Callie slowed down as she passed each doorway, cataloging the activities and those present inside, eager to absorb every bit of this mysterious, fascinating place. As Ralston led her deeper into the maze of corridors, the number of open doors dwindled and the hallway became darker and more quiet. As they passed one room, Callie noted the door was ajar and the room inside warm and golden with candlelight. She heard a distinctly feminine laugh from within, and she froze midstep, unable to help herself from taking a closer look.

Peering through the crack in the door, Callie’s eyes widened as she took in the scene beyond. There were three men inside, each wearing a domino mask, each seated in one of three large leather chairs arranged in a tight circle. The men, though relaxed in their chairs, were transfixed by the woman who stood at the center of the cluster, tall and buxom, her hair cascading down her back in a luscious mane of ebony curls. She was stunning: high cheekbones, lovely skin, perfectly kohled eyes, pouting red lips curved in a wicked, knowing smile. Callie was transfixed by her—just as the men inside seemed to be—for it was obvious that the woman was a courtesan.

She wore a gown that was not for public view—a bold, sapphire silk with a tightly fitted bodice that appeared more corset than dress. Her br**sts nearly spilled from the top of the dress as she bent low over one of the men. Callie held her breath as he reached out and grazed the side of one breast, his eyes transfixed on the woman’s feminine bounty. She gave a low laugh as he touched her, boldly placing her hand over his and guiding him to touch her breast more firmly. He did as he was directed, and one of the other men reached for the hem of the courtesan’s gown and began to raise it, baring long legs and, finally, her rounded bottom. Callie gasped quietly as he caressed the woman’s behind.

The gasp turned into a little squeal as Ralston grabbed her arm and pulled her from the spot where she had been frozen. He growled close to her ear, “This is exactly why men’s clubs are not for women.”

“It appears that particular room is most definitely for women,” she replied tartly.

He did not respond, instead guiding her into the next open doorway before closing and locking the door behind them. When she heard the lock click ominously in the silence, she whirled to face Ralston, who was glowering at her from his position—pressed against the closed door.

“Did I not make myself clear? You were to stay close to me and not to look at anyone.”

“I didn’t!”

“So you were not just peering into a room full of people?”

“I wouldn’t call it full,” Callie hedged. His gaze narrowed at her words. “It’s not as if they saw me!”

“They could have!”

“They were rather busy,” she pointed out. “Perhaps you could explain something to me?”

His gaze turned wary. “Perhaps.”

“How is it that one woman is…enough…for three men?”

Ralston raised his eyes to the ceiling and made a choking sound. After a moment, he looked back at her. “I don’t know.”

She gave him a look of disbelief. “She must be a very talented courtesan.”

He raked a hand through his hair before saying in a strangled tone, “Callie.”

She plunged ahead, innocently, “Well, that was what she was. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“How very fascinating!” She smiled brightly. “I’ve never met a courtesan, you know.”

“I could have surmised as such.”

“She looked just as I imagined they did! Well, she was rather prettier.”

Ralston’s eyes darted around the room as though he was looking for the quickest escape route. “Callie. Wouldn’t you rather gamble than talk about courtesans?”

She tilted her head, considering his question. “I don’t really know…both things are worth the time, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said with a surprised laugh. “I don’t.”

Ignoring him, she took in the room around them. It was decorated with Grecian friezes depicting the gods and goddesses in a variety of different scenes, and furnished with a large card table and a collection of carved wooden chairs. At one side of the room, in front of a roaring fireplace, there was a seating area complete with two overstuffed chairs and a long chaise. The walls that did not boast the enormous pieces of marble artwork were lined with bookshelves. It was a comfortable, if masculine, room.

She turned back to Ralston. “Won’t others be irritated that we’ve commandeered this room?”

Ralston removed his gloves and hat and placed them on a small table by the door. “I doubt it. By this time of night men are usually fully ensconced in whatever…pursuits they are planning for the evening.”

“Pursuits.” She repeated dryly, mimicking his actions with her own hat and gloves before removing his greatcoat and hanging it on a nearby stand. Turning back to him, she noted his sharp gaze. “You’re not still angry with me, are you? We arrived with no difficulty. No one out there even knows I am in here.”

A long moment went by as he gave her outfit a thorough perusal. He shook his head. “I just find it impossible to believe that not one man in this entire club noticed that you’re no more a man than you are a giraffe.”

One side of her mouth kicked up. “I should think they would have noticed if I were a giraffe. And why do you say that? Don’t you think the disguise is a good one?” She looked down at herself, suddenly uncertain. “I know I have rather a…figure, but I think I’ve hidden it…well, as much as I can.”