Steam & Sorcery (17 page)

The card room was filled with gentleman who didn’t care to dance. Most in here had removed their masks, so Merrick tossed back his hood and stuffed the silk eye mask in his pocket. Smiling negligently, he approached one of the tables, sliding into an empty chair across from an acquaintance.

“Wouldn’t have expected you here,” said Alexander Saunders, the dilettante grandson of a marquis. “Unless you’ve picked up a mistress or a wife. This place is more for the ladies.” He dealt a hand of piquet and named the stakes.

Merrick agreed to the stakes absently and picked up his hand. “House guest—a friend of m’aunt’s,” he grunted as they began to play. “Mother went to school with Dorothy, I think. Anyway, she heard about the place from some other chits in the library, of all bloody places. Had to see what it was all about.”

“Nothing real here, you know.” Saunders took the first trick. “Bunch of silly hocus-pocus to impress the ladies. Couple actors in white face paint with false fangs. Load of horseshit, if you ask me, but the wife likes to come and pretend it’s frightening.”

Merrick took the second trick and offered the other man a cheroot while he tapped the points into the scoring device. With a gesture, he summoned a waiter who refilled Saunders’s drink, at Merrick’s expense. Several tricks later, Saunders was winning by a hair, and beginning to be well lubricated.

“Now the
real
deal is tomorrow night.” He sucked on the cheroot and blew a smoke ring.

Merrick raised one eyebrow. “
Real
thing? Bollocks.”

“No, seriously. Not the kind of place you take your wife, or a family friend, mind you. But if you’ve got a fancy piece tucked away who likes the occult? You wouldn’t believe what goes on at Arcanum.”

“Arcanum? What an original name for a brothel.” Merrick let Saunders win another trick. “Or is it an opium den?”

“Neither, I swear. It’s a club, but with real magick. The owners are all men of power, though they guarantee the games are clean. I tell you, there’s nothing like it. No dancing, just gambling and some private rooms, mind you. If you want to hire a wizard, that’s available there too, as well as potions, powders and other business transactions.”

Merrick shrugged and had the waiter refill the other man’s drink. “Sounds like it might be interesting. Think you can get me an invitation?”

Saunders laughed. “A tenner at the door is the usual invitation. Drinks and food aren’t cheap, and the play is deep.”

“Sounds a hell of a lot better than this place.” Itching to check on Caro, Merrick finished the game, letting Saunders win by a few points. Then he paid the man off and stood. “Thanks for the game, chum. And the information.”

“See you there, eh, mate?” Saunders settled back to count his winnings, a feat made difficult by his state of inebriation. Merrick went back to the ballroom to look for Caro.

There she was, in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with a pallid man in a black domino. His lips were painted bright red and large, pointed canine teeth overhung the lower lip. Caro moved gracefully through the steps of the
Polonaise,
smiling politely up at her partner. Her relative ease told Merrick she knew this was no real undead. As the music wound to an end, he moved to the very edge of the dance floor, catching up with her as her partner led her toward the open French doors to the terrace.

“I believe this dance belongs to me, my lady?”

She giggled. “Of course, Sir Merrick.” With a curtsey and a smile, she waved off her previous partner. “Thank you so much for the dance, dread sir.”

Once they moved onto the dance floor and began to waltz, she muttered under her breath. “He positively stank of rice powder and lip rouge. His eyes were lined with kohl. What utter nonsense.”

“This is as false as I’d suspected,” Merrick confirmed. “As soon as this dance is over, I’d like to leave, if that’s all right with you.”

“We can leave now if you like.”

Her body moved with his as if the two of them were two halves of an intricate machine, designed specifically to fit together in the closest possible way. He couldn’t resist this opportunity to hold her in public. “After the dance.”

In the carriage on the way home, he deliberately sat across from Caro rather than next to her to reduce the possibility of temptation while he told her what he’d learned. “I’ll go tomorrow night and see what I can learn.”

“Of course we will.” She calmly folded her domino and laid it back into its box.

“You will not. This isn’t a place for ladies, Caro. It’s not much better than a brothel from the sound of it.” Merrick laid his domino on top of hers then crossed his arms over his chest, determined not to be swayed.

