Page 15

He moved quietly across the grounds, keeping to the deep cover cast by tall, fancifully trimmed greenery. It took him a moment to realize that the hedges were all clipped to form erotic green statues.

Moonlight and the colorful lanterns illuminated the fog with an eerie radiance that rendered the couples he passed into ghostly silhouettes. On the far side of the grounds the great house glowed in the mist, a forbidding castle in a dark fairy tale.

He took care to stay out of the way of guests strolling the gardens but as he drew closer to the mansion it became increasingly difficult to remain unseen.

Not that any of the male guests appeared to be focused on anyone other than their female companions, all of whom were remarkably attractive and extremely well endowed.

It soon became obvious that only the men were inebriated. The women laughed and teased and flirted in a practiced manner.

He knew acting when he saw it, Slater thought. The women were all professional courtesans—very expensive-looking courtesans, to be sure. Their gowns were elegant and in the latest fashion.

When he passed near the maze he heard giggles and drunken laughter inside. There were other noises as well—the primal grunts and hoarse groans of men caught up in the throes of lust. The interior of the maze sounded like the upper floors of a bordello.

Slater continued toward the house, stopping a few yards from the lantern-lit terrace.

The French doors of a dimly lit ballroom stood open to the night.

Inside couples danced and flirted in the disorienting light cast by lanterns encased in shades that were incised with various cutouts.

The lamps dangled from wires in the ceiling, shifting, bobbing and rotating in a way that created ever-changing patterns of light and shadow over the crowd.

Slater considered his options. The guests and their courtesans were all attired in a fashionable, formal manner.

He had dressed for an evening of discreet observation, not a soiree.

He could not risk entering the ballroom.

The coat and cap would draw immediate attention.

Even if he were to remove them the risk remained.

He had spent most of the past ten years away from London and he had not gone out into Society since his return but there were still some who might recognize him even in a darkened room.

On a night when so many guests were being entertained in such a lavish manner there were sure to be a large number of servants bustling about in the vicinity of the kitchen.

The rear doors and the tradesmen’s entrance would be open to allow the cool night air into a room that was bound to be overheated with cooking fires.

He made his way along the side of the house that faced the gardens, heading toward the far end where he assumed the kitchens would be located.

Within a few yards he found himself in a section that was obviously not intended for the guests. There were no pretty lanterns in the vicinity but there was enough light from the windows and the moonlight-infused fog to allow him to forge a path through the foliage.

He was nearly at his goal when he heard a woman on the other side of a hedge. She was hoarse with anger and a rising tide of panic but she did not raise her voice. Her accent was that of a respectable lady trying desperately to maintain her composure.

“You’re hurting me, sir. Please let me go. There are rules.”

“The rules don’t apply to the guests. You’re a whore and what’s more, you’re my whore, at least for tonight. I certainly paid enough for you.”

The man’s voice was thickened with drink. Rage seethed just beneath the surface.

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll scream,” the woman warned.

But she kept her tone low and something in it told Slater that she did not dare to shout for help.

“You stupid bitch,” the man snarled. “You know as well as I do that if you start yelling you’ll find yourself on the street. You’ll be taking your customers up against the wall in some filthy alley before you know it. Or maybe you’ll end up in the river like your friend a couple of weeks back, eh?”

The observation was punctuated by a bark of harsh laughter.

“Wouldn’t you care for another dance?” the woman asked, trying to sound flirtatious.

“I’ve had enough of dancing. Shut up. We’re going to get into my carriage and you will do exactly what I tell you.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t. None of the women from the Pavilion can leave the grounds. You know that, sir. The rules—”

“Don’t quote the damn rules to me. You may look and sound like a lady but we both know you’re just a cheap whore.”

“I’m going back into the ballroom,” the woman declared with shaky conviction. “ No , you can’t force me to leave the... mmph .”

Slater was quite certain that the man had slapped a hand over the woman’s mouth.

“I’ll teach you to defy me,” the drunken man raged.

Slater moved out from behind the cover of a hedge and saw the pair. They were dark shadows in the fog. The man was struggling to control the woman. He had an arm around her throat, choking her. She fought desperately but it was clear she was overpowered.

Neither of the two noticed him until he gripped the assailant’s shoulder.

“Let her go,” Slater said quietly.

The attacker was so startled he released the woman and whirled around. He stared into the glary light, trying to see Slater’s face but that was not possible. Slater was careful to keep his back to the light, leaving his features in deep shadow.

