A gentleman would not stare at them, even if the hair appeared to have been artfully placed to point in that direction.
“On this floor, my lady, we have the two parlors you have seen, and if we pass through the doorway,” he suited word to action, the folding doors being open, “the dancing floor.” The open doorway was usually sufficient separation between ballroom and parlor, but the doors could be closed if necessary.
Hudson and Lady Thisbe turned, bowed, and turned again on the floor, absorbed in one another. Trouble was brewing there. Allan needed to remind Hudson of what was at stake if he refused to hide with them, or if he insisted on bringing the woman. One more victim for the old man. One more mouth to feed. One more person to leave clues to destroy them all.
“Shall we look at the next room?” Lady Mnema asked. Despite the prompt, she stood relaxed, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, as if she could wait all night for him to move.
“Of course,” he said, and led her to a door in another wall. “Through here, my lady, is the gaming room, and beyond that, the billiard room. Both rooms, and the parlor, open into the dining room.” He took her from room to room. The cashier’s desk was in the corner of the gaming room, currently operated by Ernest, who must have taken over to allow Frank his time with Andromeda.
In the billiard room, a group of ladies were playing a friendly game while one of the club escorts looked on. Allan explained that both escorts and servants were dressed in evening suits with a mask, but the servants wore simple half masks and a black stock rather than a white cravat.
The dining room was set up with buffet tables full of all kinds of delicacies. Supper would be served all night, and the tables would be constantly refreshed.
All this and more, Allan elucidated as they walked around.
“And upstairs?” Lady Mnema asked.
“Madam Hera’s office and parlor, and the library,” Allan said. “Also, several private rooms which ladies can hire by the hour or for a night. Or longer, if they have the money and the will.”
“What happens in those private rooms?” Lady Mnema enquired.
“That depends on the lady and those she invites.” The Golden Adonis was not a brothel. Madam Hera made that clear to allwho needed to know: guests, members, employees, and escorts. “The Golden Adonis takes a fee for rental of the room. It is not concerned with, and nor does it profit from, whatever happens between those inside a room, provided that all parties give their free consent.”
“I have heard,” said Lady Mnema, walking her fingers up his arm, “that some of the male escorts offered intimate services. Would you do so, Lord Apollo, were I to hire a private room?”
