He stopped to take in his surroundings, for the night had grown blustery enough to end his patience for the solitary walk. He was at the corner of Russell Street and Drury Lane, not far from Covent Gardens. It wasn’t just the cold that had caused him to finally look up, but the sounds of carriages and conversation from the theaters on Drury. He turned to head up Drury, the best place to hail down a hackney cab, when he suddenly stopped. He was not in the mood to go home, and he was even less in the mood to encounter anyone he knew outside the theaters. No doubt Julian had made his excuses to their friends at White’s, saying that Richard felt ill, and it would not do to have the story contradicted by others seeing him near the theater.
He set a swift pace down Russell Street. It did not take long for him to decide where he was really going.
And why not? Why shouldn’t he? Julian had gotten his pleasure for the evening and felt not a wisp of remorse, so why should Richard not do the same? Certainly he would not get what he really wanted, and he would be committing a hypocrisy that was almost laughable by visiting a whore, but at least he would be able to spend a few hours doing whatever the hell he wanted without being mocked. If he wanted to kiss and fondle and whisper
sentimental
nonsense until he passed out, a whore would at least play along and let him enjoy his little fantasy for a while.
God! Was that what he wanted from Julian? For him to
play along?
Was he so desperate that he was willing to settle for a fantasy? It was pathetic.
He bounded up a flight of clean, smooth steps.
“Sir.” The footman at Madam Dorlet’s nodded passively as he glanced at Richard and immediately recognized his face. Such servants, who existed more for protection than service, were always adept at remembering faces. He took Richard’s hat and cloak and closed the door. “May I offer you a drink in the card room, sir?”
“No. The parlor, I think. I’m not in the mood for cards.”
“Very good, sir. Are you expected?”
Richard almost smiled, ruefully. The question didn’t mean what it would mean in any other house. The man wasn’t asking if he had an appointment, since whorehouses were hardly so formal. No, he was being asked if he was a typical customer looking for the typical services.
“No, I am not,” he said as he smoothed his shirt cuffs. “I will take a brandy near the fireplace while I wait, if you please.”
The man nodded and disappeared down the hall.
Richard took a seat on a solitary chair near the fire rather than one of the sofas; all the better to deter any of the girls from attempting to join him. There were other men in the room, as there almost always were, taking their ease on the sofas and laughing pleasantly as they engaged in conversation with girls who sat next to them or hovered behind their chairs. Every so often, a man would rise with one of the ladies on his arm, and they would quietly disappear through one of the doors fitted cleverly into the wall paneling.
It was one of the reasons Richard had always liked Dorlet’s establishment. It was pleasant, dignified. The girls did not walk around naked with their faces painted like stage clowns, nor did the patrons hoot and howl or act like brutes knee-deep in their cups. It was a shrewd strategy on Dorlet’s part. She knew she would never be able to compete with the wealthier houses that serviced the cream of the ton, and so she had set her sights on the more conservative merchant classes. They had money and the same sexual appetites as any landed gentleman, but they demanded a gilding of respectability, of faux decency, on everything.
A servant arrived with his brandy, and Richard sipped it for several minutes until a soft rustle of silk caused him to look up. Madam Dorlet took the chair adjacent to his and rested her hands in her lap.
“Mr. Richards.” She smiled. “I have not seen you in ages. How may I assist you this evening?”
Now Richard did smile. Mr. Richards was the name they had agreed upon long ago for the sake of discretion, even though she knew him to be none other than Lord Richard Avery, brother of the Duke of Culfrey.
He rested his glass on the arm of the chair and turned it slowly. “Patrick?”
Madam Dorlet frowned. “I’m afraid Patrick is no longer available. He left the house some time ago.”
He nodded. “I see.”
“Edmund is available, if you would like him to keep you company.”
He was tactful enough not to show his distaste. Edmund was a dandy of the first order, a simpering fop who reminded him more of a child than a man. He had never been interested in such creatures.
“No.” He shook his head. “If that is all, I’m afraid I will finish my brandy and say good night to you, ma’am.”
