"In yonder abode resides Lady Kendall, a faithful friend and correspondent of our mother. May God shield us from her," Felix said with a touch of irony, eliciting laughter from Daniel.
"Draw the curtains, for she may yet glimpse us and hasten our betrothals," he advised his brother, glancing out the window onto the bustling London street. "Much remains unchanged in this place," Daniel remarked.
"Nay, dear brother. From tadpoles, these maidens have blossomed into exquisite women," replied Felix with an admiring tone.
Daniel shook his head disapprovingly and spoke with disappointment, "Do you never tire of fixating on skirts?"
"'Tis not merely the skirts that captivate my attention," he replied, a wide smile playing upon his lips, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"Ah, it had not occurred to me," Daniel grinned wryly.
"Shall I, then, bind my eyes with a black ribbon so as to see nought?" quipped his younger brother dramatically, gesturing with flair.
"By all means, give it a try. Perchance it shall prove beneficial," the elder brother continued to jest.
Felix sighed, leaning back against the carriage seat and spoke in a feigned melancholy tone, "Very well! Yet, I am willing to do so solely to spare my gaze from beholding your unsightly face," earning himself a sharp jab from his brother.
"Come now, cease being so serious," chuckled Felix.
"As an heir to the duchy, I must exercise restraint. Better late than never," said Daniel, noting his brother's sceptical expression.
"We are not in the public eye now, Daniel. Besides, whose favour do you seek to gain with such amiable conduct?" The younger of the Grays inquired.
"Mainly father's and mother's, as usual," his brother replied and were it not for the confines of the carriage, he might have added a touch of sarcasm with a bow.
Felix chuckled and retorted, "If I am the great seducer and jester, then you, dear brother, are an even better actor and a dissembler."
"You hold yourself in high regard," Daniel remarked, not allowing him to continue as he had caught sight of something. "How intriguing," he mused.
"What catches your eye?" Felix asked, attempting to locate the object of his brother's interest, though his view was mostly obstructed by his brother's head.
"A charitable orphanage in such a respectable quarter is a rare sight indeed," replied Daniel, signalling the coachman to halt.
Children, not only those from the orphanage, had gathered before a handsomely adorned edifice. Some sat upon small benches facing an impromptu stage. The stage played host to a theatrical production depicting a prince rescuing a fair princess from a formidable six-headed dragon. While several children performed on the stage, a small, ragged boy with tattered ribbons meandered through the crowd, proffering his cap for voluntary contributions. The simple tale evoked smiles upon the faces of both young and old, yet only a handful deposited coins into the boy's cap. As the child drew closer to the carriage, Daniel beckoned him forth.
"Will you lend support to our charitable cause, sir?" The boy inquired, a smile adorning his face.
"Indeed, young lad."
Placing within the cap a sum far weightier than the boy's hands had grown accustomed to, Daniel discerned the widened child's eyes in astonishment. When their gazes met once more, wonder robbed the boy of speech, causing the cap to tremble within his small grasp.
"I-I thank you in the name of Saint Angelica's Orphanage. Please come to our forthcoming performance," the boy stammered before hastening toward the stage where two elder ladies, surely the matrons of the orphanage, stood.
Felix regarded Daniel with surprise etched on his countenance and asked in bewilderment, "What was that? A sudden change of heart or the return of the Good Samaritan?"
Daniel shook his head and sneered, "You scoundrel, attending church for clandestine Bible readings, are you?"
Not allowing him to continue their budding dispute, Daniel continued, "These are children who bear no blame for being abandoned or forsaken by their own families. They rely solely on an institution that can barely subsist without the support of benevolent souls. I merely sympathise with their plight."
"Do you fancy adopting them all, then?" Felix taunted.
Daniel smiled and replied, "You know well that if I could, I would. Yet, that alone would not address the root of the problem that consigns these children to destitution."
