Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Sixteen

The ancient hackney cab pulled up in the lane, in front of a dark doorway. Jonathan looked across at Lord D'Anvers. Was this the right place? It certainly didn't appear as if anything was happening inside. Where were the lights? The liveried footmen, standing ready to greet the guests?  

But D'Anvers was already getting out of the coach and tossing a coin up to the driver. This was evidently their destination. Jonathan followed him a trifle reluctantly, wondering, not for the first time, what he was letting himself in for.  

His Lordship strode confidently up to the door and knocked four times. It opened silently, allowing a pale light to shine forth onto the pavement and revealing the outline of a thickset man dressed in grey. Jonathan saw a face which had evidently taken a few hard knocks in its time, the nose was flattened and an ugly scar crossed the man's forehead from his hairline to his left eyebrow. He resembled a pugilist far more than a footman. 

Lord D'Anvers spoke a few words in a low voice and the fellow stepped back to allow them to enter. Jonathan gave a nervous laugh, if only inside his head. That had sounded for all the world like a secret password, haha. What was this place? He followed his lordship uneasily along a narrow passage and up a flight of steps to where a set of double doors awaited them.  

Another man dressed in grey, looking far more like a real footman this time, stood outside the doors and watched their approach. The bruiser who had accompanied them thus far, gave a brief nod to the footman, before turning and making his way back downstairs to his post. Silently, the footman opened the doors wide to allow them to enter. Immediately light and noise flooded out into the hallway. 

Jonathan could see a large room, filled with men in evening dress, laughing and chattering together in small groups, along with a few who had evidently taken the masquerade more to heart. He could see a Roman soldier and at least two men in togas amongst the guests. A flash of scarlet and gold silk revealed that several women had donned elaborate gowns from a bygone era. Towering grey wigs crowned their heads and jewels flashed at their throats. Shepherdesses mingled with characters from ancient mythology. And everyone who was not more effectively disguised, wore a domino mask. 

Branched candelabras lit the room, reflecting light off polished floorboards and he could see grey liveried servants moving discreetly between the guests with glasses of what looked like champagne, or possibly lemonade for the younger ladies. He could hear music in the background, coming through an open doorway from the room beyond. Presumably that was where the dancing was. 

Jonathan smiled in relief, this was more like what he had been expecting. 

He followed D'Anvers into the room, scarcely noticing when the footman closed the doors behind them. 

~~~ 

D'Anvers moved between the groups of men, heading for the room beyond where violins were playing a cotillion. "You may want to stay close to me." He tossed over his shoulder, rather confusingly. 

Jonathan was looking at D'Anvers, waiting for an explanation when he was approached by one of the women wearing a grey pompadour wig and a scarlet gown. A rather large hand reached out to rest lightly on his arm. 

"May I have the pleasure of this dance?" she asked in a husky voice. 

Jonathan turned to look at her in startled surprise. Surely, customs were not that different in London? At home, no woman would dream of approaching a strange man without an introduction, and not even then unless they were well known to each other. 

"I'm sorry, Miss," his mouth was uttering a polite refusal before his eyes had even registered the fact that the woman before him was certainly well beyond the first flush of youth. "Er, madam- uh-" he broke off in dismay as his brain continued to process what his eyes were seeing. This was either the ugliest woman he had ever seen ... or he stared at the harsh features beneath the white powder ... it wasn't a woman at all.  

She, or more probably, he, raised a fan to her face and peered provocatively over it. 

Jonathan swallowed convulsively. He turned automatically to Lord D'Anvers for assistance and was met by eyes brimming with mischief above a polite smile. Jonathan bit his lip and turned away, the hot colour flaring on his cheekbones. Damn him! He had done this on purpose! Deliberately taken him to this private club, a club where men could act out their ... fantasies. Probably hoping he would cling to his side all night for protection.  

He took a deep breath. He refused to give him the satisfaction. He would sit and listen to the music, refusing all offers to dance with cool politeness. He would stay for half an hour, just to show D'Anvers he wasn't intimidated, and then he would leave. Take a cab back to the hotel by himself if necessary. 

"I'm sorry ma'am, I don't dance," he told the creature in the scarlet dress and strode past her into the ballroom. He grabbed a glass of champagne on his way and made straight for an empty chair he could see on the other side of the room, near the musicians. He sat down and took a hearty gulp of his drink, trying to settle his jangled nerves. 

Lord D'Anvers eyes followed him with a mixture of surprise and regretful amusement. He pursed his lips, that hadn't gone as expected. Damn! 

He looked around at the other guests, his gaze landing on a young man wearing a Roman gladiator's costume which displayed his naked chest. A brief question and the next moment he was leading his new partner into the dance. Perhaps he could make Jonathan jealous. 

Jonathan sat sipping his champagne, his eyes sliding over the dancers, deliberately avoiding Lord D'Anvers. If he wanted to dance with a half naked man that was no concern of his. Were there any women here at all? He amused himself by trying to guess. He got a small shock when he realised that two of the slender men in evening dress, dancing together, were actually women. He blinked and snagged another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.  

Then he saw a young woman, a girl really, sitting on the other side of the room, watching the dancers. She wore a pale pink muslin gown, with her brown hair in dressed in soft ringlets. She had a pretty, round face and Jonathan was as sure as he could be that she was female. Without giving himself time for second thoughts, Jonathan was on his feet and crossing the room towards her.