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“I must go, unless you need my assistance?” Bellamy retrieved the tray, and Galen shook his head, the adrenaline rushing through his veins raising his spirits. “Very well, then. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Galen looked out the window again, feeling he’d lost so much time. He still felt weak and tired, but the chatter down the hall drew his attention again, and he couldn’t help himself—he wandered in that direction, making sure to take his time.
Chapter 4
Once out of the room, he ambled down the empty hallway, past closed doors, until the voices grew louder. Afraid he might be found out, he slipped behind a partly opened doorway he now realized was the kitchens.
He heard a gasp, and turned and saw Miss Celestine standing near a tray of biscuits and meringues. That explained the dusting of flour on Bellamy’s nose, whereas Miss Celestine looked a bit less worse for wear.
“Please don’t give me away. I grew bored of resting and could not help my curiosity.”
“Well”—she glanced worriedly toward the doorway—“they are finished with their tea and cakes and will be moving toward the vestibule now.”
“Can I peek?” he asked sheepishly. “I promise not to make a sound, and if I get in trouble, I shall never implicate you.”
She sighed, but a small grin lit up her pretty face. “Very well, but only for a minute. Soon Bellamy will return from the errand Madam sent him on downstairs.”
Galen was drawn to Madam Langley’s clipped tenor outside the doors. “Come now, lads. Hurry along.” When he peered through the sliver of doorway, he saw a row of young men standing straight and at attention. They all wore only white undergarments—cotton drawers and a shirt—and though the fabric extended to their knees and wrists, it was thin and outlined portions of their torso and lower body not normally seen when under layers of waistcoats and breeches or even their nightshirts. It made Galen flush, but…that was the point, he supposed.
The young men were barefoot, and each wore a single white flower behind their ear, which made Galen’s stomach dip funnily. They looked pretty—like fine porcelain—and a bit sultry.
Some fidgeted more than others, and as his eyes perused the line, they were first drawn to the twins, who were holding hands as if in solidarity. His gaze swept over the lad whose tone had sounded dramatic earlier in the day, and then over to another fellow, who looked bored or perhaps resigned. Three others beside him seemed tense. Was it nerves about being chosen, given their plainer looks, or just masked eagerness?
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye—wasn’t that the saying? Which led him to Azriel, who made his breath catch in his throat. He stood poker straight, and the outline of his form showed how lean his muscles were. Galen could barely restrain his gaze from flitting down the front of him, and he felt guilty for doing so.
“What flower is that?” Galen whispered. “Behind their ears?”
“A moon flower,” Miss Celestine said.
He was unfamiliar with the large white blossom that spread open in a trumpet shape. “What is the significance?”
“Madam Langley says it has many uses. She sent Bellamy below to gather more of its dried leaves. She uses it in her concoctions.” She lowered her voice. “And it only blooms at night.”
As the meaning slowly registered, he bit back a gasp. It only blooms at night.
Much like this establishment.
Soon a group of gentlemen of varying ages and statures joined the lads, wearing their best evening attire—Galen noted brocade, floral, and more sedate waistcoats, some in finer threads than others. Two of the older gentlemen drifted off to the side, heads bent together, obviously knowing one another intimately from prior assignations.
He’d only ever experienced fast and mostly frenzied interactions that barely involved any touching, so to see the men standing so close, noses rubbing against whiskers, made his heart beat frantically as he watched.
He remembered Madam Langley’s words from earlier: “Gentlemen come here to…rent a room. Either with someone they have a prior arrangement with, or to spend time with one of our residents.”
He supposed it made sense in Lunar’s Reach, since it was considered one of the more modern towns linked to the new steam railway system in Etria. The train was more efficient than a stagecoach for longer journeys, and for now only the most upper crust in society could afford to buy a ticket.
Galen had always been curious about the trains, and they turned out to be just as shiny and contemporary as he’d pictured. Perhaps one day…
“What happens next?” he asked Miss Celestine, his pulse picking up.
“If a gentleman wants to pay for a night of service, he takes the flower of the lad he’s interested in spending time with.”
And then he saw it, how the gentlemen approached the fellows and reached for their flowers, and that apparently meant they would be occupied for the evening. He couldn’t even imagine…
