I was most randy for her and it was frustrating that here I was going up in the world, to a station fitting my birth, and for the first time ever struggling to seduce the wench in question. Of course she was the first princess I’d ever set my attentions on and one of the few who wasn’t a hooker, which meant I’d had to adapt quick to the rules of ‘courting.’
As it turns out, you’re supposed to make conversation and get to know the girl, whilst trying not to say anything that might forever disgust her, such as the truth, and most importantly of all, never, under any circumstances, disclose your penchant for the bawdy house. Oh I’m sure she knew, because I was certain Brunch, if he was worth his pay, had learned all about my habits - He wasn’t about to take a chance with his charge after all, considering who she was, and there were moments I panicked over just how deep he may delve. But I soon dismissed that as paranoia, because there was only one man alive who had any idea whatsoever about the truth of my rise to prominence and he wasn’t stupid enough to talk, yet too stupid to be believed anyway. All the rest were dead, which meant Brunch could search all he liked, he’d find nothing, nothing apart from my predisposition to whoring, which on its own was hardly liable to dissuade Gertrude from liking me.
I’d sent Smith, I forget which one, to put a card in for me at St James’s Palace and within two days the invite was returned when I received a confirmation note at Hazlitt’s reception. In fact I happened to be in the bar at the time, enjoying an ale, when Brunch lumbered in to leave it and the minute the ample German left, I was at the front desk demanding the message.
It would be another Hyde Park picnic tomorrow and as I retook my seat, I found myself caressing her beautiful scripture with a finger, for whatever reason I didn’t know and I wasn’t sure I liked it either. Recently she’d been on my mind too much and it’d affected my habits. For one, my food didn’t taste the same, if I chose to eat at all. I found myself comparing other women to her and noticing how barely the one matched up. I’d not been whoring in nigh on three weeks, which was quite absurd and had even rejected the advances of one of my in house staff. But most of all it was how everything I did, making vast sums of tin, was all with her in mind. I wanted to impress the girl, to show her the man I was, because I was rich and that was all that mattered. And the next day, as I approached her by the Serpentine, I was determined that today things would be different, a big fat German watching over her or not.
“Ach, mein Strappy,” she held out a delicate hand for me to kiss which I did, sniffing her skin and placing all my being into my lips as I slathered my tongue over her knuckles; three, four, five, six and Brunch reminded me of his presence by clearing his throat, as if that were necessary, for I could smell the garlic from where I leaned forward.
“Fräulein.” I pulled away and cast an agitated eye toward the oaf. “Herr Brunch, I see you’ll be joining us today?”
He looked at me as if I’d gone mad but said nothing as he subtly tapped the cane against his ham.
“Sit down, sit down, Jack.” She tugged me by the sleeve and I succumbed, half distracted by her bodyguard who remained stood not two paces away, glaring down at me, arms folded. It was a beautiful sunny day and she’d dressed as scantily as I’d yet seen her, revealing an inch or so of ankle where her dress ended and where today she’d neglected to don her hose. “Something zee matter?” And as she caught me ogling, she knew too the trouble it caused - The little minx.
“Nein, Fräulein,” I nodded at the river, “I was looking at the swans. Don’t you agree how capital it is how they’re always in twos?” I shook my head in wonderment. “No third wheels, you see…no fat swans trying to come between the happy pair.” I braced myself for the inevitable kick from the man, but he seemed not to understand the subtle and incredibly clever line I’d prepared earlier.
She craned her neck for a better look. “Zats because svans mate for life, Jack. And if zer vas such a ssing as a svan marriage, zen I’m sure zey have zem.” She leaned across the English imitation pretzels and schnitzel and pumpernickel and stollen and wurst to squeeze my wrist.
What in the blazes was she getting on at?…swan marriage indeed. And then they drifted over to quack for some crumbs, which they wouldn’t get from me.
“In Deutschland, vee eat svans.” It was one of the few things Lardy had uttered in five courtships, and it didn’t surprise me one bit - The barbarians.
I ignored him, too incensed I was with his overbearing company and instead seized an apple, taking a large bite.
She perked up however, “ist das so Hermann? I vill have to try it sometime.”
