The Hunt Club Chronicles Bundle (42 page)

He ushered
Bracknell
inside and led him to the small anteroom’s desk and saw the membership register had been moved here as he had requested. “If you could just sign the register, my lord, we can then proceed upstairs.”

Bracknell
’s jaw clenched.

Francis sighed. “No one is allowed beyond this chamber without signing.”

When
Bracknell
remained still, he flipped the pages to the first and pointed at the duke’s name, his own name, the duke’s of Byworth and Lewes. The very first club members.

Bracknell
’s jaw loosened and he signed his name with a flourish.

Francis snapped the book shut and shoved it under his arm. “There are twenty-three rooms within the house. The great room and gallery, dining room and library on the lower levels, but above stairs is where the club differs from most others. Here a lord can find pleasure of every sort imaginable, and some I don’t understand at all.”

He pointed along a narrow corridor. “Patrons come through there from the front rooms and into this reception chamber.”

Bracknell
nodded, eyes sweeping over what he could see from floor to ceiling.

At this hour, the whores were still preparing for the coming night but he would have to assemble them all for
Bracknell
’s perusal later.

The movement of red silk across the chamber drew his attention. Of course Marinari would be keen to make the acquaintance of the club’s new lord and master. What he hadn’t worked out was whether
Bracknell
would realize that she was a man beneath the fine silks or if he’d have to tell him.

“Redding, so good to see you, darling. But who is this fine gentleman? I must make his acquaintance.”

Francis rolled his eyes as
Bracknell
dipped his head. Marinari knew exactly who
Bracknell
was, the minx. But he performed the introductions, wincing when
Bracknell
behaved as if he spoke to a woman. He’d have to tell him then.

Marinari slipped her arm through
Bracknell
’s. “So you have come to us at last. I had begun to fear the duke would never relent and keep you from us indefinitely. We are, of course, at your complete disposal.”

“Thank you,”
Bracknell
murmured.

“Marinari, remember the duke’s rules.”

She turned and her gaze raked him from head to toe. “Every rule can be broken.”

An uncomfortable flush swept his skin.
Bracknell
scowled and Marinari laughed at him then began the tour with
Bracknell
on her arm. Instead of Francis being burdened with the chore, she did all the talking, sweeping
Bracknell
from room to room, flirting with him shamelessly in the process.
Bracknell
lapped up the attention, nodded politely to the ladies when they presented themselves for his inspection. But
Bracknell
frowned at the growing number of men he encountered.

“Marinari, would you excuse us?”

Her smile faltered but she did as he asked. He drew
Bracknell
into the next chamber and closed the door. “The club caters to many tastes, my lord. There are an equal number of ladies and fellows available in the club for pleasure.”

“Was my surprise that obvious?”
Bracknell
grumbled. He crossed the room, pulled open a wardrobe and scanned the contents.

“I’m afraid so. There is worse to come. I didn’t feel right not warning you.”

A frown creased
Bracknell
’s brow. “I always wondered why my father kept you around so much. Seems he couldn’t risk letting you go. The things you could say, heh?” He swallowed. “Redding, why are the ladies’ slippers so large?”

Francis peered around his shoulder and shrugged. “Those clothes do not belong to the whores here. They are garments and fripperies for the members to slip on if they enjoy them.”

Bracknell
slammed the doors closed. “I’m in a mad house.”

“One can grow accustomed to madness.”

Bracknell
turned. “What exactly is your position with my father? You are certainly more than mere footman.”

Disquiet rumbled through Francis. What exactly was he now? He didn’t rightly know. “I joined the duke’s household at age ten. Your grandsire preferred him to be always attended by servants so I was added to their number to provide companionship while he prowled the estate.”

Bracknell
nodded, settling against the robe as if he’d forgotten the contents existed.

“Over time, when he’d grown more sure of himself and stood up to his family’s strictures, your father dismissed the others and kept me exclusively.”

Bracknell
nodded. “I have a vague memory of you from when I was a boy standing behind my father in the driving rain beside my mother’s grave not long after she was laid to rest.”

Francis swallowed over the painful memory. “He grieved for her more than you know.”

“Is that why he sent me away? Why I didn’t see him for almost a year.”

Francis raked his hand through his hair. He didn’t like to speak of the duke this way and certainly not here where anyone could overhear them. He shouldn’t say another word. “There is much more to see, my lord, if you would just come this way.”

