How to Catch a Sinful Marquess - Amy Rose Bennett Page 0,110
low whistle as he climbed from the hackney coach with Hamish. “So this is where Euphemia Harrington is currently working,” he said, looking up at the fine town house with its pillared portico, white-bricked facade, and neat brass plate proclaiming it was Birchmore House. “I must say, my friend, from what I’ve heard, this bawdy house is not for the faint of heart.”
“Aye, I know,” agreed Hamish grimly as he pushed his beaver hat firmly onto his head. It was well-known in certain circles that this was an exclusive brothel of questionable practices. “And believe me, I’m more than happy you’ve come along to lend your moral support, or a helping hand if need be. I don’t anticipate there’ll be any trouble, but one never knows. Especially in an establishment such as this.”
When his inquiry agent, Mr. Kent, informed Hamish earlier this morning that his former mistress Mia Harrington was one of the prostitutes currently on staff here, Hamish was not only surprised but dismayed for her. Hamish rather suspected Mia would not have willingly chosen this life for herself. Indeed, her heartrending act of entrusting Tilda to his care all but confirmed it.
Mr. Kent also confirmed something that Olivia had shared all those weeks ago at Gretna Green—that Birchmore House was her cousin’s brothel of choice. Just thinking about Felix de Vere being anywhere near Olivia or Mia—or any female, for that matter—made his blood boil.
“Shall we go inside?” asked Max, pulling Hamish from his dark thoughts. The duke glanced up and down the square before unnecessarily adjusting the fit of his perfectly tailored coat and his own top hat. “I, for one, am not keen to be lingering out the front of Birchmore House in broad daylight. Who knows what may end up in the papers.”
“I agree,” replied Hamish as he mounted the stairs in a few determined strides and rapped sharply on the shiny black door. “Let’s do this.”
It was opened by a ham-fisted footman. After subjecting them to a brief but thorough perusal from beneath a heavy brow, he ushered them into an entry hall, which was a study in crimson and gold, and dark wood. An oversized chandelier threatened to crash down upon their heads at any moment.
The thuggish footman relieved them of their hats. “If you’d like to take a seat, my good sirs.” He gestured at a nearby velvet covered settee. “I’ll just ring for Madam Birchmore.”
“Madam Birchmore?” murmured Max as the footman turned away. “That can’t be her real name.”
Hamish’s mouth twitched with a wry smile. “I agree. I suppose she thinks it’s good for business.”
Just then, a highly polished door that was flanked by a pair of large potted palms opened to reveal a petite yet wiry woman with dark hair scraped tightly into a no-nonsense bun. Attired in a severe gown of dark green wool, she looked more like the prim headmistress of a young ladies’ academy than the proprietress of a notorious brothel. “Gentlemen, do come in,” she said, stepping back to admit them both. “I’m Madam Birchmore.”
Once they were settled in comfortable wingback chairs before the madam’s desk, her sharp gaze settled on Max and then Hamish. “So what can I do for both of you today? I’m sure you’re already aware that my establishment caters to the needs of all gentlemen, whatever they may be . . .” She pushed a slim leather-bound book across the blotter toward them. “This is our bill of fare. If you’d like to take a look, then tell me what type of service whets your appetite, I’ll be sure to find just the right girl for you. Oh, and as I’m sure you’ve heard, absolute discretion is assured.”
Ignoring the “menu,” Hamish cleared his throat. “Actually, I already know what I want. I’d like to see Mia.” His inquiry agent had informed him that Euphemia was currently using the shortened version of her name.
Madam Birchmore arched a thin brow. “Would you now? I must say, our Mistress Mia is quite popular at the moment. But you’re in luck. As it’s early in the day, she’s currently free.”
“Excellent.”
“It will cost you double if there’s two of you though,” she added in a steel-laced tone that brooked no argument.
“I’m just here to watch,” replied Max with suitably withering ducal boredom.
Madam Birchmore laced her fingers together on the desk. “And that’s your prerogative, sir. But it will still cost you double.”
Once a price was settled upon for an hour-long appointment with Mistress Mia, and Hamish