“Jawohl.” The smell of pork wafted downwards and I blanched. Oh, he wasn’t eating at the moment and I’d long become accustomed to the man’s natural scent, or so I thought.
“I thought you didn’t like English sausages?” I squinted upwards, to where the brute stood blocking the sun.
He hesitated, evidently not having understood the insult. “Wahr, zey taste like horse meat and sawdust.”
Gertrude slapped me on the wrist, “zats because zey probably are horse meat and sawdust and Jack, play nice with Hermann.”
It was hard to play nice with Hermann knowing he wasn’t going anywhere and I looked forlornly at the coaches, dozens of them lined up along nearby West Coach Drive, any one of which could whisk us away to Rochester or Soho and even now as the swans wrapped their long necks about each other, my bird was gently pulling up the hem of her dress to reveal another half inch of flesh so I could now see two or three inches above the ankle bone.
She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Have you ever been to a vedding, Jack?”
In an effort to distract my mind, I’d been plunging into the odd little balls of pork she’d brought. “A vedding? What are you talking about?” I asked, spitting little bits of pink over the rug.
“You English menn are so stupid. But I ssink zat ssings in England are not so different to how ssings are in Deutschland, no?” After a half minute of my fumbling around with a blank expression she sighed, lowered her head and began playing with her food.
I tossed her a pretzel. “Eat something,” you’ll need your strength for later, “this German food ain’t so bad once you get used to it.”
She looked up. “You should come and try it in Deutschland rather zan eat zis cheap English counterfeit rubbish.”
I’d had a belly full of travelling and wasn’t about to risk it again. “No thanks,” I laughed, “London is the place I find most agreeable.”
“You really are an uncultured English barbarian,” her eyes shimmered for some reason, even though this was normal to-ing and fro-ing for us, “and I don’t know vhat I vas expecting with your heroic reputation, but you know nossing about how to treat a lady.”
I’d had enough of this and threw down my sausage, sensing Brunch stir. “What are you talking about? I’m here aren’t I? I’ve given you my time. I’ve eaten your food, shown my interest. And what have I got to show for it? A piece of ankle and a slap across the face when I pulled you behind that tree…oh, aye, Brunch…didn’t know about that one did you? And quite honestly, miss…”
His shadow loomed over me. “…Herr Strapper, you vill refer to zee lady as Fräulein and you vill not use zat tone with her.”
It wasn’t like me, especially considering his size and proximity and the fact I was in no position, sitting on the rug, to flee should he make a move in aggression, but it had been a long frustrating time coming and I just lost all control. “And you, you fat German hog…I’ve had a bellyful of you and your unwanted company. It’s not natural, confound it…I’ve heard of chaperones and can even understand it with men like me about, but you’re supposed to at least allow me a quick feel here and there…to keep me interested if nothing else.”
She gasped and her voice sounded pinched. “Jack, vat has got into you?” I’d been on the verge of standing, for some unknown reason, perhaps to show my displeasure in a more physical way, not that I was about to a
ccost Brunch or anything so insane, but she tugged me down by the sleeve. “Jack, stop zis, please.”
Brunch clenched his fists, his face turning the colour of a pig’s slapped arse. “Herr Strapper, you vill settle yourself or deal with zee consequences.”
I scrunched up my serviette. “I will settle myself when you go for a long plod around the Serpentine, you big oaf. Just ten minutes alone with the girl I’m trying to seduce…is that really too much to ask?” My whole body vibrated and then I found a rare moment of bravery, or stupidity, by pointing over the other side of the river. “Just leave will you! Look, I can see a sausage vendor hiding in the trees. What the deuce?”
She let out a wail as I was literally wrenched up by the collar to find myself dangling in the air and floating toward the Serpentine. Thankfully Brunch didn’t throw me in and set me down when we were too distant for Gertrude to hear.
I jerked my arm away and loosened the buttons atop my tunic lest they constrict my oxygen supply. “Do you have any idea who you’ve just manhandled? I’m the hero of Britannia, damn your eyes. Just you wait, sir…I’ll set my regiment on you…no, no…the nation.”
