“I shall need to speak with my two friends to confirm,” Mel told him. “I shall return tomorrow night, if that is acceptable.” And tomorrow, she would ask the brothers if she could tell Clemmie and Chris a little bit about the marquess, for the couple had contacts from the highest of high Society to the lowest of the slums, and at every level in between.Surely, they will have information of use to us?
“I must say goodnight to the pair of you. Would you be able to send a footman to call me a hackney?” she asked.
“I’ll do better,” said Chris. “One of our carriages can take you. What is your destination, Mrs. Blackmore?”
“The Golden Adonis in Southwark,” Mel told him, watching closely to see how he reacted. Had he heard of the club? Did he know of its reputation?
From their previous interactions, she did not expect him to come over all moralistic and protective, and ban her from the house to keep her from contaminating his wife. His reaction did surprise her, however.
“The Adonis? Say hello to Madam Hera for me. She is one of the ladies who raised me.”
What a lucky chance! Though Chris Satterthwaite was closely related to two earls, he had been raised in the slums—byprostitutes at the behest of a gambling den owner, or so rumor said. She had not thought he might know Madam Hera, though.
“Mr. Satterthwaite,” Mel said, “what if I wanted Madam Hera to help me find incriminating evidence about a wicked man who is using his power and wealth to terrorize and imprison his own family? Do you think she would be open to that?”
“You would have to ask her,” Chris replied. “I cannot speak for her. I can tell you that she values honesty and loyalty. Ladies in her profession see so little of it. You can trust her, Mel. She appreciates strong independent women, and has a very low opinion of men, with few exceptions. Indeed, that is why, when Ramping Billy retired and gave her ownership of her own house, she sold it and started The Golden Adonis.”
Ramping Billy had been the power in the slums who had rescued Chris as a child. He had disappeared eighteen months ago. Dead, said some, but if Chris said retired, he probably knew.
“Thank you,” she said. “I shall keep that in mind.”
*
They had theirargument in the antechamber of the Golden Adonis after all the guests had left, except for those few who were most closely involved.
It was Allan against his brothers.
“It makes sense,” Cornelius insisted. “You said yourself that my marriage means the marquess cannot force me into a match that suits him. If it applies to me, it applies to Baldwin, Donald, Ernest, Frank and Hudson. Gerard is well on the way to finding a bride, and you should, too.”
“I’m marrying Clara,” Baldwin said. “You have no say in it, Allan.”
Allan couldn’t believe his ears. “Marriage is a lifetime commitment, and you’re talking about using it just to stop ourfather? With some lady who frequents a place like the Golden Adonis? Who has been using you for a cheap thrill?”
“Watch your tongue or I’ll shut your mouth for you,” Baldwin snapped. “Clara and I love each other. Yes, and the same goes for the rest of us.”
“Our ladies might be unconventional,” said Frank, “but that is the very reason they suit us. Allan, we might be rushing things to take away one of the threats against us, but we have all been courting our ladies. This is where we were heading anyway, but we believed it to be hopeless, since we were leaving.”
“That’s right,” Donald agreed. “Then yesterday, Mrs. Blackmore started talking about marriage protecting Cornelius, and about staying in London. Verity and I have been seeing one another for nearly a year, and she has stood by me even though I told her about the marquess, and about having to leave. Then, tonight, when she heard we might stay, she said she would marry me right away. Today, if possible. I am going to the Bishop of London to ask for a license whether the others do or not.”
“It is the same for me and Rosina,” said Ernest. Rosina was Thalia, but apparently, she was also the daughter of a country gentleman who had been working to look after her sick mother. There was no mismatch between her and Ernest. Allan couldn’t use that as an excuse.
“And for me and Parthena,” Hudson insisted. “Be happy for us, Allan. We have grown to know our ladies over the last few months. We have chosen them, and they have chosen us.”
Allan clenched his fist, and Mrs. Blackmore slid a hand into his elbow and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I imagine your brothers have spent more time with their chosen brides than I did with my louse of a husband,” she said to him, thoughtfully.
Whether it was her touch or her words, the black edges of his temper receded and he began to think clearly again. And she wasn’t wrong. He had danced with Alberta three times and satbeside her at dinner once—the sum total of their interactions until they met in front of the altar.
In recent months, his brothers had been spending hours seven nights of most weeks with the women they wanted to wed. “You are determined on this?” he asked, addressing the question to the five of them.
They chorused various versions of “yes” and “I am”, and Allan nodded.
“Then go and see the bishop. I wish you all well. Please let me know the times of the weddings, so I can come to witness.”
They lined up to shake his hand, and Ernest even gave him a hug.
The ladies his brothers wanted to wed were all waiting on the other side of the room. Three of them had carriages here, which between them would convey the party to the residence of the Bishop of London to purchase a common license per couple.
As they filed out of the club, Madam Hera emerged from the parlor. “Apollo, a word, please.” She had removed her mask, but her expression was another concealment—an implacable facade that gave nothing away.
