A Fashionable Indulgence (Society of Gentlemen #1) by Kj Charles Page B

you draw Maltravers’s fire.”
    “I put Alvanley in his way. Are we going to Quex’s?”
    “We thought so,” Julius said. “Will Dominic join us?”
    “I believe not,” Richard said. “It’s his, uh, regularly occupied night.”
    “So nice for him to be regularly occupied,” Francis remarked blandly, and Harry felt Julius shake with silent laughter next to him. Freddy strolled on ahead with Ash, oblivious.
    “In any case,” Richard said, refusing to be drawn, “the suppers are superior at Quex’s, so let us proceed.”
    “Suppers.” Julius spoke with the scorn of the naturally slender to the much larger man. “At this time of night. You’ll look like Alvanley before you’re fifty.”
    The spirited discussion provoked by this remark lasted until they reached Quex’s, which was at the other end of St. James’s Street.
Gentlemen out on the town,
Harry thought, keeping up his end of the conversation almost at random.
Six well-dressed, well-spoken gentlemen. Lords and Sirs and wealthy Misters. And I was a radical bred, and Ash was ploughing Francis over a desk while Julius and I kissed behind a curtain….
    Are any of us gentlemen? Any of them?
    “Wake up, dear boy, we’re here.” Julius’s voice recalled his attention. “Quex’s. Your new home from home.”
    Quex’s was a smaller house, without the imposing columns and curlicues that marked White’s. A footman called out to the house as they approached, opening the door, and a black man in a dark green tailcoat stepped forward to greet Richard as they entered.
    “My lord. We’re privileged to have your company. Lord Gabriel, Mr. Norreys, Mr. Webster, good evening.” The major-domo glanced at Harry. He was very dark, far more so than most of the men Harry knew who were called black, with a deep, educated voice. “Is this Mr. Harry Vane, Lord Richard?”
    “Indeed it is. Thank you, Shakespeare. If we could have Quex?” The major-domo lifted an authoritative hand, a footman leapt to obey, and within seconds, a small thin man approached, walking with a slight limp. He had smooth features of a slightly effeminate cast, and shrewd, bright eyes that scanned Harry as though memorizing him. He wore a coat of identical cut and shade to the first man.
    “Quex, who runs the house along with Shakespeare. My cousin Harry Vane.” Richard indicated Harry, who very nearly found himself bowing. He caught the motion almost immediately, turned it to a polite nod, and was aware of Julius’s gaze. Amused? Annoyed? He didn’t dare look.
    “Harry is welcome to the private rooms as a guest,” Richard went on. Mr. Quex bowed his acknowledgment, and gave Harry a swift scrutiny that made him feel more exposed than any meeting so far this evening.
    “A pleasure to welcome you, sir. Do ask Mr. Shakespeare or myself if you’ve any special requests. The house is yours, gentlemen.” Mr. Quex had rather a high voice, laced with the London street, jolting Harry to memories that seemed unreal. Both men bowed again to Richard and his guests, moving in perfect synchrony, and stepped back to admit the party.
    “I say, you’re fortunate,” Ash muttered. “They barely let me in here when I was new to London. Oh, there goes Francis to the tables, excuse me.”
    That left him with Julius, following Richard to the supper room, since Harry agreed strongly with his cousin on the subject of meals. “Who are those fellows?” he asked as they made their way through. “Quex and—was his name Shakespeare?”
    “I’m afraid so, yes. They run this place and are waxing very wealthy on the proceeds, since this is one of the deeper hells. Do
not
play cards here without Francis at your back. And be aware that Shakespeare and Quex are Cyprian’s allies, Richard’s omniscient valet, you know, and he reports to his master. If you must misbehave, do it elsewhere.”
    It sounded like Bonaparte’s Paris. “Is that how they knew who I was?”
    “Doubtless. Dominic says that if the