Page 39 of All Scot and Bothered

Had she spoken out loud?

Alexandra and Francesca drifted further onto the floor empty of people but full of every sort of gambling implement. Tables for dice were stacked next to a gilded roulette wheel. Next to that, card tables for baccarat, faro, and keno sheets were neatly stacked in rows of three, leaving plenty of room for men to make their way to the long oak bar behind which any drink could be served.

The place somehow endeavored to be elegant and garish at the same time, and Cecelia couldn’t wait to get her hands on some of the games. They were mostly about odds and numbers, after all.

Winston, the butler, gathered Francesca’s emerald gloves and parasol, Alexandra’s cream lace cape, and Jean-Yves’s hat, cane, and jacket from limbs gone rather slack with awe.

Thus loaded, he gestured for Cecelia’s own lavenderparasol and matching lace gloves, but she didn’t want to add to the burden, so she declined.

“Thank you, Winston.”

His reply was stiff and diffident, though respectful.

“My, my.” Francesca craned her elegant neck, gawking at the lurid murals on the domed ceiling that would have made even Michelangelo blush. “Well, I never.”

Cecelia tilted her own head back, squinting through her lenses. She hadn’t noted the scandalous fresco during her prior visit. But then, she’d spent most of her time wanting to stare at the marble floor, not the ceiling.

Gasping, she clamped her hand over Phoebe’s wide blue eyes.

Jean-Yves gave the depictions of frolicking and fornicating nudes above him a scarce glance. His attention was arrested by the women of Henrietta’s School for Cultured Young Ladies as they glided down the grand staircase like proper Georgian butterflies.

Cecelia shared an astonished glance with the Rogues.

Did Jean-Yves frequent such places in his free time? He was so dapper, almost respectable in his afternoon suit, despite the craggy, sun-browned features of a man used to hard labor out of doors. His silver hair, now too thin for much pomade, stood out in little tufts without his hat. He smoothed at it self-consciously as a blush spread all the way to his scalp.

The Rogues each looked as though they might giggle… or gag.

The young ladies on the stairs were dressed both congruently and dissimilarly. Their gowns as varying in size and color as the women themselves.

A waifish nymph with straight, shining raven hair wore a pink gown with the front tied above the tops of her stockings and garters secured by two bows, allowing apeek of her smooth, bronze thighs. She could have been an Egyptian princess.

Behind her, a lady twice as large as Cecelia boasted a sleek, floor-length seafoam gown with a bodice that lifted her enormous breasts close to brushing her double chin. The tan crescents of her areolas rose above expensive lace, her nipples threatening to escape with every shiver of her abundant flesh. She gave a come-hither toss of her tumble of gold hair, and flashed a smile that promised boundless generosity.

Cecelia gawked at the women now in her employ.

One even boasted curls as coppery as hers, and… She adjusted her spectacles. Was that an Adam’s apple?

“Miss Cecelia,” Phoebe protested, her little fingers pulling at the hand over her eyes. “I’ve already seen the ceiling.”

Cecelia cringed. What else had the poor girl been exposed to so early? Lord, what kind of guardian was she to bring her back here? What sort of guardian had Henrietta been?

She thought of the missing girls. Girls not much older than Phoebe.

What if this place had something to do with them?

The Lord Chief Justice certainly seemed to think so.

I kissed Ramsay.

She shoved the thought violently aside.

“Bienvenue, honey!” Genny descended from the landing above, gliding down the stairs behind the carnal display, passing each brazen caricature of fantasy.

She rushed to embrace Cecelia and tweak a shy Phoebe under the chin.

Genny slid her dark eyes over Jean-Yves, rendering his pink blush a solid scarlet. “Well, hi there, handsome. I’m Genevieve Leveaux, but you can call me Genny.”

Jean-Yves sputtered for a moment, and Cecelia came to his rescue by making introductions.