had envisioned her so many places over the past week he couldn’t be positive it was truly here even within feet of her person.

“Good. We can’t help with the first one, but I’m sure someone can help you with the latter.”

Beatrice laughed and the sound settled over him like a warm blanket. He was within reaching distance. All he had to do was extend his arm and he could touch her but something was holding him back.

“Looks like we may have a volunteer. Lucky girl.” The bar maid cooed as she motioned her head to Beatrice’s right.

“I don’t think the mistress will be here long enough for anyone else to volunteer.” A man stepped up on the other side of Beatrice pulling her focus.

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