2. June 18, 1822

2

JUNE 18, 1822

GOODRUM’S HOUSE OF PLEASURE

N o.9 Duke St., London

Margot and Gabrielle turned their heads as one to watch Germaine leave the room before Margot observed, “She likes to get to the point, although I must apologize for her blunt language.”

“She’s right, you know.” Gabrielle hung her head. “I’m here because I wanted more of life. I was tired of being a prisoner in my brother’s musty mansion in Surrey.” She raised her head and leveled a clear blue gaze at Margot. “He’s away on a long trading voyage for the East India Company. He treats me like one of his precious blue and white vases he collects from China.”

After a long silence, Margot picked up the silver teapot and poured two cups. She handed one to Gabrielle and took a sip from her own before giving Gabrielle an expectant look.

Finally, she exhaled a huge sigh. “I’m Gabrielle Tamaryn…and no one will know I’m gone for another four years, when my brother returns from his latest trip.”

“How is that possible?”

“I told the servants I was going to meet my brother at the docks and accompany him on this trip. They had no reason to disbelieve me. Jameson arranges in advance of his trips for all of the house accounts and servants to be paid whilst he’s gone.

“I’d saved all my pin money for the last two years to secure rooms in Mayfair where I’ve been living on whatever lies I could fabricate to convince the people I’ve met that I’m an independent widow.”

“And the disaster at P-W’s party?”

“I began posing for artists, and then the invitations started to arrive…all sorts of parties. I, um, sort of lost my way.”

Margot placed one of her hands lightly over Gabrielle’s. “You’re safe here, Gabrielle. My name is Margot Fauchette. I used to work for Goodrum’s House of Pleasure. Captain Eleanor Goodrum, the proprietor, is an old friend. We can trust her with our lives, but I’m afraid your days of accepting party invitations may be over for awhile. We can’t be certain the Runners won’t still be looking for you even if Captain El can find the opium procurer.

“You and I are going to have to live quietly, and safely, out of the public eye indefinitely.”

Margot took Gabrielle to Captain El’s office to meet her mentor properly, whilst the young woman was not under the influence of opium.

Today, Captain Eleanor Goodrum sat with her booted feet propped up on her desk, a rich plum-colored wool redingote cascading over her knee-high boots. Margot got the impression Captain El was ready to depart on another journey aboard her ship, the Lady Muirgen .

When she sneaked a look out the side windows, she saw the large carriage with Captain El’s right-hand man, Obadiah, on the coachman’s seat. Instead of a coat of arms, the doors of the carriage bore the same image engraved on the elegant business cards of Goodrum’s House of Pleasure. The skull and crossbones were cleverly worked into an elaborate gilded, hand-painted illustration including all the treasures of the sea: intricate nautilus shells, conch shells, seahorses, fronds of seaweed, and rolling waves topped by bubbling froth.

After Margot made her introductions, Captain El came to the point. She banged her feet back to the floor and leaned forward. Whilst pointing an elegant finger at Gabrielle, she gave a raw warning that frankly unsettled even Margot.

“Miss Tamaryn, I have intervened on your behalf with my, um, connections within the Bow Street Runners. The gentleman who has been supplying the opium which you and the unfortunate young lord apparently consumed at the Ponsley-Wells party has been offered up in your place as the guilty party.” She paused for several long minutes during which she never wavered in her intense regard toward Gabrielle. “If you are ever involved in such excesses again in public, I will personally see to it you are turned over to the Runners myself.” She paused again. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes.” Gabrielle’s voice wavered.

“I don’t think I heard you…”

“Yes,” she repeated, in clear tones. “Am I free to leave now?”

Captain El’s gaze barely flickered. “Of course you’re free to leave.” She settled back into her chair and gave Gabrielle a speculative gaze. “But I think you should know the man who’s being prosecuted in your place has friends in very low places amongst the gangs along the Thames. They would of course see you as responsible for their leader landing in gaol.”

She rose and picked up a large portmanteau behind her desk, signaling the interview was over. “You are free to do whatever you like with your life. I wish you well. However, there’s a young woman who works here for me as our chess mistress. She’s extremely lonely and hates going home to her empty house in St. John’s Wood. I’d highly recommend the two of you stay there with her for a while until this whole episode has blown over. My accountant will give you directions.”

And with that she exited the door toward the steps leading down to her awaiting carriage in the mews, her boots echoing on the winding stone steps.

Gabrielle turned to Margot, a mix of fear and defiance on her face. “Did she mean what she said?”

Margot shook her head sadly. “Captain El always means what she says. Very few people in London would cross her. I certainly wouldn’t, but of course, the choice is still yours.”

