Garden of Lies(22)

The man’s voice was thickened with drink. Rage seethed just beneath the surface.

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll scream,” the woman warned.

But she kept her tone low and something in it told Slater that she did not dare to shout for help.

“You stupid bitch,” the man snarled. “You know as well as I do that if you start yelling you’ll find yourself on the street. You’ll be taking your customers up against the wall in some filthy alley before you know it. Or maybe you’ll end up in the river like your friend a couple of weeks back, eh?”

The observation was punctuated by a bark of harsh laughter.

“Wouldn’t you care for another dance?” the woman asked, trying to sound flirtatious.

“I’ve had enough of dancing. Shut up. We’re going to get into my carriage and you will do exactly what I tell you.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t. None of the women from the Pavilion can leave the grounds. You know that, sir. The rules—”

“Don’t quote the damn rules to me. You may look and sound like a lady but we both know you’re just a cheap whore.”

“I’m going back into the ballroom,” the woman declared with shaky conviction. “No, you can’t force me to leave the . . . mmph.”

Slater was quite certain that the man had slapped a hand over the woman’s mouth.

“I’ll teach you to defy me,” the drunken man raged.

Slater moved out from behind the cover of a hedge and saw the pair. They were dark shadows in the fog. The man was struggling to control the woman. He had an arm around her throat, choking her. She fought desperately but it was clear she was overpowered.

Neither of the two noticed him until he gripped the assailant’s shoulder.

“Let her go,” Slater said quietly.

The attacker was so startled he released the woman and whirled around. He stared into the glary light, trying to see Slater’s face but that was not possible. Slater was careful to keep his back to the light, leaving his features in deep shadow.

“Leave us,” the attacker hissed. “She’s mine. Go find yourself another whore. I’ve got plans for this one.”

“She’s not interested in your plans,” Slater said.

“You can’t have her.” The man peered at him, trying to see more clearly in the dim light. “Are you one of the bloody guards? If so, you can take yourself off immediately. This does not concern you.”

“I’m afraid you are mistaken.”

The assailant swung one fist in a wild, awkward fashion. Slater easily ducked the blow and came back with a short, hard punch to the gut. He followed it with a quick chopping blow against the side of the man’s head.

The drunkard collapsed, unconscious, on the lawn.

Slater looked at the woman. She watched him warily.

“Thank you,” she said. She sounded grateful but very cautious. “He wanted me to violate the rules. He was trying to take me away in a private carriage. We are not supposed to leave the grounds with any of the guests, as I’m sure you are aware. Mrs. Wyatt is very firm on that point.”

Slater nodded and walked to look down at the unconscious man.

“Who is he?”

“His name is Hurst,” the woman said. She hesitated. “You’re not one of the guests, are you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Because I’m not dressed appropriately?”

“That and the fact that you’re not acting as if you’ve drunk any of the ambrosia this evening. Who are you?”

“A curious spectator.”

“Curiosity can be dangerous here at the Olympus Club.”

“Is that what they call this place?” Slater asked.

“You didn’t know that?”

“I do now. May I ask your name?”

The woman hesitated. “I suppose you have a right to it after what you just did for me. You may call me Evangeline.”

He smiled a little. Everyone kept secrets, he thought. A professional courtesan would almost certainly have a few.

“I assume that Evangeline is your stage name?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, silently defying him to demand more.

“It is a pretty name,” he said. “Was Hurst drunk on that ambrosia you mentioned?”

“Of course,” she said. She waved one gloved hand to indicate the vast gardens. “They all are. The guests enjoy the drug in various forms. It is added to the liquor. Sometimes they smoke it in the form of cigars. The Olympus is the only place in London where it is served, you see. For the most part the ambrosia invigorates the men to the point where all they can think about is finding a female—willing or unwilling. If they take a sufficient quantity they usually enjoy wondrous visions and a great sense of pleasure. But sometimes the hallucinations can be quite intense and frightening.” She glanced at the unmoving man on the ground. “And occasionally the drug affects men the way it did Hurst tonight.”

“The ambrosia makes some of the men violent?”

“Yes.” Evangeline peered at Slater, trying to see him against the glare of the light behind him. “You likely saved me from a beating or worse.” There was a shudder in her voice. “Hurst was behaving very oddly. He is normally a quiet little man but tonight he flew into a rage. Perhaps he took too much of the drug. Some of the other Nymphs have reported similar reactions when their guests overindulged.” She paused. “I should not be speaking with you like this. We are only allowed to talk to men who have been introduced to us by Mrs. Wyatt.”