The Friday Society Read Free Page A

wasn’t feeling half as confident as she pretended to be. This place freaked her out. Though she’d rescued Lord White many, many times, this was the first time she’d been anywhere quite so . . . skeevy. Usually opium dens were simple places. A front room for money to exchange hands, a back room to get high. Really a very straightforward business model.
    This place was different, though. For one thing, it was huge. Far too huge to house an opium den alone. And it all made her feel slightly uncomfortable to think what else might be hidden away down the dark, damp passages.
    Cora made her way down the hall, past several doors on either side with small square windows cut into them. She decided to avoid looking through the windows. She knew that his lordship was not likely to be in one of those rooms. Such proclivities just didn’t suit his taste. Also she really didn’t need to see anything that might keep her awake at night.
    Finally the hall opened up onto a room a lot like the ones in smaller opium dens, a simple square open space with pillows strewn about and pipes littering the floor. It was here she spotted Lord White, lying surrounded by half a dozen or so women. All of them appeared dead to the world, including his lordship, and Cora wondered why he’d bothered to come to this particular den only to pass out. Seemed impractical.
    The room was pleasant, though, artfully decorated with fabric that draped across the ceiling, down the walls, and over the bodies strewn about. Chinese lanterns lit the scene most ineffectively; they seemed to be more for atmosphere than anything else.
    “Very picturesque,” she said as she approached Lord White.
    His glasses were askew, falling across his face, and he was hugging a silk pillow. He opened his eyes a crack.
    “Miss Bell,” he said, the words drooling out of his mouth.
    “Indeed. Come; it’s time to go.”
    “Five more minutes.”
    “No, now.” Don’t make me sift through all these bodies to pull you up, sir. Please.
    “I don’t want to.”
    “Well, we all have to do things we don’t want.” Cora considered pointing out that the things that most people had to do that they didn’t want to do were probably a little more unpleasant than his not wanting to go home and get ready for an extravagant gala.
    But of course she didn’t.
    “This is intolerable,” he said, shifting himself up onto his elbows. “Where are my glasses?”
    “On your face.”
    “They’re clearly not.” His voice was getting louder, a little too loud.
    “Well, no, I mean . . . You aren’t wearing them properly, true, but they are lying across your face.”
    “No.”
    “They are . . . right on your . . .” Cora sighed hard and leaned over, plucking his glasses from his face and showing them to him.
    “Oh, look, my glasses!” said his lordship with great pleasure.
    “I know. What a wonderful magic trick. Up, now.”
    It was Lord White’s turn to release a sigh. He reached out his hand, and Cora, with much effort, helped him to stand. For a small man, his lordship’s body mass was awfully dense.
    Lord White teetered dangerously. He finally looked at her. He squinted. Then the squint slowly turned into eyes closing.
    Dear God, sobering him up was going to be a task.
    “Time to go home,” she said, giving him a firm shake. It took a lot of work to get him up the stairs, but fortunately she met a helpful Chinese man carrying a tea tray who gave her a hand dragging him.
    When they arrived in the foyer that led back through the tapestry, Cora gave an indulgent smile to the man she’d met earlier. Then, reaching into his lordship’s breast pocket, she pulled out a sovereign and passed it to him. He stared at it in surprise.
    “For your discretion,” she said.
    The man nodded in silence and helped them to the door. Once more Cora’s hand flew inside Lord White’s pocket and she withdrew a pair of dark round sunglasses. She exchanged his normal glasses for these, and