For the first time ever in Francis’ memory,
Bracknell
let a subject drop without question. He followed him into the torture room and stopped dead still. Knowing it would take a while to process the contraptions in the room, Francis closed the door and leaned against the wall to wait. “Everything is cleaned and oiled daily. You may touch anything you’re curious about.”

Bracknell
gave a nervous laugh but circled the room slowly. He was very curious about the devices, it seemed. Most people were but not many returned for personal application to their body. While
Bracknell
rattled about, Francis relaxed, dropping his gaze to the floor. During the course of the morning,
Bracknell
had grown less surly toward him and that could only be for the good. He had winced when
Bracknell
avoided his father’s touch yesterday and hoped he would not distance himself from his father’s love. Ambrose would be unhappy.

Bracknell
cleared his throat. “How many of the members would use this chamber?”

“Quite a few.” He lifted his gaze to
Bracknell
. “More than half. But that wasn’t your real question, was it?”

Bracknell
shook his head.

Francis smiled as reassuringly as he could. “Your father has never used this chamber to my knowledge, or sought the entertainment among those he employs here. He has found his pleasures elsewhere since the club began. He’s said more than once that a landlord should not piss in his own parlor, so to speak, unless he wanted trouble. The place is an investment to him. One he takes great pains to manage well. The whores are clean and biddable, violence is frowned upon, and those working here are paid a decent wage with adequate comforts for their labors. He would want that to continue.”

Bracknell
approached. “He doesn’t dabble here because he has you?”

“Not until recently, my lord. He prefers gentlemen and ladies of his own rank.”

Bracknell
goggled. “At the same time?”

Francis bit his tongue. He should not have said a further word about the duke’s adventurous sex life.

Suddenly,
Bracknell
laughed. “I have to hand it to my father. He certainly keeps his secrets well and truly hidden. I find I am amazed that you’ve put up with him for so long, Red.” Then he slapped his shoulder and stepped out into the hall.

Francis stilled in shock. A friendly slap, the shortening of his last name, didn’t mean
Bracknell
had accepted his father’s habits but it did mean he wasn’t quite so angry about yesterdays kiss. He drew in a deep breath and hurried from the room to finish the tour. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see
Bracknell
anywhere in the hall.

He retraced his steps as far as the anteroom and when he still hadn’t found
Bracknell
, he searched through the private parts of the club again.

An explosion of sound erupted down the hall and
Bracknell
burst into view, disheveled, panting and wide eyed. He was also rubbing his wrist in an alarming way.

Francis hurried to him as he spoke.

“She’s a bloody man.”

“Oh hell.” Francis winced. “There was one more matter, my lord.” Since
Bracknell
shook his hand so violently and wriggled his fingers without grimacing in pain, Francis concluded that Marinari hadn’t done more than enforce her opinion that she wasn’t to be pawed at by a patron.

Bracknell
scowled as she sauntered out the door with a wicked grin, hair perfect and a definite strut in her stride.

“That,”
Bracknell
growled, “I needed to know about, Redding.” He covered his face with his hands then looked at them with horror. “He has a—”

Poor bastard. It was the first time Francis could ever remember feeling sorry for the duke’s son. But also incredibly amusing. He wished Ambrose could have been here to see it. “I’d always assumed she did but never considered satisfying my curiosity.”

Bracknell
’s gaze pinned him in place. “Does my father know about him?”

Francis grinned in memory of that first introduction between Marinari and the duke. “You’re quicker than your father. It took him a whole day of Marinari’s flirting before he found out. I must say, your reactions are remarkably similar.”

“Then why did he hire him if he was appalled?”

“Oh, he wasn’t appalled. He was put out that I figured it out first. You know how he is.” Francis grinned. “Your father has a very open mind about what constitutes a man’s acceptable pleasure. And he found a perfect bodyguard and bawd in the process. No one crosses Marinari.”

Bracknell
rubbed his wrist again.

“Did she injure you, my lord?”

“Of course not.” He paused a long moment then shrugged. “She’s only a woman.”

Francis laughed at
Bracknell
’s bravery in the face of certain disaster. Did he really not see the risk Marinari presented? “Marinari is as dangerous as a real one. Be cautious, my lord.”

Chapter Twelve