Lord Libertine. Gail Ranstrom

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СКАЧАТЬ yes. I suppose you must. And then move on to the other Hunter brothers? And Lord Humphries?”

      “Eventually,” she admitted. “If I do not find the murderer first.”

      “But tonight?”

      She swept up her cloak and turned toward the door. “Tonight I am not likely to see them. Remember, I am going where scoundrels and rakes go.”

      Andrew leaned over Charlie’s shoulder. “Seen enough?”

      “We’ve only just begun. Do you suppose it is all like this?”

      “I haven’t a single notion, Charlie. This is my first visit, as well.” When they had arrived at Bethlehem Hospital and paid the keeper for entry, Andrew hadn’t known what to expect, though he gathered he would not find it entertaining. Thus far he’d been right.

      They’d been led past cells where unfortunates were either cowering in corners or reciting nonsensical words in singsong voices. Here a man played in his own filth, and there a woman exposed her breasts and cackled. Yet another man screamed and shouted curses, pounding the door separating patients from visitors. And everywhere the odor of unwashed bodies and rancid food assailed them.

      The keeper, their guide, told stories of how this one had been abandoned by a lover, or that one had lost his entire family in a fire and had fallen into deep melancholy. But how, Andrew wondered again, could such misery be entertaining? Was it all just a matter of taste?

      As much as he wanted to leave, he also wanted to find out what purpose Dash had for this outing, because it was not like his friend to arrange something like this without a reason.

      Charlie shrugged and echoed Andrew’s own thoughts. “I cannot see the purpose of this, Drew. It tickles none of my senses. I am not amused, entertained, titillated or curious. Surely there’s more?”

      “Observation of human nature, I believe Dash said,” Andrew whispered.

      “An’now, gents, ’ere we are at the commons, or the gallery as some calls it,” the keeper announced. “These ’uns is harmless. You can ’ave a bit o’ fun with them if you wants. Cost you extra, though.”

      Another group of visitors had arrived before them and stood in a far corner, their laughter overriding the sound of shouts and curses. Andrew turned in the direction of their pointing fingers to find a group of men scrambling over what looked to be a hunk of nearly raw meat. The scene reminded him of a pack of dogs behind a butcher shop. This, he assumed, was what the keeper had meant by “a bit o’ fun.”

      Dash, who had gone ahead with Henley, Jamie and Throckmorton, glanced over his shoulder to look at Andrew. Waiting for a reaction, no doubt. But Andrew had none to give him. Whatever response Dash had been looking for, he could muster neither outrage nor amusement. He’d seen enough in the war to make him numb to human suffering and to realize that there was no limit to man’s inhumanity. He turned back to the activities in the common room, trying to keep track of the shifting tableaus as they were incited by the “visitors.”

      Money changed hands, and then one of the inmates approached a woman dressed in a mobcap and a low-cut dress. He whispered in her ear and she glanced at the group that had sent him. A manic smile exposed gaps where teeth should have been, and she began to hitch her skirts up around her hips. Lord! Were the visitors such immature idiots themselves that they derived pleasure from seeing an unfortunate expose herself?

      But it did not stop at that. The payment had been for something else entirely. There, for all to see, the male inmate dropped his trousers and the pair of them began to copulate to the enthusiastic encouragement of the onlookers. On some base level, Andrew realized that watching such activities was arousing for a good many people—that it awakened a hunger, at the very least. He’d known courtesans and the owners of private clubs to arrange such performances. But here and now, at the expense of those who either did not comprehend their actions or appreciate that they were being made sport of, it seemed intrinsically wrong.

      “Amazing, is it not, what one will do for money?” Dash asked. “I daresay we could make this lot do damn near anything we chose.”

      Andrew blinked and turned to his friend. “For a crust of bread or a cut of meat?”

      “Aye. Does it remind you of the war, Drew?”

      This echo of his own thoughts caused the hair on the back of Andrew’s neck to prickle. Was this why Dash had brought him here? “The madness? Or the depravity?”

      “Both. And the power. Bedlam is as close to Valle del Fuego as I’ve found since our return.”

      That godforsaken village! “Why would you want to be reminded, Dash? God knows I’ve spent years trying to forget.”

      “Aye, but there was something there—something lacking in London. Some tiny primal spark. You must feel it. Something so…so fundamental that it has no name.”

      There was more Dash was trying to tell him, something he would not put into words and was pleading with Andrew to understand. “Uncivilized,” he admitted. “Not altogether comfortable.”

      “Precisely!” Dash’s expression was somber. “It pulls at one, does it not?”

      Andrew glanced again at the copulating couple. Yes, it pulled at him, that urge to shed everything civilized. This was the part of Bedlam that appealed to Dash—primeval man, stripped of morality, propriety and law.

      A chill crept down his spine, and his throat clogged with the heavy atmosphere. He wanted to feel again. Anything. To have some part of him awakened to ordinary senses. What would that take? The pull grew stronger, almost impossible to resist. He wanted it, craved it, and yet the last shred of decency he possessed resisted. He spun back down the passageway. “I need a drink.”

      Belmonde’s! Ah, thank God for ordinary debauchery. Andrew’s tension eased as he downed his second brandy. Tonight he’d come dangerously close to the abyss. He’d flirted with it for so long that he was mildly surprised he’d even recognized the line. And some fatalistic part of him knew it was coming—the day he could no longer resist the pull. The day he would cross that line.

      He was on his way back to the salon from changing coins for counters when he passed the foyer. Ah, the night was full of surprises. There stood Bella, even lovelier than usual, in earnest conversation with the doorman. And he knew why. The little chit did not have entrée.

      He went forward. “Ah, here you are, my dear. Don’t dawdle.” He removed her cloak and handed it to a waiting footman, then turned to the doorman. “Biddle, see to it that she is admitted without delay in the future, would you?”

      “Why, yes, sir. I’d have done so ere now, but she did not mention your name.”

      He grinned down at the speechless woman as he took her arm. “Ah, she is shy, Biddle. Very shy. But you will use my name in the future, will you not, my dear?”

      Her eyes widened and she nodded.

      He slipped Biddle a few counters and winked as he led her away. “How nice to see you again, Bella. Dare I hope you were looking for me?”

      “You…you may hope anything you wish, sir. But I had no idea you’d be here. I thought you and your ilk would be at some aristocratic soiree.”

      His СКАЧАТЬ