Read The Women of Nell Gwynne's for Free Online Page B

provoking him," said Mrs. Corvey. "Your work will be to discover what, precisely, is being auctioned at this affair. We may be fortunate enough to have it spoken of in our presence, with no more thought of our understanding than if we were dogs. He may be more discreet, and in that case you will need to get it out of the guests. I suspect the lot of you will be handed around like bonbons, but if any one of them takes any one of you to his bedroom, then I strongly recommend the use of one of Mr. Felmouth's nostrums."
    "Oh, jolly good," said Dora in a pleased voice, lifting the edge of her traveling cloak to admire the amber buttons on her yellow satin gown.
    "Our other objective..." Mrs. Corvey sorted through the case and drew out a second photograph. "William Reginald
    Ludbridge." She held up the image. The subject of the portrait faced square ahead, staring into the camera's lens. He was a man of perhaps forty-five, with blunt pugnacious features rendered slightly diabolical by a moustache and goatee. His gaze was shrewd and leonine.
    "One of our brothers in the Society," said Mrs. Corvey. "The gentleman sent to Basmond Park before us, in the guise of a laborer. He seems to have gone missing. We are to find him, if possible, and render any assistance we may. I expect that will be my primary concern, while you lot concentrate on the other gentlemen."
    At that moment the coach slowed and, shortly, stopped. The coachman descended and opened the door. "The Basmond Arms, ladies," he informed them, offering his arm to Mrs. Corvey.
    "Mamma, the kind man has put out his arm for you," said Maude. Mrs. Corvey pretended to grope, located the coachman's arm and allowed herself to be helped down from the coach.
    "So very kind!" she murmured, and stood there feeling about in her purse while the other ladies were assisted into Basmond High Street, and their trunks lifted down. Temporarily anonymous and respectable, they stood all together outside the Basmond Arms, regarded with mild interest by passers-by. At length the publican ventured out and inquired whether he might be of service.
    "Thank you, good man, but his lordship is sending a carriage to meet us," said Mrs. Corvey, just as Jane pointed and cried, "Oooh, look at the lovely barouche!" The publican, having by this time noticed their paint and the general style of their attire, narrowed his eyes and stepped back.
    "Party for the Hall?" inquired the grinning driver. He pulled up before the public house. "Scramble up, girls!"
    Muttering, the publican turned and went back indoors as the ladies approached the carriage. The driver jumped down, loaded on their trunks and sprang back into his seat. "How about the redhead sits beside me?" said the driver, with a leer.
    "How about you give us a hand up like a gentleman, duckie?" retorted Maude.
    "Say no more." The driver obliged by giving them each rather more than a hand up, after which Maude obligingly settled beside him and submitted herself to a kiss, a series of pinches and a brief covert exploration of her ankle. Lady Beatrice, observing this, fingered her pistol-locket thoughtfully, but Maude seemed equal to defending herself.
    "Naughty boy!" said Maude, giving the driver an openly intimate fondle in return. The driver blushed and sat straight. He shook the reins and the carriage moved off along the high street, running a gauntlet of disgusted looks from such townsfolk as happened to be lounging on their front steps or leaning over their garden walls.
    "My gracious, they ain't quite a friendly lot here, are they?" Maude inquired pertly, in rather coarser accents than was her wont. "Doesn't his lordship have working girls to call very often?"
    "You're the first," said the driver, who had recovered a little of his composure. Looking over his shoulder to be certain they had passed the last of the houses, he slipped his arm around Maude's waist.
    "The first! And here we thought he was a right sporting buck, didn't we, girls? What's your