Garden of Lies by Amanda Quick Page A

pulled closed.
    Slater stood quietly for a time listening. Low voices drifted out of the shadows. A woman laughed flirtatiously. A man murmured in what he no doubt believed to be a seductive tone but his words were slurred. Another couple vanished into the maze.
    Slater stepped back and studied the gate at the places where it was hinged to the brick wall. The intricate wrought ironwork was intended to keep intruders out but it also provided a number of convenient footholds. The trick would be scaling the gate without being seen. But none of the couples who occasionally materialized in and out of the mist appeared to be paying attention to the gate. In any event the fog was thickening so quickly that it was increasingly unlikely that someone would even be able to see the wall or the gate unless he or she were quite close.
    He took hold of one of the iron bars and vaulted upward. He got the toe of one boot on another decorative bit of iron and reached for the next handhold.
    Climbing the gate proved simple enough, much easier than climbing out of the labyrinth caves. There were no shouts of alarm. When he arrived at the top of the wall he reversed the technique, dropping almost soundlessly to the ground.
    He pulled up the high collar of his coat to conceal his profile and adjusted the brim of his low-crowned hat so that it shielded his eyes. His black scarf could be converted into a mask for the lower portion of his face if needed but in the fog-infused shadows of the gardens he was quite certain he would not have to use it.
    He moved quietly across the grounds, keeping to the deep cover cast by tall, fancifully trimmed greenery. It took him a moment to realize that the hedges were all clipped to form erotic green statues.
    Moonlight and the colorful lanterns illuminated the fog with an eerie radiance that rendered the couples he passed into ghostly silhouettes. On the far side of the grounds the great house glowed in the mist, a forbidding castle in a dark fairy tale.
    He took care to stay out of the way of guests strolling the gardens but as he drew closer to the mansion it became increasingly difficult to remain unseen. Not that any of the male guests appeared to be focused on anyone other than their female companions, all of whom were remarkably attractive and extremely well endowed.
    It soon became obvious that only the men were inebriated. The women laughed and teased and flirted in a practiced manner.
    He knew acting when he saw it, Slater thought. The women were all professional courtesans—very expensive-looking courtesans, to be sure. Their gowns were elegant and in the latest fashion.
    When he passed near the maze he heard giggles and drunken laughter inside. There were other noises as well—the primal grunts and hoarse groans of men caught up in the throes of lust. The interior of the maze sounded like the upper floors of a bordello.
    Slater continued toward the house, stopping a few yards from the lantern-lit terrace. The French doors of a dimly lit ballroom stood open to the night. Inside couples danced and flirted in the disorienting light cast by lanterns encased in shades that were incised with various cutouts. The lamps dangled from wires in the ceiling, shifting, bobbing and rotating in a way that created ever-changing patterns of light and shadow over the crowd.
    Slater considered his options. The guests and their courtesans were all attired in a fashionable, formal manner. He had dressed for an evening of discreet observation, not a soiree. He could not risk entering the ballroom. The coat and cap would draw immediate attention. Even if he were to remove them the risk remained. He had spent most of the past ten years away from London and he had not gone out into Society since his return but there were still some who might recognize him even in a darkened room.
    On a night when so many guests were being entertained in such a lavish manner there were sure to be a large number of servants bustling about