from association with—with the opposite sex, and therefore
perhaps even fears involvement with them—albeit even for the respectable
and necessary pursuit of wedlock?"
"That
is my fear precisely," replied the duke. "Oh, I know it sounds
preposterous at first consideration, Robert, but, believe me, if you had seen
and heard his reactions to my suggestion that he take a wife... well, sir, it
would, perhaps, have begun not to sound so farfetched after all."
"I
see," said Adams, again with a greatly pensive air about him. "Very
well, Your Grace, then what is it you have in mind that might require my
services?"
"Your discreet services, as ever, Robert."
"As
ever, Your Grace," Adams nodded, smiling.
A
conspiratorial look entered the old man's eyes as he leaned forward over his
desktop. "A very simple thing, really," he said, his voice dropping
to a lower pitch. "I want you to inquire about and locate a high-quality
house of—ah—illicit pleasures—"
At
Adams's raised eyebrows, the duke continued with even greater emphasis.
"That is correct. You heard me right, Robert. Locate a brothel—but only
one of the finest sort. We both know they exist, even down here, away from
London, but travel as far as you require. Your sources should provide you with
the proper information soon enough."
Adams
nodded, awaiting more.
"Once
contacted, inquire after the hire of a professional there who is young and guaranteeably
free from disease. In short, Robert, you are to hire me a clean
whore."
Adams
looked slightly uncomfortable. "Hire you, Your Grace...?"
"Dammit,
man, I mean for my grandson!" exploded the duke. "It's clear to me
now the boy lacks experience! I intend to rectify that, through the use of the
woman you will procure, and through doing so, demolish the only barrier to
seeing my grandson wed and on his way to producing heirs! Now have I
made myself clear?" In his excitement, the duke had become flushed in the
face, and by the time he had finished, he'd nearly collapsed over his desk in a
fit of helpless coughing.
Alarmed
by what he easily recognized as the old man's failing state, Adams rose and
worriedly peered over the duke's bent form. "Your Grace, you must not tax
yourself so! May I fetch someone? Are—are you all right?"
With
some effort, the duke pushed himself to an upright position and waved him off.
"I'm fine, Robert, or I shall be, just as soon as this business is taken
care of. Now, man, do I have your promise to do my bidding?"
Still
shaken by the evidence of greatly increased infirmity he'd just witnessed, and
unwilling to excite him further, Adams nodded anxiously. "At once, Your
Grace. You may depend on it."
* * * * *
Minutes
later, as Adams sat in the hired carriage that had taken him to Ravensford
Hall, he was deep in thought. What a muddle! If he hadn't been before, he was
now deeply convinced that his old friend and client was on his way out. It was
the only reason he could ascribe to the duke's succumbing to this preposterous
notion of his; not only was he physically failing, his mind must be weakening
as well.... Brett Westmont a virgin? Suddenly Adams began to laugh, the
source of the laughter so outrageous it soon reduced him to helpless tears and
prompted his driver to halt the carriage and inquire within as to whether
anything was amiss.
"Oh,
no, no, thank you, my good fellow , " answered Adams between
still only half-controlled outbursts of merriment. He gestured to the driver's
seat, visible through a small window inside the passenger compartment.
"You may proceed."
When
they were once again under way, Adams sobered enough to consider his
predicament. Over the years it had been his job to keep an eye on young Brett's
activities and periodically report to the duke on his findings. He had never
actually considered it spying, although he knew some would call it that.
Rather, he'd regarded it as a gladly assumed duty to put at ease the concerns
of an old friend, not to mention the
perhaps even fears involvement with them—albeit even for the respectable
and necessary pursuit of wedlock?"
"That
is my fear precisely," replied the duke. "Oh, I know it sounds
preposterous at first consideration, Robert, but, believe me, if you had seen
and heard his reactions to my suggestion that he take a wife... well, sir, it
would, perhaps, have begun not to sound so farfetched after all."
"I
see," said Adams, again with a greatly pensive air about him. "Very
well, Your Grace, then what is it you have in mind that might require my
services?"
"Your discreet services, as ever, Robert."
"As
ever, Your Grace," Adams nodded, smiling.
A
conspiratorial look entered the old man's eyes as he leaned forward over his
desktop. "A very simple thing, really," he said, his voice dropping
to a lower pitch. "I want you to inquire about and locate a high-quality
house of—ah—illicit pleasures—"
At
Adams's raised eyebrows, the duke continued with even greater emphasis.
"That is correct. You heard me right, Robert. Locate a brothel—but only
one of the finest sort. We both know they exist, even down here, away from
London, but travel as far as you require. Your sources should provide you with
the proper information soon enough."
Adams
nodded, awaiting more.
"Once
contacted, inquire after the hire of a professional there who is young and guaranteeably
free from disease. In short, Robert, you are to hire me a clean
whore."
Adams
looked slightly uncomfortable. "Hire you, Your Grace...?"
"Dammit,
man, I mean for my grandson!" exploded the duke. "It's clear to me
now the boy lacks experience! I intend to rectify that, through the use of the
woman you will procure, and through doing so, demolish the only barrier to
seeing my grandson wed and on his way to producing heirs! Now have I
made myself clear?" In his excitement, the duke had become flushed in the
face, and by the time he had finished, he'd nearly collapsed over his desk in a
fit of helpless coughing.
Alarmed
by what he easily recognized as the old man's failing state, Adams rose and
worriedly peered over the duke's bent form. "Your Grace, you must not tax
yourself so! May I fetch someone? Are—are you all right?"
With
some effort, the duke pushed himself to an upright position and waved him off.
"I'm fine, Robert, or I shall be, just as soon as this business is taken
care of. Now, man, do I have your promise to do my bidding?"
Still
shaken by the evidence of greatly increased infirmity he'd just witnessed, and
unwilling to excite him further, Adams nodded anxiously. "At once, Your
Grace. You may depend on it."
* * * * *
Minutes
later, as Adams sat in the hired carriage that had taken him to Ravensford
Hall, he was deep in thought. What a muddle! If he hadn't been before, he was
now deeply convinced that his old friend and client was on his way out. It was
the only reason he could ascribe to the duke's succumbing to this preposterous
notion of his; not only was he physically failing, his mind must be weakening
as well.... Brett Westmont a virgin? Suddenly Adams began to laugh, the
source of the laughter so outrageous it soon reduced him to helpless tears and
prompted his driver to halt the carriage and inquire within as to whether
anything was amiss.
"Oh,
no, no, thank you, my good fellow , " answered Adams between
still only half-controlled outbursts of merriment. He gestured to the driver's
seat, visible through a small window inside the passenger compartment.
"You may proceed."
When
they were once again under way, Adams sobered enough to consider his
predicament. Over the years it had been his job to keep an eye on young Brett's
activities and periodically report to the duke on his findings. He had never
actually considered it spying, although he knew some would call it that.
Rather, he'd regarded it as a gladly assumed duty to put at ease the concerns
of an old friend, not to mention the
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