Five

Morley drew the carriage to a stop across the street from the common-enough brick building that housed the elite brothel. Dell looked out the window and saw a group of gentlemen staggering down the street a short distance away. Based on their fancy togs and ribald comments, their intended destination was not difficult to assume.

Perfect.

Dell exited his carriage in a sudden lurch then tripped over his own feet, nearly sprawling into the road. He righted himself just in time to save his face from the pavement. He stumbled and swayed his way to the brothel’s front door. His coat was askew, and his eyes drooped blearily. Bursting through the front door, he collided with Pendragon’s doorman, a beefy fellow who served well as an all-around keeper of the peace.

Slapping a sloppy grin on his face, Dell patted the man’s shoulder as he righted himself.

“’Ello, good sir. I hope I’ve made it to the right place,” he exclaimed jovially.

“That depends on what you seek.”

Dell continued to sway precariously.

“Pleasure. Beauty.” He waggled his eyebrows. “A lovely friend with whom to while away the hours.”

“Have you a sponsor?”

“Sponsor? I’ve got plenty of coin,” Dell replied, patting at his coat pocket, making sure the man heard the jingle of coins inside.

The doorman shook his head. “You must have a sponsor, or you go no farther.”

Dell scrunched his face into an expression of exaggerated distress. “Well, damn me.”

Perfectly timed, the fine-dressed gentlemen from the street pushed in through the door behind Dell, causing a momentary ruckus as they filtered through the foyer and into the drawing room beyond. They were all obviously familiar with the place and must have been known by the doorman as he nodded them through without concern.

As they passed, Dell flicked a quick and assessing glance at each of them, looking for one who would welcome his offer. He knew the one in an instant and acted without hesitation. As the man with ruddy ears and bloodshot eyes stepped past him, Dell gave him a friendly nudge of his shoulder.

“’Ello, my good man. It seems I’m in need of a sponsor. Be a mate, would ya?”

The gentleman was several years older than Dell, but about the same age as Mr. Black. He narrowed his eyes to look at him, though Dell doubted it helped him to see any better, considering he was about as drunk as Dell was pretending to be.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Black, and I’ve got enough gold in my purse to buy us a good bottle of scotch once we get into that room.” He pointed in the direction of the drawing room.

The other man lit up with a wide grin as he threw his arm around Dell’s shoulders. “Well, all right then, consider yourself sponsored, Mr. Black. What shall we toast to?”

The doorman stepped forward. “You do understand the consequences if there is any trouble?” he asked solemnly of Mr. Black’s new best mate.

“Of course I do,” the gentleman replied breezily, waving off the doorman’s concerns. “You’ve never had a problem with anyone else I’ve sponsored.”

After another brief hesitation, the doorman stepped aside. “Of course, Your Grace. Enjoy your evening.”

“Always do,” the apparent duke replied as he propelled them both into the drawing room.

Robert French always asked to speak with Pendragon privately, bypassing the common areas. But Dell didn’t want to speak with the mistress this evening. He needed a chatty girl with just enough information.

Stumbling into the dimly lit room with a goofy grin on his face, Dell glanced about.

Pendragon’s drawing room was done up in Grecian-themed decor. A large, vividly painted mural covered one wall. It was a dreamy scene depicting several woodland nymphs being pleasured by the attentions of a randy satyr. The chandelier hanging from the center of the room was sparsely lit, providing just enough light to cast a golden glow through the multifaceted crystals that comprised its structure. Chaises and sofas filled the space, with privacy curtains placed strategically about to create little arbors for couples to retire to. Girls, dressed in frothy, Grecian-style creations that revealed more flesh than they concealed, wandered about with wine or sat cuddling with gentlemen. A voluptuous woman danced provocatively on a makeshift stage in the center of the room, while another woman stood nearby singing a seductive tune.

Dell had visited the brothel only once as a client, when he had come looking for a girl, any girl. He had been young and stupid, with a bag of shiny gold and a sponsorship voucher from a very happy client after completing a risky job as Nightshade. He had thought he could lavish his newfound wealth on a pretty woman. Instead, he had gotten two women prettier than he could have hoped, a night of perfect debauchery, a morning hangover he’d never forget, and no money left in his purse.