Tuesday, November 7, 1826

No.5 Grosvenor St., London

Margot dribbled expensive claret wine across Gabrielle’s shoulder, licking each drop away as soon as it rolled down onto one of her perfect breasts, darkening the already rosy, aroused nipples. She licked the wine away before any drops could reach the fine linen sheets Germaine kept as blindingly white as the day they’d come to live in the elegant townhouse. The Earl of Framlingwood had gifted Margot the Grosvenor Street abode when she’d become his fifth mistress the previous June.

Gabrielle had moved in with her under the title of lady’s maid, even though she was the poorest excuse for a servant Margot had ever endured. The faithful Germaine had come along to serve as house maid and a sometime coachman when they wanted to keep their adventures a secret from the ever-vigilant Rutherfords.

Young Rutherford did double duty as butler and footman, interspersed with his endless supply of brothers. Margot supposed he’d been assigned to her because Mrs. Collins suspected she was the only mistress who would not be susceptible to the young man’s charms. Young Rutherford was a walking, talking tower of desire without seeming to realize he was an unsafe magnet for unsuspecting females.

She often worried about poor Molly, their traveling house maid who variously served all five of the mistresses’ households. The young woman seemed to have an endless appetite for the Rutherfords, and as far as Margot could see, didn’t have a favorite amongst them, including the head of the gang, their father, Toplofty. Honestly, Margot wondered at how she had time to clean and freshen their fireplaces in the midst of her multiple trysts throughout the week. She hoped the poor thing rested on her half day.

Gabrielle looked up at her from beneath thick golden lashes and propped herself up on her elbows. “Did I give you permission to lick my claret?”

Margot felt a flush moving from her bared neck all the way down to her quim. “I’m so sorry,” she finally apologized in a breathy rush.

“I suppose I’ll have to punish you now.” Gabrielle slung a long, lithe leg over Margot and mounted her in one smooth motion.

Margot’s breath stuck in her throat, and she nearly stopped breathing when Gabrielle’s probing fingers moved stealthily toward her throbbing quim.

Just as Margot squirmed in a pleading move, Gabrielle moved barely to the edge of pressure on her mound that always drove her crazy. Gabrielle thrust two fingers and then three into her slit before curving her fingers back in a thrusting motion that never failed to make Margot fall apart in waves of heated pleasure.

After the first wave subsided, Margot sucked in a breath and spread apart Gabrielle’s pink folds before circling her thumb round and round the pearl-like nubbin, a move calculated to bring her lover to completion after a long love-making session.

Gabrielle suddenly rose to her knees and wrapped Margot’s legs around her shoulders. From there she knelt and licked her opening. Margo moaned and bucked against her mouth. Her release, when it came, elicited a long scream.

They both lay panting in the midst of the ravaged sheets when there was wild pounding at the door to the bed chamber.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Young Rutherford . When Margot rose as if to go reassure him no one was being murdered, Gabrielle leapt from the bed ahead of her with a sheet wrapped around her and danced toward the door.

Margot grabbed her dressing gown and tried to head her off, but too late. Their randy under-butler stood toe-to-toe with Gabrielle, peering around her shoulder to make sure all was well.

The look on his face was all business for a change. He didn’t even have the good grace to blush. “Just checking to make sure no one’s been murdered in their bed, Miss Fauchette.”

He turned to leave, but then came back. “You do remember what day it is…right?”

“Yes,” Margot assured him. “But he’ll be having tea with Mrs. Collins for hours yet. We have plenty of time.”

Gabrielle leaned closer to him, as if she weren’t in total deshabille. “What do you think, Young R?”

“About what, Miss?”

“You know…” She made a rude gesture of ramming her forefinger into the circle made of her opposite finger and thumb. “Are they or aren’t they?” Of course, she ignored the problem of hanging onto the sheet, causing it to pool around her feet.

“I wouldn’t know, Miss,” he shot right back, deliberately averting his gaze. He turned toward Margot. “Anything else you require before His Mightiness makes his appearance tonight? Supper maybe? Wine?”

“Nothing, Rutherford,” Margot intoned firmly, and shut the door hard in his face. “Overweening bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

“But he does have a fine bum and probably a fancy tool to go with it.” Gabrielle’s tone intimated she was trying to push Margot into a jealous quarrel. She refused to take the bait.

“Do you want me to call him back? I’m sure he’d be happy to take care of your needs whilst I’m with the earl tonight.”

Gabrielle took on a mulish look and threw a pillow at Margot. They fell back into bed for another hour.