"In a way. Actually, it belongs to Baron Winthrop, the man who… er, pays for my mother's wardrobe, lodging, and so on… you know."
"Oh." Mira reflected on the information for a few seconds. No wonder, she thought with a sense of irony, that Rosalie had not been revolted by Mira's reputation of being Lord Sackville's mistress. When one's own mother was in a similar position, it was difficult to cast stones.
"Here we are. The Savoy Stairs," Rosalie announced, pulling the horse to a halt. They were near the edge of the Thames River, which slapped gently at the banks and emitted a repugnant smell. Mira twisted her head around to look at the ruins of a castle beside them; the walls of it were three feet thick.
"Why did Brummell want to meet us here?" she asked in distaste, shivering slightly.
"I requested that we meet here. It's the most convenient for him, since this is where he'll pass through on his way to Threadneedle—"
"This seems like a very unsavory place," Mira observed uneasily. "Wasn't the street that we passed back there the Strand? Isn't that where all the prostitutes go to—?"
"Yes. But we're very close to the West End, and there are Charleys around to protect us—and really, we're not far from my mother's terrace. We're meeting Brummell here because he is coming across the river in a tilt."
"One of those little blue boats?" Mira asked, unable to picture the famed Brummell huddled in one of the cramped little water taxis.
"Yes," Rosalie replied, staring at the dark blur ofthe river water that stretched out before them. "Look over there—right there a ship called the Folly was anchored about fifty years ago. People would take the tilts out to visit it. It was a floating 'den of iniquity' —drink, music, harlots, curtained rooms—no decent women were allowed, but of course many young lords went slumming there." She smiled mischievously. "Rand said that many a Berkeley had been a guest on the Folly, but of course the rest of the family denies it."
Mira smiled also, about to ask another question, when a distant crack, like the firing of a gun, popped in the silence. The noise startled her, and she clutched her diamond-shaped reticule uneasily.
"What do you have in there?" Rosalie asked.
"Nothing I'd care to have to use tonight," Mira replied grimly. Unlike Rosalie, she had had personal acquaintance with some of the worst parts of London. Yes, they were near well-to-do streets lined with bow windows, lamps, and fancy colonnades, but they were also perilously near alleyways and rows of slums that oozed with several different kinds of vermin, including the human variety. Rosalie could afford to be nonchalant about the situation, having never known the kind of danger that Mira had been exposed to. Aside from a few brushes with adventure that had all turned out well, Rosalie had been sheltered and well-protected. In fact, Rosalie possessed a belief in her own invincibility which disturbed Mira more than a little. Confidence was sometimes helpful, but overconfidence was very hazardous indeed. "Presently I'm wondering if we haven't been rather foolhardy in refusing an escort," Mira confessed. "It's dangerous this close to the river. It's too dark to see well, and I don't care for all these shadowy places—"
"We're perfectly safe," Rosalie asserted spiritedly. "Besides, I don't know of anyone whom I would trust with knowledge of this. Sometimes the people you have the greatest confidence in might be the first to betray you.""That's true enough," Mira said, her voice quiet. "I just hope Brummell will arrive soon, that's all." "He will."
Goodman's Tavern was especially raucous tonight, filled with an intoxicating combination of saucy barmaids and undiluted liquor. Alec walked in, ignoring the way the soles of his boots stuck to the unwashed wooden floor. Goodman's was a popular place to go slumming, having just the right amount of atmosphere and yet located in a place that wasn't as rife with crime as other parts of the city. Carr was sitting alone at a table, surrounded by a slew of empty glasses and opened bottles. He looked up without surprise as Alec sat down and slouched in a comfortably worn chair.
"So you decided to join me," Carr said, carefully arranging the glasses before him into a wall, and Alec regarded him darkly.
"I came here primarily for a drink. Not your company."
"Here," Carr replied, handing him a glass. "I think this one is close to being clean. Or would you rather wait until a barmaid comes to serve you? There are some very nice-looking—"
"No. God, no more women tonight," Alec muttered, taking the glass and examining it dully. "Do you have any brandy in your collection?"