Felix nodded in approval at his words, but he was not one to dwell on the fate of strangers, even when it came to children. He tapped at the coachman and inquired about a suitable tavern where they could find respite, irrespective of their lineage or the depth of their pockets. Before long, they arrived at the Red Cat, a rowdy establishment situated in a dubious neighbourhood.
"I would advise against engaging with the local lasses, especially if you wish to live a long life. However, they do serve excellent ale," the coachman warned, bidding them farewell.
"Thank you for the advice," Felix muttered to himself, as he and his brother made their way into the tavern.
Crimson dominated the interior, adorning the curtains, carpets, and the upholstery of the chairs. Were it not for the flamboyant hues and the pungent scent of tobacco, the brothers might have doubted they were in a tavern. The local clientele appeared subdued, comprising roughly ten individuals.
Among them was a crimson-haired maiden serving the patrons, while a weary innkeeper wiped glasses discreetly, keeping an eye on the men gathered around one of the tables. Most were engrossed in their drinks, but a persuasive fellow sought to entice two others—a tall man and a bespectacled gent—into a game of cards, despite their vehement resistance. All eyes eventually settled on the fifth man, a nonchalant fellow reclining in his chair, supporting his chin with his hands, seemingly indifferent to the commotion.
"I refuse to play against someone who cheats like a peddler at a fair," the tall man exclaimed fervently.
The young gent regarded him quizzically and calmly replied, "I've rolled up my sleeves, discarded my coat, and the deck has been meticulously inspected five times. I assure you, I possess no magical powers."
"Not to offend you, sir, but your streak of luck is astonishing. I have yet to witness anyone triumph in eleven consecutive rounds," argued the bespectacled man, to which the young man simply shrugged.
This intriguing group, with its enigmatic master of cards, piqued Daniel's curiosity to the point where he himself yearned to engage in a game with the mysterious man laden with luck. Glancing at his brother, he realised that Felix also harboured a desire to unravel the source of the man's good fortune. Sensing their interest, the gentleman gestured for them to join his table.
"Good sirs, care to partake in a game of whist?" He asked them without hesitation.
"Indeed," Daniel replied, and together with Felix, they took their seats at the table. Finally, they had the opportunity to observe the card maestro up close. His light-brown, slightly longer hair was meticulously arranged, neatly tucked behind his ears. He sported a faint stubble, a departure from the prevailing London trend where most men embraced the fashion of growing facial hair.
Yet, it was his eyes that captivated Daniel the most. Almond-shaped and amber, with flickers of gold, they exuded intelligence and cunning, capable of mocking with a mere gaze. When Daniel caught him sizing him up, he was the first to avert his gaze. Another detail that caught his attention was the man's physique—beneath his shirt, well-defined muscles hinted at a strength not commonly found in London's men. Accompanying him was an older gentleman dressed modestly, seemingly unremarkable enough to avoid arousing suspicion in Daniel, yet he remained vigilant.
"Please," the younger man said to Daniel, handing him a deck of cards to shuffle. After complying, the man proceeded to deal five cards to each player, reserving seven for his companion on the right.
"Wouldn't it be more suitable for my brother to sit beside you?" Daniel inquired, prompting a knowing smile from the stranger.
"Pray, permit me. Burnett, I beseech you to exchange your position with the gentleman," the younger man declared, displaying a smirk as he gestured towards the seat beside him. Felix cast a perplexed gaze at his brother, yet discerned no response in his eyes. Hence, he silently traded places with Burnett, briefly inspected the cards, and resolved upon the suit of spades. The unknown gentleman proceeded to deal five additional cards, and Felix, in turn, proposed the game of trump. Bets were duly placed, and the game was commenced.
Lynette Morris carefully balanced two tankards of ale in each of her hands to be delivered to three boisterous young gentlemen who were celebrating one of their folk's natal day. With titles and wealth adorning their pockets, their heads were filled with mirth and inebriation, causing them to regard Lynette, a diligent young woman, as if she were a representative of the oldest profession.