“So oy won’t be a loydy then, guv.” She did a dead-on imitation of Jamie’s accent. “There were wigs in the attic trunks—and if I dress the part, no one will know I’m not a ladybird.”

“Absolutely not.” Even in the dark, he glared at her.

“I’ll ask Mr. MacKay.” He felt her stare back, heard the toe of her slipper tapping on the floor.

“I’ll lock you in your bedroom.”

“I can pick a lock, you knob. I shan’t be left behind.”

“Be reasonable, Caro. I’m trained for this sort of thing. You’re not.”

“But you’re not invulnerable, are you? You need someone to watch your back. And you already said you can’t trust anyone in your organization.”

“No, but I do have friends at Scotland Yard. I can ask one of them to go as well.” He thought immediately of Liam McCullough, the young werewolf constable. His age and family wealth would make him a prime candidate for that kind of establishment.

“Can either of you go in the women’s retiring room, which is the best place in the world to hear gossip?” Her words were rational, but her tone was pure mulishness.

“No. I’m not going to discuss it any further.”

“We’ll see.” He could just about see her toss her head as they lapsed into silence for the remainder of the trip.

“If you try to send me home, I’ll just follow in a hack.”

Merrick scowled across the carriage. Caroline had been waiting inside when he entered after dinner the following evening. One look at her showed an entirely different appearance than he’d seen before. Gone was the mousy governess or even the elegant young lady. This Caro was a siren in emerald velvet with her waist corseted to an impossibly tiny span, her breasts pushed up invitingly, and her décolletage showing a disturbing amount of flesh. A mass of red curls hid her golden hair, in a disheveled arrangement that left several long corkscrews trailing across her milky shoulders. Kohl, powder and rouge had been applied expertly, altering the shape of her eyes and cheeks, while a black beauty mark made her mouth look wider. Not even Dorothy would recognize her at a glance.

“Where the hell did you get that dress?”

“It turns out Becky is a dab hand with a needle. The gown is an old one of your aunt’s, with some lace added from one of the even older ones in the attic. Wink and Nell did the makeup and hair.”

“I suppose they’ve seen more than one light skirt where they come from.” It was the nearest he was about to come to a compliment. They stared one another down until Merrick sighed in defeat. “Oh, hell. I suppose I’m lucky they didn’t demand to come along as well.”

Caro laughed. “They thought about it. I may have resorted to bribery to keep them at home.”

“Bribery?”

“Ice cream on tomorrow’s outing—which is to be an all-day venture to the British Museum. A trip to the circus sometime in the next few weeks. And an extra hour of free time in the afternoon for the rest of this week.”

“Shame on you for spoiling them.” He laughed himself, though silently.

“We both know they could do with a bit of that. Part of me wants to wrap them in cotton wool, after all they’ve been through, but none of them would put up with that for a moment. It’s remarkable, really, surviving as much as they have. Thinking of Piers in a chimney makes my blood curdle, and I shudder to think what could have happened to Nell as a flower seller.”
Or may have already happened.
The children had by no means divulged all their secrets to either Merrick or Caro.

“Me too.” He cleared his throat. “But enough about that. You’re determined to come along tonight?”

“Utterly.” Her chin set and she crossed her arms under her generous display of bosom.

“Then you will promise not to leave my side, not for a minute. If you need to use the convenience, I will walk with you to the retiring room and wait outside the door. Is that clear?”

She snapped a salute. “Aye, sir.”

“And for God’s sake, be careful not to fall out of that gown.”

It was all he could do not to wrap her in his own coat as they walked up the steps to the house in a less desirable neighborhood than he would have liked. This was a street where a well-to-do merchant might set up a long-term mistress, or an exclusive madam might establish her business.

“I’ll be careful, Merrick. You have my promise.” She pitched her voice so low and sultry, the sound of it went straight to his groin, which was already reacting to her state of dress—or more accurately, undress. It was liable to be a very long night.

Swallowing his trepidation, he slipped the doorman a folded bill and ushered her inside.

The magick hit him as soon as he stepped through the doors. This was like walking into a brick wall, then somehow managing to wade through it, even as it hammered at the senses. Caro must have felt him stagger—she gripped his arm even more tightly.