She nodded her understanding but did not get up to leave. She tilted her head and looked into the fire for a moment, then leaned toward him and spoke with a quieter voice. “I could recommend something else this evening, if you are willing to tolerate a novice.”
“I have no interest in boys, ma’am. You know that.”
“Of course.” She smiled knowingly. “Five and twenty would be my guess, hardly a boy. Well-spoken, obviously educated.” She paused. “A gentleman.”
He stared at her for a few long seconds before he blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Her voice remained low, guaranteeing that the other patrons would not overhear. “I had an unusual request this evening. Another patron has expressed his distaste with the idea of keeping company with any of my male companions, and he has requested to spend the evening with another patron.”
He scoffed openly and almost upset his brandy. “Are you serious? Ma’am, allow me to congratulate you. I have yet to meet anyone who can so prettily dress up the most absurd notions with such proper-sounding language.”
Rather than being put out, she smiled and showed not a little amusement herself. “Is it not quite the same, sir? Were I to have a suitable companion to offer you this evening whom you had never met, you would not reject him on that account, I believe. The only difference here is that the man is…well…”
“Not a whore,” Richard supplied. “Very interesting, ma’am. However, I had not planned to spend this evening catering to someone else.”
But even as he spoke, a part of him was intrigued. Why would any man come to a brothel if he did not want a whore? As Julian had so clearly demonstrated for him that evening, having encounters with other men was a relatively easy endeavor if one simply knew who was… He understood perfectly. Yes.
If
one knew.
“You said he was a novice?” Richard continued. “That is an interesting choice of words.”
“But accurate, I assure you. If you are uninterested, I will leave you to your brandy. However, if it would influence your decision, the gentleman is undeniably handsome. And just as undeniably nervous.”
Where he had previously been intrigued, Richard now found himself fascinated. Damn the woman, but she knew it too! “Nervous,” he repeated.
“Yes. It is not my custom, as you know, to ever discuss patrons with one another, but this being an unusual circumstance, please allow me to be blunt. I believe the young man is dabbling in untested waters.” She lowered her eyes. “I know who he is, of course, but I am certain he does not move in social circles. He indicated that he never spends time in London, and that this is the first he has been here in many years. I very much doubt he would know your face, or you his.”
“Thus, if it should turn out to be a horrible disaster, I need only run from the house with arms flailing, but no more damage than that.” He downed the remainder of his brandy with a chuckle. The notion of keeping company with someone uninitiated should have been unappealing, but something about it drew him tonight. No doubt the contrast to Julian would be astonishing.
“I would hope your exit to be a little more dignified, sir, but yes. I believe we understand each other,” she replied, though the twitch of her lips belied her stiff tone. He knew Dorlet’s prim matron act was a part of her profession, specifically designed to match the conservative merchant class she served. He also knew she found it endlessly amusing.
He leaned close to her, as close as the other men were hovering over their ladies, and whispered, “I’ve missed you, Bess. And you know better than to offer Edmund up to me!”
She laughed softly, her facade breaking just enough for their own hearing. “I do know, and I couldn’t help myself. I know how you can’t stand him. So long as we’re whispering like conspirators,
my lord
, I would not have mentioned this to you if I didn’t think it was a fit. Go upstairs. Meet him. If the situation is unsuitable, the only price will be a little discomfort and embarrassment.”
“Which I have already had in ample supply tonight,” he muttered. He saw her curious look and waved a hand. “Never mind. Yes.”
She raised her brow. “Yes?”
He nodded and set his glass on the table. He was feeling reactionary tonight, reckless, like something in his life had to change and he wasn’t sure what. He rose to his feet and smoothed the front of his silk waistcoat with a tug. “Yes,” he said again. “I’ll meet your nervous novice gentleman.”
Madam Dorlet turned in her chair with a smile and raised her hand to beckon a servant.