Their gaze fixated on her low-cut neckline, and she swore she could feel it on her backside as well. Though she felt their impertinence in her core, she maintained her composure, refusing to allow their advances to breach her boundaries. Lynette endured their coarse remarks about her name, subtle innuendos, and raucous laughter that slowly transformed into a cacophony akin to wounded animals.
"Missus, where are those ales?" one of them called out.
"They are—" Lynette's words were cut short as she inadvertently slipped on a small pool of liquid, its origin a matter she preferred not to contemplate. The tankards collided with the wooden floor, shattering into countless fragments with a resounding crash. For a fleeting moment, she felt her bones intertwine, causing her breath to momentarily escape her lungs. Another wave of laughter erupted from the young men, but Lynette swiftly rose to her feet and made her way to the pantry, intent on retrieving a cloth to clean all that mess. As she passed by the innkeeper, she overheard his disgruntled whisper:
"Do you realise how much those glasses cost me? You will work to repay your clumsiness, cunt."
Ignoring his reproach, she retrieved the cloth and commenced the task of wiping the damp floor. En route to the pantry, she noticed that two of the five gentlemen engaged in a game of cards at a nearby table—a pair who had not burdened her with incessant demands or frivolous banter—had directed their attention towards her following her mishap: Sir Badger and the raven-haired gentleman with the most captivating features she had ever beheld. The latter held no allure for her, yet Sir Badger's apparent interest warmed her heart, preserving her composure and preventing a single tear from falling in this humiliating predicament. If only she could attend to their table this evening!
Sir Badger and Mr. Burnett were regular patrons of the Red Cat Inn, always treating her with kindness. They would surreptitiously slip additional coins her way, ensuring the innkeeper remained none the wiser. Sir Badger possessed an air of fascination, emanating sensuality that weakened her knees. Whenever she conversed with him, she felt so diminutive and foolish, as if her mind ceased to function in his presence. Lynette would steal glances at him during lulls in her duties, and she observed that while Mr. Burnett occasionally visited the bedrooms of the women upstairs, Sir Badger never partook in such dalliances.
She possessed no naivety, though, understanding that he certainly was not a man who abstained from female company, yet she secretly hoped he was not one who flitted from one woman to another with swift abandon. At times, their gazes would intertwine, and in those fleeting moments, he would offer a discreet wink and a charming smile. This would elicit a rosy blush upon her cheeks akin to a lobster's hue, leaving her momentarily breathless in the aftermath of these brief but delightful interactions.
"When you're done fooling around, fetch us another round, lass!" One of the men called out.
Reality swiftly beckoned Lynette from her reverie, grounding her once more. "Very well, I shall attend to it promptly!" She replied, her voice projecting across the room.
"And do remember to cleanse your hands first!" chimed another, igniting laughter among the others.
Outwardly, Lynette masked the offence stirred within her by that remark, yet inwardly, she seethed with animosity towards these entitled gentlemen who knew not how to wield their joy responsibly. She detested the labour she was bound to, resenting the anger that festered within her for her own ill-fated circumstances that had shown no signs of improvement since leaving the Irish countryside for London in pursuit of a better life. It had appeared promising briefly when she secured employment in a more affluent district, serving in the household of a benevolent elderly gentleman.
Unfortunately, she had to flee from there due to a dire situation, and since then, her luck had plummeted. Oh, if only I had never arrived here from Ireland!, Lynette thought, irritated. She dabbed away the last droplets and discarded the cloth into the bucket. She wholly disregarded the gentlemen's instruction to cleanse their hands and filled new tankards, taking deep breaths, endeavouring to compose her mind, which was consumed with a torrent of curses. This time, she reached their table unharmed, placed the tankards upon it, and prepared to depart forthwith when, suddenly, one of the lords seized her elbow and forcefully seated her upon his knee. Swiftly, she leapt up and exclaimed, "How dare you!"
"But my, my, our little clumsy vixen is vexed. Pray, you're not here solely for scrubbing floors and fetching ale, are you?" He quipped, preparing to administer a slap to her posterior.
"Attempt it, and I shall pour it over your head," she warned, brandishing his drink with menace.
