Yearn by Tobsha Learner

the event. Whom, if anyone, could he trust to take part in such a potentially dangerous ritual? Just then he was reminded of Prudence, his paramour at Golden Square. For the right price she would play a part. She had already proven herself a mistress of all kinds of salacious games—the kind of role play found betwixt man and woman, games that turned nature on its head and always excited. She would be the perfect mistress of ceremonies for such an event. And it would be easy for her to recruit a young girl of her profession. But who could play the other man’s role? He had to be handsome, open-minded in his lovemaking, and desirous of other men as well as women. Just then an early blackbird began whistling outside D’Arcy’s window. The birdsong immediately brought to mind the cheerful whistling of Harry the young chimney sweep.
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    â€œYou want me to do what?” Prudence, known as Mademoiselle Inferno amongst certain members of Parliament, looked indignant; indignant as is possible clad in a corset, stockings, riding crop, and short fur cape. D’Arcy had disturbed her at work, insisting that he needed to speak to her directly despite the fact that she was with one of her more particular gentleman friends (as her maid put it). The prostitute, although well fond of D’Arcy, who was one of her younger and certainly more handsome clients, was not happy at the interruption.
    â€œIt is a magic rite, an ancient religious ritual, Prudence. We will be the first in England to have executed it,” D’Arcy clarified enthusiastically, swept away by his own rhetoric.
    â€œI wouldn’t be too sure of that, Mr. D’Arcy. I’ve had some very peculiar libertines in my time. I just never thought you were inclined that way.”
    â€œPrudence, this isn’t just some simple orgy, this is genuine magic-making—communion with the raw power of sex itself.”
    â€œPlease, keep your voice down, Mr. D’Arcy. I am a Catholic, I’ll have you know. I don’t hold stock with dancing with the devil nor doing anything else with him. I have my reputation to think of.” Prudence, who liked to think of herself as a cut above other working girls, pursed her lips.
    â€œTrust me, Prudence. This isn’t devil worship or witchcraft. This ritual is from the South Sea Islands, from a land the French once described as La Nouvelle Cythere, an island where a woman with your skills would be considered a queen and welcomed in the highest realms of power.”
    Intrigued, the working girl looked up. “Nice island that would be—where did you say it was?”
    â€œDoes it matter? Prudence, I am making you an offer of a lifetime. Who knows what might happen if it works? I’m also offering you twenty crowns.”
    For the first time in their conversation Prudence looked interested, her pretty face sharpening as she made some quick mental calculations. “Twenty-five . . . and ten for my . . . ‘assistant.’ . . .”
    D’Arcy inhaled sharply. Twenty crowns was double her usual fee and thirty-five was exorbitant. He simply didn’t have the money. Calculating wildly, he realized he had no choice; he would have to visit at least two of his more sympathetic unmarried relatives to borrow the money and live off cockles and cheap beer for the rest of the month. But he was committed: he was determined to execute the ritual at any cost. “Done. There’s just one other point: there is another man involved.”
    â€œOh saucy, Mr. D’Arcy, but I suppose two men and two girls could have a lot of fun. And it’s lucky for you that I do like the occasional tryst with a pretty young girl. Still, servicing three is a lot more work. Is he a reasonable chap?”
    â€œI think you’ll like him. He’s young, handsome, and clean enough.”
    â€œAnd you’ll be the master of