Chapter Two
Dreams Fulfilled
A maid showed Richard to a room at the end of the spacious second-floor hall and left him without further word. He stood in front of the door for an uncomfortable amount of time, his hand poised in front of him. Should he knock? He would not do so if he were seeing a whore. Then again, in that situation it would have been he who was already in the room waiting for his paid companion to join him. In that sense, one could almost suggest that he was playing the role of courtesan tonight.
That
brought a wry smile to his face.
No, it would not do. Rude though it might be, he was not about to enter the room like some kind of supplicant. Better that Mr. Nervous Novice, or whoever he really was, be aware from the beginning that anything that happened tonight would happen on an equal footing.
I have lost my damn mind, surely.
Before he could talk any more sense into himself, he opened the door and strode in as if he had not a care in the world. The facade lasted for all of two seconds. There was a startled gasp, followed by a quick scuffle of feet on the plush Persian rug. A man stood near the fireplace, his hand gripping the arm of a leather chair as if he had just bolted up from it. He was slightly taller than average, with wavy dark blond hair that looked almost like honey in the candlelight. He was in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, his coat having been laid over the back of one of the nearby sofas. He was…
Oh.
“Sir, eh…” the man began, his voice trembling. “A-are you in the wrong room?”
Richard continued to stare at him, as both of them had already been doing for many long and awkward seconds. He consider answering in the affirmative and making his exit, for perhaps the question had been asked as a form of dismissal. Perhaps the man had taken a look at Richard, decided that he was unappealing, and was giving him a graceful way out. But Richard’s confidence in his own charms was too strong for that, and he might have believed the man wanted him to leave had the man not given himself away by casting his eyes quickly up and down Richard’s person. The man swallowed hard and darted his gaze to the floor.
Decidedly nervous…
“No,” Richard said, schooling his features into a friendly smile. “No, I think I’m in the right place. May I join you for a drink?” He strode toward the bottles on the sideboard with all the cool nonchalance of a man in his own study.
The man followed him with his gaze. “Yes. Please.”
Richard turned his back to the man as he busied himself with the glasses and the brandy decanter. It gave him a brief moment to collect himself and try to calm his breathing. In addition to being more damned nervous than he would have expected of himself, he was also fighting a very heady onset of excitement.
The man was more than
decidedly handsome
. Dear God, he was
beautiful!
The room was dim, lit only by the fire in the hearth and a few scattered candles, but in that light Richard had seen a glimpse of pure cornflower blue. Surely it had been a trick of the light. Gray eyes could sometimes take on the strangest colors depending on the room and the light. He would know soon enough.
He turned with his glass in hand and strode toward the fireplace. The man was still standing next to his chair, every muscle in his body as taut as a wire. Those muscles showed to excellent form through his fawn trousers and fitted blue waistcoat. Both items were of superior cut, but plain and tailored with a conservative eye. In the back of his mind Richard began postulating who Mr. Nervous Novice was. A merchant, perhaps? Or lower gentry, maybe the younger son of a baronet. In the front of his mind, however, he was thinking of no such details.
“I’m sorry I made such a startled image there,” the man choked out between deep breaths. “I expected that… Well, I thought they would announce you.”
Richard took a seat on the sofa facing the fire rather than one of the chairs. He sipped his brandy. “You mean like visitors being shown to the parlor? Dorlet’s footman has many functions, but I’m afraid that is not one of them.”
The man chuckled nervously and glanced at the chair he had just vacated.
“Join me, won’t you? I’ll get a terrible crick in my neck if I keep looking up like this to talk.” Richard smiled and ran his eyes over the remaining space on the sofa. He wasn’t sure where this debonair act was coming from on his part, but everything about the man’s anxious posture and uncertain voice told him that he would have to guide the evening. And it was not an unpleasant idea. It had been a very long time since he had been with anyone who needed guidance in anything.
“Thank you,” the man said with a crooked smile. He took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, not as far from Richard as he could get, but it was damn close.
“Dorlet has some of the finest brandy available these days.” Richard lifted the glass and took another sip. “No doubt she is on friendly terms with a great many smugglers.”