It hadn’t been worth it.

Whenever he got to the point where he desired a woman’s company, he went back to the theater district. He knew plenty of women there who welcomed his random visits. Women he called friends.

Such visits were few and far between. Nightshade’s work kept him very busy. He enjoyed being busy.

It took a little time to excuse himself from the duke’s company. Leaving behind the newly acquired bottle of scotch helped. After bidding the duke good evening, Dell executed a disgraceful bow that had him dancing on his toes again to keep his feet, before he swung around to stumble toward the stage.

Dell chose a seat in front of the dancer, tilting his face up to watch her rolling movements in awe. He paused every now and then to scan the room and its occupants.

He knew which girl he wanted to talk to. He had encountered her a time or two as Robert French. She was a bubbly little thing with a penchant for giggling and gossip.

And she currently appeared to be unoccupied.

It took only another moment to catch her eye. She bounded over to him, her large breasts bouncing in time to her steps. Not wanting to disappoint her obvious effort to draw his gaze to her bosom, Dell ogled the generous globes, making sure to put an appropriately salacious expression on his face.

“Can I get you some wine?” the girl asked.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve had enough wine tonight. I’d rather have you. On my lap, if you please.”

The girl giggled delightedly and took the seat he offered.

Dell took a few minutes to tickle her playfully and nip at her neck. Her skin tasted of cheap perfume, but she smelled clean beneath it.

“I can’t believe I’ve never visited this delightful establishment before. I daresay I’ve been missing out on a lot of fun,” he slurred amiably.

“Well, I’m delighted you dropped in.” She squirmed suggestively in his lap. “What brought you to us?”

The precious girl had asked just the right question.

“Some blokes were talking about something special happening here tonight. I decided right then to leave the party I was at and see if I could discover what the fuss was about. Or was I at the pub? Damn me! I can’t recall where I’ve been tonight. I’m lucky I found my way here.”

“I think I’ll count myself as lucky too,” she purred sweetly, trying to reach for the buttons of his shirt.

Not wanting her to discover that the buttons didn’t actually work, Dell grasped her hips and made a clumsy play of turning her back to him so he could gain better access to her breasts. He cupped her flesh in his hands, kneading enthusiastically, silently apologizing to the girl for having to put up with his “drunken” groping.

He pressed his lips to her ear. “I heard something about a fancy piece, virginal and all that.”

The girl stiffened and replied evasively. “All us girls are for sale for the night, darling. None of us are virgins, but I promise you’ll be happy for that.” She arched her back and ground her buttocks against his groin.

Dell decided to take a stab in the dark. “Just as well, I suppose. I doubt I’d have the blunt to afford a virgin anyway.”

The girl snorted on a laugh. “You’re likely right about that. Only our most elite clients were given the opportunity. And it’d’ve cost you more than I’d charge you for a month of fun.”

“Did I miss it, then?”

“I’m afraid so. I promise I can make it up to you,” she suggested in a sultry tone.

Dell smiled with true satisfaction. So the Chadwick girl had not gone to the flesh traders. Not that a wealthy bloke with a fortune to spend on his pleasures would be much better.

He had about as much information as he would get as Mr. Black. He would be better off returning as Robert French to talk to Pendragon directly.

Dell sent his body into a sudden spasm as he choked on a deep cough.

The girl on his lap spun to look at him in alarm. “What the…”

Dell bulged his eyes and brought his hand to his mouth as he convulsed again.

“Oh no,” the girl exclaimed as she jumped to her feet.

Dell immediately lunged from the sofa and ran from the room and out the front door. He made sure to stop and lean into the bushes to gag and cough for proper effect. No point in completely burning his bridges. There may someday be cause for Mr. Black to visit the brothel again. After giving a convincing show of emptying his stomach, he swayed to his feet and started strolling lazily down the sidewalk, as though he had completely forgotten where he’d just been.

Morley caught up to him with the carriage around the next corner.

As Dell settled back into the cushions, he prepared himself for the confrontation ahead. He would have to tell the irritating Chadwick girl what he had discovered. He knew it was bad news as well as good, but she was not likely to see anything beyond the fact that her sister was not in his company.

He grimaced at the thought of what awaited him back at the house.