“Are you all right?” She sniffed and grimaced, probably a little disturbed by the overpowering odor of incense.

“Yes.” Once they were into the foyer, the disturbance lessened. Wards, he thought, designed to keep out anyone with power, except for those the wards were keyed to.

“Welcome to Arcanum.” A gleaming brass automaton butler waited in the center of the foyer and bowed as he spoke in a deep, ringing tone that brought to mind church bells at midnight. “The cloakroom is on your right. To your left is the main parlor, and the card room is behind me on the right. Once you’ve made yourselves comfortable, further enjoyments can be arranged for at the bar in the main parlor. Thank you for visiting Arcanum this evening.”

They obediently deposited their cloaks and umbrellas, with a live servant this time, before moving into the main parlor. It wasn’t terribly crowded—no more than fifteen or twenty people in a room that could have held fifty. It clearly ran the length of the house, with French doors opening into a garden in back. Again, incense and magick hung in the air, making Merrick glad his inborn gifts included immunity to most spells. Next to him, Caro licked her rouged lower lip and breathed heavily.

A long oak bar filled the front of the room, so Merrick headed there first. Wines and liquors lined the shelf behind the bar and a small pasteboard note indicated that food could be arranged upon request. Merrick ordered two glasses of a moderate wine and leaned back against the bar as he surveyed the crowd. On a small dais in one corner was a string trio playing something exotic and haunting.

Caro caused a stir as they walked in. Every male head in the room turned to study her scantily clad form. One started to approach but backed off at Merrick’s glare. He held her close to his side, letting everyone in the place know in no uncertain terms that this beauty belonged to him.

“Two MPs,” he murmured to Caro, letting his hand drift up to the side of her breast rather than staying sedately at her waist as another would-be lothario began to move closer. “And those aren’t their wives.” Both men in question were openly making love in the main parlor to much younger women. A young earl in the far corner was being pleasured by a blonde and a brunette, his trousers hanging open as the brunette knelt between his legs.

“Do people really do that?” Caroline’s breathless tone caught Merrick’s attention even as the barman handed him their drinks. He sampled one, found it undoctored, and handed it to Caro. “She’s licking his…”

“Yes, she is. And yes, he’s most certainly enjoying it.” The lordling’s head was thrown back and the blonde leaned over him, letting him suckle her generous teats.

“Oh, my!” Well, he’d warned Caro she’d be getting an education tonight. “And in public.”

“For some, the idea of being seen makes it all the more exciting.” Merrick had never considered himself a voyeur, but he couldn’t help imagining himself and Caro in some of those poses, which meant he’d gone hard as a brick.

“How odd.” Her face was bright pink, and she fanned herself vigorously. “I think that man’s a banker—he used to visit my old employer, Mr. Wemberly.”

Merrick followed her gaze to where a well-heeled cit bounced a redhead on his lap. Caroline’s breathing was growing shorter and shallower. He didn’t know if she was being affected by what she saw, or…

“Damn it, there’s a sex spell in this room.” Time to get her out of here. He’d forgotten that the sidhe were more susceptible to certain spells than even the average human. While Merrick was safe from the magick, he wasn’t immune to either the visual stimulation going on around him, or to the knowledge of Caro’s arousal. He raised his voice and turned to the barman, who was trying to look down Caro’s dress. “So what are these special services we’re supposed to see you about? Just want to find out what’s available before we make our plans for the evening.”

“Let’s see, private rooms are the most popular,” the man said, ticking things off on his fingers. “With or without special…equipment. We can provide an extra woman—or man, if your tastes swing that way. Meals. Turkish baths. Private meeting rooms for business. Those don’t have the same, well, ahm-bye-ance as in here.” Merrick took that to mean the sex spell was lifted in the business rooms.

“Sounds like a good selection. Come on, dovie, let’s go see the gaming room while we make up our minds.” He tucked his arm through Caro’s and started pulling her toward the door.

“All right.” She moved alongside him, her barely-covered breast rubbing against his upper arm with each step. Based on her little gasps of pleasure, it was probably intentional. Damn, she was enough to tempt a saint—which Merrick certainly wasn’t.