Page 78 of In Compromise with the Earl
“Oh,” Leo nodded. “Well, I’m sure you and yourequallybrilliant steward will get ahead of it. Good evening, Oswald.”
With a distracted nod, Oswald reached out for a book and pretended to look over the figures, and only reached for the card again when he was sure Leo was gone.
He knew the first step in solving this mystery threat—he had to go to the Cytheria and speak with the Madam.
* * *
If one did not know that the Cytheria was the most exclusive whorehouse in London, they would never suspect it walking through the doors.
Known mostly for its discretion and lesser for its depravity, Oswald had chosen it as a place mostly to block the worries of the world outside from his mind. How the doxies had indulged his sinful appetites was another matter.
Tall Corinthian-capped columns gave way to a pink marble atrium and Aubusson carpeted hallways. There were no erotic portraits on the wall, no lewd statues or moldings on the ceiling. There was no indication of the carnality that went on in the rooms above or in the dungeon where the constant sound of flesh smacking on flesh never left the air.
As he walked in, he belatedly realized that the island the Cytheria was named after, Kythera of Greece, wasthe idyllic birthplace of Aphrodite, the goddess of love.
God forbid his Aphrodite knew about this place.
A footman met him, dressed only in a thin toga. “May I help you, My Lord?”
“I need to speak with Madam,” he said curtly.
“She in the dungeons supervising a performance, My Lord. Shall I show you—”
“No need, I know the way,” Oswald said, then turned.Performance—he scoffed—fancy word for an orgy.
He took a corridor, veered left and took a winding staircase down to the bottom level. The dungeon was bisected in two, one half with separate rooms and the other half, one extensive room with a floor padded with blankets, silk pillows and sheet like a proper harem.
Indulgent moans and pleasure cries met his senses as he found the Madam standing impassive on a podium across from the sensual scene.
“Lord Tennesley,” she said. “Welcome back. How may I help you?”
Oswald came to her side but before asking his question, gazed over at the scene. A buxom blond, placed on all four, was lowering her mouth to a turgid phallus while a man grasped her hips and thrust into her, another woman was pressed on the wall and her partner’s hips flexed as he took her as well. His eyes cast uninterestedly as a woman sat on a man’s face grinding her hips and rubbing as her mouth was filled a thick member.
“Who among you is planning to blackmail me?” he asked directly.
She turned to him, “Everyone in my employ knows the devastating consequences that comes using anything that happens here against any of my clients.”
“Well, I yesterday I received a note saying, ‘I know your dirty secrets’,” Oswald said. “And that can only mean someone who here is planning something. In case you are not aware, I am married, and the worst thing I would ever want is for this part of my life to be exposed.”
“It seems to me that the best course might be to tell your wife,” the Madam replied.
“I do not want her to know anything,” he said. “I suggest that you find out who is doing this and stop it.” A cry of completion came from a woman and Oswald did not even look. “Send me word when you fetter this mole out. That’s all.”
He tipped his head and made his way out of the dungeon, and out of the building. He stepped into the fresh air and sucked in a breath that was not the musky cloak of sex.
He called his carriage and while waiting for it was coming, considered going back home, but decided to go to White’s instead. His second suspicion was that if the bawdy house was not the origin of the leak, Duke Strathmore would be the culprit.
Rubbing his face, he prayed that something good would happen, that the perpetrator would be found, this problem would be stopped before it went anywhere, and he could live a peaceful life.
* * *
Aphrodite found herself back in the garden again, with Biscuit nipping her heels. She found a place in the gazebo and made sure to not throw the pup’s knitted ball too hard so he wouldn’t have to run far.
Oswald had been gone all day since dawn and it was nearly dusk. She didn’t mind but the memories of when her father would be absent for what felt like days on end were fresh in her mind.
“I only wish he could be here to see the progress his mother and I are making,” she said forlornly to the air.
The pup came back with the ball and dropped it at her feet, waiting for her to throw it again. She took the ball and fingered it a for a moment, feeling a bit bereft.
