Page 36 of The Gentleman’s Thief

“Really?” I feigned exasperation. “Sounds like you need all the luck you can get with that assignment.”

“I will not be outfoxed by The Gentleman Thief!” He determined. “The blaggard could be here at this very moment, pilfering and picking pockets.”

The melody of the music swirled and the conversation with Charles Ashe ceased for a time as we observed the quadrille. Leopold and Mademoiselle d’Harcourt were light on their feet and outshone every other couple on the floor. And just as I was hoping to make my escape from Charles Ashe, he leaned to my ear and said,

“Lawrence has told me much about you. He is very impressed to have one so knowledgeable and steadfast assisting with our great cause.”

My brows narrowed, and as the melody of the music rose to a crescendo, Ashe said,

“Welcome brother. Bless-ed is the seed.”

Hearing that phrase again made me shudder inside. I supposed that now I was apparently one of them I was to parrot that phrase in return. I did so and the grin on Ashe’s face became self-satisfied as if he got quite the rush from enjoying a secret in public.

Now I had another name to add to the list. Ashe, Cavendish, Lord Spencer. I needed to identify three more acolytes and work out what the devil they had in common, apart from their predilection and occult fantasies of immortality.

“You are limping!” I exclaimed when I next encountered Baron Leopold and Mademoiselle d’Harcourt.

“These damnable new pumps are pinching,” Leopold grumbled. “I wish I could take them off and dance in my stocking feet. I am permitted to do that at home. But—I am a guest and Britishers are so very stuffy.” He said in a mocking voice. He resigned himself to taking a seat and pulling a giggling Mademoiselle d’Harcourt to sit on his lap.

Blake stood on library steps and with his measured American voice he spoke about the significance of New Year and how, after the darkness and chill of winter, the New Year offered the possibility for rebirth for—“A personal resurrection”.

And no matter that the string quartet played on in the ballroom and the sound of chatter echoed from the dining room, Blake’s’ practiced oratory was of such passion and power that his voice commanded attention and kept it.

I stood by the chair on which Mademoiselle d’Harcourt and Leopold sat. The boy listened to Blake, starry-eyed, and enwrapped as if he were hearing the true meaning of life in Blake’s words.

Mademoiselle d’Harcourt used her fan to subtly direct me to look at men who could be part of the cabal. Communication was occurring that I was only now just becoming aware of. It was in the winks and nearly imperceptible nods, the smiles and hand gestures. I recognized many of the faces of men in attendance as members of my club. There was Alfred Mapplethorpe, an industrialist, and biologist Grenville Stephens, Illustrator Charles Ashe, Lord Spencer, and another Tory MP, Mark Langley. I watched the way Blake exchanged eye contact as he spoke as if he were speaking directly to certain men. Now that I was aware that subtle communication was taking place I understood that I was here to be observed too. The offering of a night alone with the young German Baron they called The Vessel was a test. I must gird my loins for what was to be a very long night.

Scandalous Behaviour

I unlocked the bedroom door and stepped inside. An obnoxiously drunk Leopold Von Liebenstein barreled in behind me with Mademoiselle d’Harcourt on his arm. He was holding a pilfered bottle of alcohol by the neck, and they were giggling like wicked children, both having consumed a great deal of champagne, and now fine Brandy. I had never seen Sebastian drunk and so I was unsure if Evie was inebriated or if this unladylike display was theater on his part.

I was painfully aware of why I’d been paired-off with Leopold for the night. I knew I would need my wits about me; therefore, I had sipped at just one glass of Champagne. This was to be a test of my mettle.

It was quite a rouse that Sebastian had managed to insinuate Evie into our assignation. I did not know if Leopold favored men, women, or both, but I was rather relieved Sebastian was here and I had not been left to fend off the boy’s advances alone.

I was frustrated that Cavell did not think to share his plans with me—after all, I was unwillingly entangled in these dastardly doings that, if discovered, could ruin my reputation. Could it be that The Dandy Rogue was planning to steal a treasure from the clutches of Fratres Seminis this very night while the other members of the cabal were taking their pleasure elsewhere in the grand mansion-house? I was certain from my conversation with the boy, and from witnessing his outrageous behaviour tonight that Leopold was not the innocent victim that Cavell and Herr Krause believed him to be.

“I want to play a game!” Leopold roared objectionably as he and Mademoiselle d’Harcourt flopped onto the large bed. He took a gulp from the Brandy bottle and then passed it to his companion, who also took a sip. I stood by the now closed and locked door, my feet seemingly unwilling to let me venture further into the room.

“What kind of game?” Mademoiselle d’Harcourt asked as she passed the bottle back.

“Something filthy…something scandalous!” Leopold snickered impishly.

Mademoiselle d’Harcourt’s hand was on the exposed skin of her chest. She then pushed it down into the front of her dress and pulled out a packet of playing cards.

“Strip poker?” She suggested lewdly tossing the packet onto the coverlet.

I gasped at the wanton suggestion.

“My dear, what would your father say? Do not lower yourself like this. Clearly, you are both worse the wear for the drink!” I protested loudly as I moved to a hearth chair.

“Ah, come now Mr. Prickly Pants, we all need to unbutton our britches once in a while. It is a little fun, what is the harm?” She justified drunkenly.

I understood that Sebastian was in his element and was using his, or Evie’s charms to loosen up the German boy. Leopold was glassy-eyed and very drunk however; he appeared delighted by the lady’s salacious suggestion. He placed the Brandy bottle on the nightstand then rolled over and began tickling and groping her, and then to my disgust, starting kissed her throat.

“You are quite the troublesome minx and I love you for it!” He slurred. I was worried then that the aristocrat would notice that Mademoiselle d’Harcourt’s chest was pillowy soft in the wrong way, and the Adam’s apple at her throat was not feminine! But no, he didn’t seem to notice at all. He rested his head upon her fraudulent bosom and Evie stroked his golden hair as if she were a nursing babe.

“Do not fall asleep Leo. You promised me we would have some fun!”