A Fateful Wind by Suzette Stone

in his lap as he thrust a guinea into her garter-belt, his greedy hands already seeking the warmth of her cleavage.
    Jack turned to face the stage, ignoring the tartish women who clamored for his attention. Gradually, the honky-tonk sound of the piano began. The dancers moved to the front of the stage, kicking their legs high up in the air and bending over so their round bottoms were thrust enticingly into the faces of the cheering audience. He gazed back over to his cousin, who clapped and cheered, an expression of sheer joy on his fat little face.
    Keep on drinking, Edwin , Jack thought. Keep on drinking so you have no idea what I am doing, or rather not doing.
    Reaching over, he poured his cousin another large tankard of whiskey and poured himself a jigger. The can-can dancers continued to cavort around the stage as a large blond woman approached him, her pale flesh spilling out over the lacy corset she squeezed herself into. As she smiled, he noticed the teeth missing from her mouth, the pox ridden skin and open sores around her mouth. She was poverty and destitution at its finest. He felt nauseous at the sight of her. He quickly thrust a guinea into her ample cleavage and pointed her in the direction of his cousin, who merrily pinched her bottom and sent her away. He felt pleased even his lascivious cousin possessed some taste.
    Jack stood, excusing himself from the table.
    Lord Edwin looked perplexed. He laughed and waved his finger in Jack’s face. “Off to find yourself a looker are we?” He winked, licking his lips.
    Jack nodded, pleased with the excuse. He hurried out of the front door and down the steps where he immediately felt the bile rush into his mouth. He bent over the iron railing and relieved his nausea. The stench and poverty of the place made him ill. He longed to be back at Penrose House. He longed to be back with Jenna. She was all he could think about during the coach ride to Plymouth. Now surrounded by throngs of near naked women, not one caught his eye. When he closed them he saw Jenna’s smiling face and no one else.
    Eventually, he felt like enough time passed for his cousin to consume more drinks and not be bothered by Jack’s disinterest in the harlots surrounding him. He was right. Lord Edwin now had three such vixens lavishing attention on him and he lapped it up, consuming more whiskey. His eyes glazed over with the heady lust he obviously felt. He barely noticed Jack’s return as the voluptuous redhead gyrated in his lap, whilst two others poured him his whiskey, nuzzling their bosoms against his rotund face. Prying his eyes away from the seedy wrenches, he looked over to Jack, who pretended to be eyeing up one of the lovelies. Moving his chair closer, he poured his cousin another jigger of whiskey.
    “Fine show isn’t it?” Sweat poured from his gleaming skin.
    Jack nodded, eager to get some information about Jenna from him before his cousin retired up the stairs to one of the brothel’s boudoirs.
    “‘Aye, Edwin, there are some beauties here. Fine women full of lust and spirit. In fact the finest I have seen in the west country.”
    Edwin nodded with exuberance. “They are fine indeed. I have chosen well for our excursion.”
    “Lady Emmeline does not mind?”
    “Of course not. She finds relief in my ability to quell my lusty appetite elsewhere. She is a frigid woman, cold and undesirable.” Lord Edwin’s tongue became loose from the vast amounts of whiskey he consumed. “She prefers to fill her passions elsewhere – her books, her rose garden, her parties – all dull, dull, dull. Me, I am a man full of passion she knows cannot be denied and so she turns a blind eye to my excursions to the sordid streets of Plymouth.”
    “But you cannot get to Plymouth that often cousin?” Jack pried, eager to get Edwin to open up further. “Have you a mistress closer to home?”
    Edwin shook his head sadly. “That is one of two things Emmeline forbids. No regular mistress. She is