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“We are not to go out unless it’s a necessity, and even then, you are to cover your faces with your neckcloths and avoid getting too close to strangers, in case someone has the rash or cough.”
“How dreadful,” Edward said, looking glum, and they could all guess why that was.
“We’ve been preparing for weeks, and hopefully with some luck, we’ll concoct something powerful enough to help.”
Galen knew they were still missing the key ingredient, but even then, they were not certain it would yield the desired results.
So they kept themselves busy, but even still, that first night without the gentlemen felt strange. And a little pitiful, in that they always lent the establishment some liveliness to break up their days. Galen welcomed the reprieve, but some of the others, like Oscar and Francis, typically enjoyed themselves immensely. Galen wondered how long it would take before they began amusing themselves with stolen moments behind closed doors.
And who could blame them? He’d had a night with Azriel that he would never forget. Not that any of these men were a love match, or fated, like the twins were. More that as virile young lads, they had needs and were perfectly within their rights to fulfill them.
The following evening, they were set to play a game of charades in the sitting room, when there was loud banging on the door below.
“Whoever could that be?” Madam Langley said. Few knew of the side entrance that was used mainly by the footman, on their evenings with the gentlemen. “Certainly not Azriel.” He would’ve used the staircase from the apothecary upon his return.
Azriel had been sent to Enchantment on an errand late in the day—though they’d made sure to hold supper for him—and Galen had been anxiously awaiting his return. He found that he missed him even when separated for a few hours…
“Perhaps it’s a gentleman caller,” Oscar said with some excitement, and winked at Edward, whose ears turned pink.
“Stop teasing the poor lad and go inquire who’s at the door,” Madam Langley scolded him. She waited at the top of the stairs as Oscar went down to answer the door.
Galen heard a stern voice, and when Oscar returned, his face was reddened, concern crinkling his forehead. “Madam Langley, our visitor is—”
“What is the meaning of this?” the constable groused as he pushed by Oscar and came bustling into the room. “You’ve sent your footman away?”
“His services were not required this evening,” Madam Langley replied, visibly exasperated. “You must not have heard the news. We have closed our establishment for the foreseeable future. Due to the illness spreading.”
He waved her off as if a deadly sickness was nothing of concern, and that was when Galen observed he was in a similar state as on his last visit, his eyes bloodshot, possibly from too many spirits.
“Then I suppose I have the place all to myself.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, folding her arms across her bosom. She was not dressed in her usual evening attire for greeting the gentlemen; none of them were. But the constable didn’t seem to notice nor care, pushing farther inside the room and having a look around at everyone in attendance. His gaze landed on Galen, then continued searching, no doubt for Azriel, and Galen was suddenly grateful he’d been delayed by his errand.
The constable cleared his throat. “I was not able to properly enjoy the evening when I last attended, and I have returned to…see it through.”
“From what I witnessed, you saw it through very well,” Madam Langley said, and to Galen’s surprise, the constable appeared flustered, which was in direct opposition to his normal arrogance.
But it did not last long, his bravado returning in a flash as he narrowed his eyes. “I still think there was trickery involved, and if the same happens tonight, your doors may close for good. Do not cross me, woman.”
Galen’s gut churned, and the others stood silent, concern in their gazes.
Madam Langley’s aura turned a dark swirling green with threads of red running through it. “Very well.” Her tone was strained as she clearly tried to contain her fury. “Allow the lads to prepare for the evening while I serve you some tea. Let’s take your hat and coat so you’ll be comfortable while you wait.”
“I will take some tea, but in the room. Send Azriel to me immediately.”
Galen’s pulse roared in his ears.
“Azriel is off on an errand, and I don’t know when he might return. Perhaps another night might suit—”
“Nonsense. I shall wait for him while another services me,” he said, his gaze landing on Galen.
“I would be happy to help you while you wait,” Bellamy said coquettishly, but Galen could hear the tension underneath.
The constable waved him away. “This evening my tastes are more singular.”
Bellamy might’ve felt rebuffed if it were anyone other than the constable—who had an obvious score to settle with Azriel, that much was certain. And Galen thought it was purely for sadistic reasons.
