Page 6 of What Happens in Hedone

She would be at home in her family parlor now, playing music at the piano and singing to amuse her guests. Perhaps there was a suitor or lover at her shoulder turning the pages for her. Jay was simply going daft, seeing that smile everywhere. He would never be free of it, and each woman he saw flash that smile at him, he would follow to his doom.

The woman who’d met Jay at the door, the woman in the black veil, appeared in the doorway leading to the hall. “There are refreshments in the dining parlor for any who wish,” she said.

The seated woman who’d shushed Jay rose, fanning herself. “You will have chocolate, Lady Hedone?”

“Especially for you, Lady Lesbos.”

“They were wonderful tonight. Marvelous. I’ve not seen the blonde one before.”

“I can ask if she wishes to meet you.” Their hostess stretched out her hand in invitation, showing the way.

Jay blinked as the wisps of fantasy dissipated, returning him to reality. “Dining parlor?” he inquired in a low voice as the other gentleman rose. The man’s trousers showed a bulge, and he moved stiffly. Jay sympathized.

“She’ll have oysters and buttered parsnips. Plus you can meet the girls.” The other man pushed past him, clearly intent on arriving in the parlor first.

Farren had not mentioned dining, but then he had not said specifically what pleasures he pursued at the club. Jay knew as well as anyone that parsnips and oysters were said to imbue a man with sexual prowess.

And she might be there, the woman who was singer and watcher and Amazon all in one.

His hostess stood in the hallway, smiling as if she could guess Jay’s thoughts. “Dining is another half sovereign, milord Hephaestus.”

He handed it over. Visiting this club was worth a week’s wages for a skilled tradesman, though he was likely the only tradesman here.

She did not yet step away. “They may ask you,” she said. “You may not ask them. They set the location and the terms.”

So it was a brothel, and she the procurer. He’d assumed as much.

“This is not a brothel,” his hostess warned. “Have a care whom you approach. If someone wishes to make an arrangement with you, it is a private transaction. The others will be discreet, and there are places here you might retire. My promise is stimulation and delight. Your satisfaction is your own affair.”

Jay had never heard of a brothel run like this, but then again, he was not a habitué of brothels. His assignations were young widows or the experienced mistresses of selective and respectable men, women who knew their business and were not angling for the title of lady. He knew a gentle girl like his nymph on the beach deserved the highest respect and modest addresses, and a woman who spent her evenings enacting erotic tableaux moved in a world entirely apart. He was accustomed to straddling two worlds, the world of the working man and the world of the elite. He knew how to conduct himself in both.

Jay was sprinkling salt on his second oyster when she arrived.

Her face changed when her gaze lit on him. She turned swiftly to survey the long table that occupied the center of the parlor and its rich assortment of dishes. But the half mask didn’t hide the flash of her eyes and the smile that started across her lips, which she tried to tuck away.

How excessively satisfying it was to be a man who could bring that quick look of interest to a woman’s face.

Jay sauntered slowly around the banquet, which was laid with sumptuous delicacies. All small dishes that could be eaten with the fingers, as there were no tables for seated dining. The scent of chocolate and ambergris hung in the air. Haze drifted from the oil lamps burning in the wall sconces and the two crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling.

This room appeared to be a hub for the house. People wove in and out through several doors, some coming from a parlor dotted with card tables. Harp music spilled from another chamber, and from down the hall drifted the sweet bee-hum of voices in conversation, sprinkled with laughter. The patrons and patronesses of Hedone, pursuing their chosen pleasures.

The other gentleman from the tableau made a beeline for Jay’s goddess. She wore yet the white chiton clasped at the shoulders with her violet shawl crosswise, the ends tucked into her girdle. That lock of hair still grazed her shoulder, teasing skin that Jay longed to touch.

“The dark one. Is she here?” the gentleman demanded.

The goddess paused over a selection of candied violets. “I do not expect Lady Iris to join us, milord.”

The man groaned and wheeled away.

“I am certain he meant to congratulate you on your performance,” Jay said as he approached. “To be sure, he was much moved and entertained.”

His voice came out deeper than usual. He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “Oyster?”

“Thank you.”

Her bare fingers brushed his as she took the rough shell and tipped it to her lips like a cup. He watched the pulse of her throat as she swallowed, and he was glad he stood beside the table so no one else in the room could see the state of his trousers. She set the empty shell aside and gave him that half-smile, her lips glistening with promise.

“Were you much entertained, my lord Hephaestus?”