The man retracted his hand, reaching for his purse instead. He jingled it briefly and placed it on the table before her. "For a single night with you."
His uncommon, emerald green eyes blazed with desire.
"Do you believe I shall acquiesce like a hound to bacon seeing your purse? Never!" Lynette retorted, her voice filled with ire.
"Indeed, you may leap upon my cock like a famished dog upon a sausage," the lord remarked, his tongue caressing his lips, causing her to shudder. He once again reached for her, but thankfully, she evaded his grasp and departed with aplomb, her head held high. A disgruntled patron glanced at his comrades, who began deriding him, and hurled a few insults in Lynette's direction.
Her face burned, her teeth clenched in fury, and she immediately commenced washing the goblets, determined to disregard their comments and prevent the innkeeper from having a reason for another reproach. However, fortified by the prospect of a swift profit that the lord had proffered Lynette, the innkeeper resolved to treat his threat against her with earnestness this time.
"Did she not fetch what you desired, sir?" he inquired sweetly, addressing the offended lord.
"She brought me everything but one—herself," the lord lamented, feigning dejection.
"I could arrange for her to be more accessible," the innkeeper offered conspiratorially, his eyes fixed upon the lord's purse.
The young man noticed the innkeeper's gaze and extracted additional funds, adding them to the pile. "So that you do not squander any more time," he declared decisively.
The innkeeper approached Lynette and, without uttering a word, seized her hand just as she immersed another soiled goblet into a basin brimming with water.
"Pardon me, what is transpiring?" she queried, taken aback. Surely, those youthful mischief-makers had complained about her, yet he had said nought to her, merely wrenching her away from the tap. They halted only by the staircase on the far side of the room, which led to those chambers of indulgence where the fair-haired young lord presently arrived. His penetrating, emerald eyes, clouded by spirits and desire, unsettled her this time.
"Behold, she is here, ready to obey your every command, though she may require a few lessons to be meek akin to a lamb," her captor declared, firmly holding her hand and thrusting her into the slippery embrace of the young lord, who promptly ensnared her in his arms and began placing kisses upon her neck. In that moment, she regained her composure and cried out,
"Release me!"
Daniel resignedly placed the cards on the table and shook his head. That gentleman must have possessed the devil's own luck, for he won every hand by far.
"I concede, sir. I would lose even a dukedom in your presence," he uttered with a hint of frustration.
Dodger chuckled with satisfaction, discreetly exchanging a wink with his companion Burnett, and replied, "I appreciate your graciousness. You displayed skill, worthy of instruction for your brother. Though, did you not truly participate, sir?" The young man looked at Felix, "At times, you seemed leagues away."
Felix fidgeted uneasily. Truth be told, he had paid little attention to the game, his gaze fixed upon the crimson-haired maiden who served ale to a group of inebriated young gentlemen. "What do you mean I did not play? Was I not dealing the cards?" he retorted.
Their laughter dissipated abruptly as a piercing female scream cut through the air.
"Release me!"
Felix sprang to his feet, hastening towards the spot where the lass and the man had vanished. Daniel and Dodger followed closely behind, reaching the stairs just in time to witness a young man forcibly pulling the defiant maid away.
"Unhand her!" Felix shouted, his voice seething with anger, directed at the young lord.
"And why should I comply?" the lord feigned ignorance.
"Because she wishes not for your touch!"
"Since when do harlots possess such wishes?"
"Since they must defend themselves against scoundrels such as yourself!" Felix retorted, eliciting a chuckle from the lord.
Then the lord released the lass and lunged towards Felix. Daniel and Dodger found themselves confronting the lord's companions from the table, determined not to let their friend stand alone. In an instant, the effects of spirits evaporated from their minds, giving way to a flurry of clenched fists. The remaining three unknown lords, with free hands, took advantage of Burnett's decision to observe the brawl respectfully from a distance, owing to his age. Yet dodging a body propelled by Dodger, Burnett quickly sought to withdraw, as several men had flocked to the tavern in search of various libations during their game of cards. A lord flying through the air while clutching their drinks proved to be an ideal pretext for igniting a true tavern skirmish. Meanwhile, Felix grappled with the belligerent lord, who surprised him with a blow to the abdomen.
