Free Sin and Sensibility by Suzanne Enoch

the other hand, backed away and headed into the depths of the room.
    “I’ll see which of her friends are here,” he said as he vanished.
    “Most of them,” Valentine supplied.
    “Deverill, you—”
    “Oh, no, you don’t. You lost her. I’ve been granted the evening off. I’ll be lurking in your damned shrubbery in the morning. But if you find out where she might be going tomorrow, send me a bloody note .”
    Melbourne gave a short grin. “Have a good evening.”
    “I intend to.”
    “So, my lady swan, are you enjoying yourself?”
    Eleanor blinked. She’d never seen chandelier light glow so brightly, and she kept catching herself staring at the massive wrought-silver piece hanging above the center of the ballroom. “I think I’ve been too liberal with the brandy and…whatever else that is.”
    “Rum,” the man in the black fox half mask replied. “And you’ve had less than most of the other females here.”
    With a grin that didn’t feel quite centered, Eleanor gestured for one of the footmen, who were all dressed as white doormice. “Another rum if you please, my good mouse.”
    In the corner a bear and another swan swooned across a chair, masks bumping as their mouths locked. Quietly in the background an orchestra of pan flutes and sitars played
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    something that sounded Eastern and erotic, while a pair of wolves, male and female, emerged from one of the many closeted alcoves along the far side of the room. The male wolf’s hand was firmly attached to the female’s left breast, which barely had enough material over it to call it covered, anyway.
    Other muted sounds of women moaning and men’s lower-pitched grunts were even more unsettling. She pretended to ignore them. The liquor helped her accept the idea of staying, but it also seemed to attune her to the illicit activities going on all over the house. Eleanor took another long swallow of rum and swayed.
    The fox cupped her elbow, his voice soft in her ear.
    “Perhaps you should sit down for a moment, my lady swan.”
    Exotic perfumes mingled with the smell of liquor and heated bodies. With her third snifter of brandy the sensible voice in her head had become slurred and unintelligible, but even the part of her that acknowledged that she’d never been anywhere as decadent and wild in her life knew she should be elsewhere. Every time she thought to suggest that she and Stephen leave, however, another glass appeared in her hand, and another slightly condescending taunt came softly regarding her courage and her resolve.
    “Yes,” she returned, hearing the slur in her own voice,
    “I think I would like to sit down for a moment.”
    She took a step toward a free chair, but the floor was lower under her feet than she expected. Stumbling, she would have fallen flat on her swan mask if Stephen hadn’t caught her.
    “Steady there,” he said, amusement dripping from his Sin and Sensibility / 65
    voice. “This way. There’s somewhere private where we can relax a little.”
    “I really think I should go home,” she managed, casting one hand out for balance. She’d had a little too much wine before, though rarely, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling so…thick, and dreamy. “We’ve been here for a very long time.”
    “We’ll go shortly,” Stephen agreed. “After you’ve recovered yourself a little. We can’t have Melbourne seeing you like this, now can we?”
    “Oh, no.” Eleanor put a finger to her lips. “Shh. Don’t say his name. I don’t want anyone to know who I am.”
    “Right.” Stephen pulled aside a heavy curtain and helped her into a small room with only a couch and a small table bearing one candle. “There you go. Have a seat, lady swan.”
    She sank gratefully onto the soft couch, so weary she could have fallen asleep then and there. Stephen sat beside her and reached over to pull the mask from her face.
    “Better?” he asked.
    Her eyes closed dreamily, and she forced them open again. “Yes,