The Steampunk Trilogy by Paul di Filippo Page B

taken, glasses of champagne were proffered on a golden salver, and soon Cowperthwait and McGroaty were seated in the large ballroom, watching couples dance to the stately strains of Mozart flowing from a gilt pianoforte, and eyeing appreciatively the corseted trollops sprawled on velvet chaises around the four walls.
    The only incident momentarily to jar Cowperthwait’s composure occurred when he thought he detected a flash of reflected candlelight in an oddly fluted piece of silver borne aloft at nose-height across the crowded room. But if the glint indeed indicated the presence of Lord Chuting-Payne, that spectre did not materialize any more solidly, and Cowperthwait, by dint of his mental discipline, soon succeeded in banishing such fears.
    Cowperthwait switched from champagne to Madeira, and the room soon took on an ethereal glow. The candelabra appeared to waver and flare, like will-o’-the-wisps. McGroaty disappeared at one point, presumably to display his Chickasaw scars to some lucky roundheels, and Cowperthwait found himself nodding off to sleep. He dozed for awhile and awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in ages. It was at this point that Madame de Mallet approached him.
    Tall and buxom, swamped with jewels, perhaps overly made-up for some tastes, in the fashion of an older period, de Mallet was a well-preserved seventy. Rumor had it that she had been a chambermaid to Marie Antoinette (and sometime bedpartner of Louis), and had barely escaped the Revolution with her life.
    “ M’sieu Cowperthwait, may I interest you in a lady tonight? We have a new addition to the house.” Here de Mallet bent lower, and spoke in a whisper. “She is someone tr ès spécial, un bijoux. I do not offer her to tout le monde , only my favorites. I can guarantee that it will be the chance of a lifetime.”
    Cowperthwait was momentarily intrigued, but, not wishing to disturb his serenity with the rigors of carnal love, he ultimately declined. With a shrug, Madame de Mallet said, “ bien ,as you wish.”
    Feeling a pressure of a different sort emanating from his bladder, however, Cowperthwait said, “I could make use of a chamber pot, though.”
    Madame de Mallet waved her beringed hand airily. “You are familiar with the house. But piddle,” she advised, “with discretion and a minimum of noise, please. La chambre à c ôté du pissoir ,it is occupied.”
    Cowperthwait got unsteadily to his feet. He made his tipsy way up the grand staircase, colliding off various couples in an illustration of Brownian motion which appealed to him.
    In the second-floor corridor he began counting doors, but soon lost track. Cowperthwait opened what he recalled to be the correct door.
    It was not.
    Two women were in the room. One, clothed in a plain chemise, sat at a veneered secretary, her back to Cowperthwait as she vigorously scribbled in a small book. Upon hearing the door open, she cradled her arms around the diary, as if to shield its contents, and dropped her face down upon it.
    The second woman, a veritable Amazon, filled the rumpled bed with her Junoesque naked body. Lying spread-eagled on her back, hands clasped behind and pillowing her head, she wore on her features an expression most obviously betokening sexual satiation.
    “Otto!” exclaimed Cowperthwait.
    Lady Cornwall was not embarrassed. “Yes, Cosmo, it’s I. How may I help you?”
    Cowperthwait sank into a handy chair and held his head in his hands. “A daughter of Lesbos. No wonder you had no interest in my proposal. I should have guessed, from your mannish ways. How convenient for your perversion, you keeping all those young helpless chicks as your wards—”
    Lady Cornwall leapt from bed and slapped Cowperthwait across the face. “How dare you impugn my motives! My girls are treated as chastely as nuns. Why do you think I’m buying my love in this place, if you imagine I sate my desires at the school?”
    Lady Cornwall sat down on the bed and began to