“Leave us,” the attacker hissed. “She’s mine. Go find yourself another whore. I’ve got plans for this one.”

“She’s not interested in your plans,” Slater said.

“You can’t have her.” The man peered at him, trying to see more clearly in the dim light. “Are you one of the bloody guards? If so, you can take yourself off immediately. This does not concern you.”

“I’m afraid you are mistaken.”

The assailant swung one fist in a wild, awkward fashion. Slater easily ducked the blow and came back with a short, hard punch to the gut. He followed it with a quick chopping blow against the side of the man’s head.

The drunkard collapsed, unconscious, on the lawn.

Slater looked at the woman. She watched him warily.

“Thank you,” she said. She sounded grateful but very cautious. “He wanted me to violate the rules. He was trying to take me away in a private carriage. We are not supposed to leave the grounds with any of the guests, as I’m sure you are aware. Mrs. Wyatt is very firm on that point.”

Slater nodded and walked to look down at the unconscious man.

“Who is he?”

“His name is Hurst,” the woman said. She hesitated. “You’re not one of the guests, are you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Because I’m not dressed appropriately?”

“That and the fact that you’re not acting as if you’ve drunk any of the ambrosia this evening. Who are you?”

“A curious spectator.”

“Curiosity can be dangerous here at the Olympus Club.”

“Is that what they call this place?” Slater asked.

“You didn’t know that?”

“I do now. May I ask your name?”

The woman hesitated. “I suppose you have a right to it after what you just did for me. You may call me Evangeline.”

He smiled a little. Everyone kept secrets, he thought. A professional courtesan would almost certainly have a few.

“I assume that Evangeline is your stage name?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, silently defying him to demand more.

“It is a pretty name,” he said. “Was Hurst drunk on that ambrosia you mentioned?”

“Of course,” she said. She waved one gloved hand to indicate the vast gardens.

“They all are. The guests enjoy the drug in various forms. It is added to the liquor. Sometimes they smoke it in the form of cigars. The Olympus is the only place in London where it is served, you see. For the most part the ambrosia invigorates the men to the point where all they can think about is finding a female—willing or unwilling. If they take a sufficient quantity they usually enjoy wondrous visions and a great sense of pleasure. But sometimes the hallucinations can be quite intense and frightening.” She glanced at the unmoving man on the ground.

“And occasionally the drug affects men the way it did Hurst tonight.”

“The ambrosia makes some of the men violent?”

“Yes.” Evangeline peered at Slater, trying to see him against the glare of the light behind him.

“You likely saved me from a beating or worse.” There was a shudder in her voice.

“Hurst was behaving very oddly. He is normally a quiet little man but tonight he flew into a rage. Perhaps he took too much of the drug. Some of the other Nymphs have reported similar reactions when their guests overindulged.” She paused.

“I should not be speaking with you like this. We are only allowed to talk to men who have been introduced to us by Mrs. Wyatt.”

“I understand. Thank you for answering a few of my questions.”

“Thank you for saving me from Hurst.” Evangeline made a face. “I really don’t know what got into him tonight. There are rumors that the management of the club has brought in a stronger version of the ambrosia recently.”

She turned to walk back toward the ballroom.

“One more question before you go,” Slater said softly.

She paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “Very well, but please be quick about it.”

“Your friend, the one who wound up in the river—”

Evangeline went very still. “Nicole. They said she took her own life.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you? What do you think happened?”

“We’re all quite certain that she broke the rules and left the grounds with a man who went mad after he took too much of the drug.”

“You think her guest murdered her?”

“I cannot say, sir. But as I told you, everyone knows that some of the guests can take odd turns when they’re enjoying the drug. That’s why there are rules and guards. But as you saw tonight, the bloody guards are never around when you need them.”

“What exactly is this ambrosia? Some version of opium?”

“I cannot say, sir. The Nymphs are forbidden to drink it.”

Once again Evangeline collected her satin skirts and turned to leave.

“Are you concerned that Hurst will make trouble for you when he awakens?” Slater asked.

Evangeline’s light laughter whispered in the fog. “It’s unlikely he’ll remember much of what happened, sir, not given the large dose of the drug that he evidently took. But if he does, I expect that it is you who will have left an impression on him.”

She hurried away and soon disappeared behind the hedge.