Damnation.
Bennett thumped his desk. One visit to a pleasure club, and he’d lost his wits entirely. He needed to calm down. Regain composure. Concentrate on tasks, not emotions.
An unexpected knock sounded at the library door, and exceedingly grateful for the interruption, he called ‘enter’. Until he saw both his housekeeper and his butler.
Bloody hell. What now?
“Might we have a word, Your Grace?” said his housekeeper as she curtsied.
“Of course,” he replied, suppressing a frisson of unease.
“I just wondered if there would be Christmastide baskets this year.”
Bennett blinked at the odd statement. As far as he knew, baskets were prepared each year to thank staff over and above their wages and included items like sweets, oranges, rich fruit cake, extra coins, and cloth or yarn. “Why would they not be?”
His butler coughed. “For the sake of economizing, Your Grace, requests for funds were often declined or a much smaller amount provided. Especially in regard to staff expenses like wage increases, new clothing or livery, and Christmastide baskets. It has caused…friction, and some staff to leave your service. But now there are no trustees…”
Economizing?
Bennett stared in disbelief. Surely not. He’d always forwarded requests to the trustees to disburse funds because the coffers could easily afford the expense and the gifts were so gladly received. Now his butler was implying staff hadn’t received wage increases or proper clothing allowances either? Bloody damned trustees. No doubt they considered themselves so very virtuous for saving him money, just as they’d prided themselves on those rules and lectures. He’d been such a trusting, obedient fool.
“I would appreciate it,” Bennett said carefully, to conceal his fury, “if you provided details of current wages, the last increase, and cloth or livery distribution. Let me assure you that I will rectify the matter swiftly.”
The older woman nodded, her gaze softening. “At once, Your Grace. The baskets too?”
“Yes.”
As the gifts were atonement for the nonsense that had occurred without his knowledge, he needed to attend to the matter personally. Shopping for Christmastide baskets couldn’t be so very difficult.
Could it?
The Temple weekly staff meetings were loud, often humorous, occasionally sobering or ire-raising, but critical to the success of a pleasure club. They were held in the gaming hell to accommodate everyone, and each person had the opportunity to speak; to talk about a particular success or issue, offer suggestions for an upcoming lecture topic, or observations from the area of the club they worked in.
But concentration today was almost impossible. All Delilah could think about was her runaway virgin duke, and the clumsy comment that had probably caused him to leave. Initially she’d been confused and more than a little piqued, but in the early hours of that morning, when during one of her rounds of the club she’d overheard one maid lecture another for making a mess, she’d realized saying ‘quite a spend’ to Tunbury might have been construed as a scolding. The exact thing those awful trustees had done when he’d been a lad.
Gracious, that blunder still made her cringe, even though it had been a few days. It would be entirely her own fault if she never set eyes on the handsome man with the endearing blush and splendid cock ever again.
“Ma’am? What do you think?”
Delilah smiled ruefully at the older woman who oversaw their popular painting studio. “Forgive me, my thoughts wandered to the long list of things I need to do when I go out and about today. You were saying?”
“Last night one of my regular gents requested that I include candles in my supplies, not for light but so he and his wife could trickle liquid wax on each other, then cool with champagne. But we only have the usual pale yellow beeswax candles. I wondered if you might be able to source some in different colors, or perhaps scented. Holly would be nice, seeing as it’s Christmastide soon.”
“What an excellent idea. I shall certainly look around to see what else is available. We must always strive to offer something a little different to our patrons, never rest on our laurels. Besides, as you all well know, I can never wait until Christmas Eve to decorate the Temple. I’ve already ordered quantities of holly and mistletoe to be delivered next Wednesday.”
“Oh no,” groaned a footman. “Weeks of you humming Joy to the World.”
“Better humming than singing,” Delilah laughed before continuing, “On another matter…I’m sure you are all aware that Mr. Kelly stopped by the other day with the final bill of sale. It is now signed and sealed, and the new owner will take up the reins on January first. But that doesn’t mean we will slow down or grow complacent until then. Quite the contrary. The Temple is booked solidly, and I am contemplating what else can be done to further accommodate patron demand. Does anyone have a suggestion?”
Another footman raised his hand. “I overheard the group at the whist table grumbling again that we don’t offer a punishment room option. Those high and mighty politicians really do want to finish their evening with a good birching.”
Sighing, Delilah leaned forward on her high-backed chair. “I can think of several politicians I would personally like to birch for being so pompous and corrupt, but that particular service won’t be offered while the Temple is under my ownership. We direct them to the White House for punishment or pain play, just as Mrs. Berkley directs patrons here for larking about in costume or erotic painting. I prefer to be on friendly terms with other owners, not wasting time or money on rivalry nonsense.”
“Rivalry can be cruel,” said a kitchen maid, nodding. “And it always spills over. Last week I saw two maids over Vauxhall way having a hair-pulling fight in a tavern because of their mistresses.”
“Here now, might have been about a lad,” said a young footman with a wink.
Several in the group snorted and rolled their eyes, and Delilah stifled a smile. While she discouraged relations between staff members to keep the peace, all her employees were free to take a lover outside the club. They’d probably heard a thousand tales of romantic theatrics, triumphs, and disappointments, in this gaming hell. “Not all lads leave a trail of broken hearts across London like you.”
He grinned and bowed. “’Tis a talent, ma’am.”
“I have a suggestion,” said one of her brawny guards, a former soldier in the British Army who now ensured the safety and security of both patrons and staff. “In winter it gets dark so early; would you consider having afternoon sessions? Far too cold at night to venture out for some of our older members and others don’t like traveling after dusk.”
“I’ve heard that also,” added their in-house tailor, who cleaned and repaired all the costumes. “My silver-haired battalion would like a nice day romp as an Amazon and Spartan, but go home for supper in their own dining room.”
Delilah tilted her head in thought. “I’d have to hire more staff, but that could be feasible. We’ll charge a little extra for the service—afternoon delight, I’ll call it—but just a trial to start. Two afternoons a week, Monday and Thursday. Remind me to hang up a notice in the entrance hall.”