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Three
“My lord, you must take it!” Gates wailed.
“No!”
“Please! It would be unseemly if you didn’t!”
“I. Don’t. Want. It.” Reginald pushed the top hat at Gates and swatted behind him for the door. He glanced at the sprig of mistletoe overhead and wondered why it was over his entryway. The rest of the house was tastefully decorated for the holiday season with strands of garland and holly berry wreaths but Reginald got the feeling that it had been done for the sake of appearances. Despite being luxuriously decorated, the house lacked any real cheer. “I’ll kiss you if you don’t get away from me,” he threatened, sending Gates scrambling back.
“My lord!” He reeled for a moment before his lips pulled tight and Gates charged at Reginald with the hat. “You must take it! It wouldn’t do to go about with your head uncovered.”
“Fine! Give it to me!” Reginald snatched the hat and tucked it under his arm as he stormed out, leaving Gates in utter distress. A footman was waiting by a coach with the Marston crest. He blushed and kept his head down as Reginald climbed inside. “Take me to my club,” he called just before the door was closed. “Dreadful,” he muttered at the dark interior. The tufted leather cushions and the burgundy velvet curtains were obviously top-of-the-line features but Reginald felt like he was traveling in a coffin and grabbed one of the straps as the coach lurched forward.
The ride to Boodle’s took far longer than Reginald would have expected in a town with no cars or city buses but an overturned cart and what appeared to be an entire regiment of troops made an already tedious trip ridiculous.
“Fuck! I should have walked!” He declared as he stepped out with his stupid hat under his arm. He was queasy from being jostled and his back ached. He turned and gave the wheel of his coach a kick. “Get this piece of junk some shocks,” he said and went to greet the doorman. “I say, do I need a password to enter this establishment?”
“My lord?” The man asked as he quickly got the door.
“Never mind,” Reginald said and passed the man his hat.
“I’ll take that!” Another man in gray livery whispered as he ran to get it from the doorman while Reginald was helped out of his overcoat.
“Let’s say this is my first time visiting,” Reginald said as he looked around. The interior was very much like the inside of Reginald’s house but with larger sitting rooms. It was all rather dull as men reclined in silent little islands. Clusters of leather armchairs dotted the rooms and Reginald spotted a dining area through an opened doorway. The tables were set for luncheon and a few of the club’s elderly members were already dining. “Where would I start if I wanted to engage in a lively conversation about current events?” He asked and received several stunned stares in response.
“Lively?” One of the footmen asked quietly and looked at the others for help.
“You might try in there, my lord.” A tall fellow with closely cropped ginger hair suggested as he tipped his head toward the room on his left. “We prefer to keep the dining room and the adjacent areas quiet in order to avoid disturbing our members’ appetites,” he murmured.
“God forbid,” Reginald said under his breath and went to see what he could learn. He wasn’t feeling very optimistic as he strolled past dour, scowling old men who huddled closer to each other or turned their noses up when Reginald gave them a nod.
Then, Reginald spotted him. It was as if the heavens opened and a beam of light shined down upon an armchair in the corner by the fire. He was superbly dressed in dark gray but it was the flashes of pale purple that caught Reginald’s eye and he admired Lavender’s striped vest and the handsome arrangement of his handkerchief. Reginald waited until he looked up from his newspaper to smile and wave but Lavender gave his head a faint shake and promptly ignored him.
Not to be thwarted, Reginald strolled around a leather sofa and a small table so he could sit in the chair across from Lavender’s. A footman with a silver tray materialized at Reginald’s side.
“What can I get for you, my lord?”
“Gin?” Reginald guessed and heard several offended coughs. Boodle’s was famous for its gin but it wouldn’t be fashionable to dive into one’s cups so early in the afternoon. He noted that many of the guests were drinking tea or coffee but Reginald wrinkled his nose. “Gin will be fine.”
Lavender’s paper lowered and his brow was furrowed as he regarded Reginald.
“Is there something I can do for you?” He asked and Reginald gasped in relief.
“I’m so glad you asked! As you can see,” Reginald said as he spread his arms, indicating his heavy wool suit and the altered reality around him. “I’m in a bit of trouble. I need to figure out why I’m here and how to get out.”
“I’m sorry, you thought I was being sincere,” Lavender replied wearily. “I’d try the door if you’re looking for a way out,” he said and hitched his chin at the door suggestively.
“Come on! I’ve only been here for a few hours and it’s already on my last nerve.”
“Here?” Lavender asked. “Your last nerve? What are you on about, Marston?”
“So you do know me! Wonderful. I need your help!”
“No,” Lavender said with another shake of his head and went back to his paper.
“No? You can’t say no!” Reginald didn’t hide how absurd it was. “Do you know how many times I’ve saved your arse? More times than you’ve saved mine. Not that I’m keeping track,” he added, then waved over his shoulder at the coughs that erupted around the room behind him. “Suck it, you dry, old cunts,” he said, making Lavender’s eyes widen.
“My lord,” the footman whispered as he reappeared with a glass on his tray.