Fluid poured from his face and he’d gained a pimple or two from the effort. “Herr Strapper, I don’t care vhat you do to me, but you vill not…how do you say?…besmirch zee name of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, or that of mein Fräulein.”
I shot her a glance from over the grass to where she kneeled twisting at her necklace. “Oh to the blazes with it, man, I’ve never known anything like it. How’s the girl supposed to lift her skirt when you’re about?” I was in a rare state, had lost control over my words and fully expected my thrashing to begin in earnest, but thankfully, I didn’t think he understood the expression.
On the contrary, he brushed at his tweed jacket and again wiped a kerchief across his snout. “Herr Strapper, ass I already told you, I know vhat you are and vhat you menn are like but you can believe me vhen I say zat I vill never permit you to be alone with my charge unless…”
“…Unless what, you big fat German idiot, spit it out.”
“Herr Strapper, mein Fräulein is to be preserved for her vedding day. Ach, so if you vish to be intimate mit her zen you’ll first have to take your vows.” He continued wiping himself whilst all I could do was stare on aghast. “Zis is vhat you vanted, no? Perhaps you should not court a lady and zen complain vhen she acts like a lady.”
I let out a bark, recalling her routine exposing of copious ankle, the repeated innuendos, teasing, the way she dealt with the prince. “She’s no lady.” I didn’t mean it, but I was so incensed I worried how far I was capable of pushing Brunch, as well as the possible consequences of doing so.
He sighed and thankfully remained calm. “Mein Fräulein is destined to ved a great mann of England, Herr Strapper, to bond our two nations togezzer, and if he is not a prince, zen you vill probably do instead and if you choose to break ssings off, zen zer are ozzer princes, earls and lords who have all expressed zer interest. And who, might I ask Herr Strapper, vould like zer future vife spoiled before zee vedding night? So, let me just…how do you say…reiterate zat if you vant relations mit her, zen first you must marry her. And, even should you succeed in ruining her, vhich you von’t, but even if you did, Herr Strapper, zen it vould be pistols at dawn for you and I.” He leaned back, pushing his lard forth, revealing the smug expression over his pink face.
“Pistols at dawn?” I scratched my cheek and again wondered how much digging into my history he’d done. “You must be mad. Surely you know my reputation?” Clearly I was beginning to believe my own legend.
He nodded. “Ya, you can rest assured, ve know all about you. But let me just say zat I fought in zee Schleswig-Holstein var and helped capture zee fortress at Rendsburg and vas even considered zee eighth best shot in zee Guards Grenadiers.” His smugness only increased with this latest damned news. “Perhaps you ssort zat zee House of Saxe-Coburg und Gotha vould employ any old vandering gypsy to protect zer heiress?”
I felt the overwhelming yearning to stamp my feet. It was all so unfair. Even if I did get my chance alone with Gertrude, which I wouldn’t, but even if I did, I’d be dead - And she wasn’t worth that, no matter how I felt about her. And the threat to my person had been insinuated most clear here, which I did not like one bit.
I clenched my fists, my entire body shaking from a mixture of anger and frustration. “And you’re only telling me this now? Why not last month? I can only assume the minx must like torturing me.”
He tucked away his sweat sodden kerchief, clasping his meat hooks about his ample girth. “Herr Strapper, you really are as stupid as zee lady says. Vhat more must she do? She only gave up a prince for you. Vhat are you vaiting for? Perhaps for some ozzer, dashing, rich young lord to come along and sveep her off her feet, ja? Most menn vould have asked by now?”
“Asked? Asked what you swine?”
After pausing for a moment’s incredulity, he shook his head and told me in an impatient tone. “Ask zee girl to marry you?”
There are moments in life when you hear something so ridiculous and so unexpected that for a while, all you can do is stand and wonder if what you think you heard is what the man actually said. And as the seconds elapsed and it dawned that the man might not be joking, I had no option other than to express my natural reaction.