Felix retaliated, but soon received a stinging blow to his face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Aware of his limited brawling prowess, Felix found his pride severely wounded by his slippery, drunken opponent. The lord prepared to deliver a final blow, aiming to stomp on Felix's neck, but a resolute Daniel intervened just in time. With little effort, Daniel swiftly sent the young lord tumbling into a corner. Then he turned around, catching a glimpse of a snarling visage belonging to another inebriated aggressor, who intended to strike him with a chair. In that moment, Dodger's powerful hand seized the aggressor, forcefully pulling him back, and causing him to crash to the ground. A thunderous thud resonated as Dodger wrested the chair from the assailant's grip, delivering a single decisive blow to ensure the drunkard would not rise anytime soon.
"Let us depart ere more arrive!" Dodger called out to the brothers, gesturing toward the tavern's rear exit.
Felix, who had managed to regain his footing, cast a sweeping gaze around, his adversary momentarily forgotten. However, upon failing to spot the crimson-haired lass, he sprinted toward the back exit alongside Dodger and Daniel. They dashed past weathered edifices, entered a narrow alley, and finally emerged into an overgrown park, engulfed by ancient trees, devoid of any presence. Both brothers breathed a sigh of relief, taking a seat on the nearest stone bench.
"You saved us, and for that, we are grateful. But we realised we never properly introduced ourselves," Daniel said, still trying to catch his breath.
"Likewise," Dodger replied with a smile. "If it pleases you, you may address me as Sir Dodger."
"We are most delighted! I am Daniel, and this is my brother, Felix," he introduced them both by their given names, as the heightened excitement of the moment had momentarily stripped his mind of any suitable nicknames.
"Well then, Sir Dodger, may I inquire as to where you acquired such formidable pugilistic skills?" Felix inquired, massaging his jaw, which had begun to swell.
"There are secret establishments in London dedicated to the art of pugilism, where social standing holds no sway, be it a commoner, a merchant, or a nobleman. On practice days, fortune may favour you, providing an opportunity to find a skilled mentor. These venues also host tournaments, where the stakes extend beyond mere currency, often encompassing matters of life and death," Dodger elucidated.
"And what purpose does this knowledge serve you?" Daniel asked Felix, intrigued.
"To become more proficient in duels," Felix replied curtly, his frustration evident.
"But I presume they do not partake in games of cards at such establishments, or am I mistaken?" Daniel playfully taunted, eliciting a chuckle from Dodger.
When Daniel then caught sight of Felix's displeased gaze, he added, "You possess wit, beauty, and charm of a seducer, but one cannot have everything."
This time, Felix also allowed a smile to grace his lips. "Nevertheless, it is worth attempting, is it not?"
Daniel nodded and redirected his attention to their newfound companion. "Sir Dodger, your refined manners and graceful movements betray your noble lineage. It seems unlikely that you require financial gains from engaging in card games."
"Sir Daniel, it is a reality of this town that deceit pervades every aspect of life. Through daily practice, one attains mastery in deception, even in the art of winning at cards," he responded, cunningly winking at Daniel. "As for myself, I am seeking self-improvement. And I can be honest about one thing – I relish this life of the urban underworld. It offers challenge, liberty, and excitement, where one can speak and behave as one pleases, unconstrained by social norms. I live as I choose, engaging with whomever I desire and pursuing my ever-changing whims," he elaborated.
"You may find contentment in such a life. However, consider the plight of that young woman in the tavern. She appeared devoid of freedom and autonomy in her choices," Daniel mused.
Sir Dodger shrugged nonchalantly. "I am grateful that we happened upon the right place at the right time to prevent injustice and I hope she shall not return to that wretched den."
The brothers concurred, and soon thereafter, the paths of the three individuals diverged.
Fortunately, it was a temporary parting.