“Ask her to marry me? You must be insane, Brunch.” I shouted, unsure and uncaring whether she heard from where she now stood, under a tree, clutching at her belly and probably weeping. When I’d met her, all I wanted was a quick tumble and would’ve been happy to do it in the bloody carriage, but now here I was, being pressed into marriage, of all things. Marriage! It would destroy my entire lifestyle and vanquish the one thing I took any real pleasure from - And for what? This thing called love? The idea was so ridiculous, so absurd, all I could do was think about my father and how he’d kept control his entire life - Right until that is, he fell in love. And how did that work out for him?
“Well the lady will not see me in a padded cell, no sir, so you can keep it for all I care.”
I took one final look at Gertrude and she shouted over the distance.
“Jack? Don’t go…please.”
And in the moment, I half considered not going, because to see her anguish hurt me too. But to stay, to apologise, to make things right and dare I say it, to make myself happy, would’ve taken more courage than I ever possessed. No - The easier thing was to do what I did and before I even knew what was happening, I was rushing toward a nearby carriage, with its opened door and gurning coachman, her cries ringing in my head. And as I entered and the man closed the door and I felt the tears rolling down my cheek, I knew one thing - I’d never let this affliction called love affect me again.
TEN MINUTES later I was dropped off in Soho Square with only one thing on my mind.
I was in a rare state and remembered I’d been as good as swindled out of a small fortune by fate and a duo of French hussies. Well, Strappy was back and in need of a good tupping to boot and this time, I’d brought my riding crop.
The eyes of the harlot behind The White House front desk were automatically drawn to the thrasher, which I struck against my opened palm. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes…the last time I was present within this establishment, a raid transpired, no less, perpetrated by the bloody peelers and consequently, and in part due to my subsequent actions of fleeing through an opened window, I now find myself owed, by yourselves, one appointment, gratis if you wouldn’t mind, with two French trollops…the ones who go by the names of…” I squinted and looked into space, “…well you know who I mean. I want them, the Silver Room, and I’d like them presently, if you’d be so kind.” I stepped back and nodded, satisfied I’d made my point.
Her quill had been hovering over a piece of card whilst she regarded me with scepticism. “Sir, I’m sorry but all prior unredeemed credits have been voided.”
“Unredeemed credits?” I almost brandished
my crop at the woman, but thought there’d likely be a trio of burly security wardens in the room to her rear, so I forgot that idea. “There were never any credits…weren’t you listening? It was the old bill who began charging through the place.” I leaned over the desk and peered into the tiny room beyond. “Where’s Mr Holloway or Margaret? Margaret!” I called as she jumped back.
“Sir, I’m very sorry, but the establishment is under new ownership so I suggest you take it up with him and Margaret is now Ursula the Urinator.” She tried to regain her assertiveness but I wasn’t having any of this.
“New ownership? Bring him here then and I’ll tell him what’s what. Two French trollops don’t come cheap, you know, and I’ll be damned before you short change me.” If only I hadn’t been feeling an odd combination of randy and vengeful I’d have slammed the door on the way out and instead frequented one of the dozens of other similar establishments within the square. But I needed to have Gertrude rattled out of me quickly and it was the two Frenchies I wanted to take it out on.
She stepped forward again, possibly after seeing something within me that emboldened her. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, but the average brothel madam was more worldly wise than Marco Polo - It came from dealing with miscreants like me every day and I now doubted even the combination of my name and crop could dissuade her. “That won’t be possible, the owner has other businesses to consider and is rarely ever here, so you must deal with me as though I were the owner himself.”
I stepped back. “Well, a discount then, perhaps?”
She folded her arms and stared me down. “Usual price or take your patronage elsewhere.”
If only I had. “Damn your eyes…bloody trollop.” Of course I could afford it and more, but it was the principal and, at the time, at least, I’d wanted a confrontation. Aye, yes I did have them…principles, I mean…and they usually manifested whenever I was being swindled or at the bawdy house. Being swindled at the bawdy house was something new altogether. But I remembered Gertrude and how she’d treated me, stringing me along before trying to trick me into marriage and the next thing I knew I was bringing out my purse and handing over the gold. “Just give me a standard room…no silly theme or any of that rot.” I was in the process of turning around and stamping toward the lounge when she called me back.
Not Dead Yet: A Zombie Apocalypse Series - Books 1 - 2 Page 23