I like a bit of mystery and detection with my romance — a spice of danger somewhat more serious than who kissed whom in the garden. If you do, too, then join my hero and his half-brother as they visit a brothel in search of a missing boy. (And if you have a piece you’d like to share, please pop it in the comments.)

Wakefield took the lead, pointing. “That girl and that one, and one room with a large bed,” he ordered. Aldridge nodded in agreement. Wakefield had contacts among the women who earned their living in the world’s oldest trade; presumably he’d recognised the ones he’d chosen.

The two selected approached, their smiles professional and meaningless. One was dressed in skimpy Grecian robes with her brunette curls dressed high and bound with gold cord—Artemis, from the little toy bow and arrow she carried in one hand. The other wore her fair hair down, flowing over her upper body. A bright scarf was her only covering other than her hair, cinched at the waist by a circlet of flowers that echoed the one on her head. Gauzy wings hinted that she was, perhaps, intended to be a fairy.

“Artemis,” the greeter confirmed with a wave, and, “Ariel,” with a second. “Something to drink or eat, my lords?”

“Perhaps later,” Aldridge said. He slipped an arm around the blonde fairy and sniffed at her flowers. Silk, but he ignored that detail. “Come on, sweet thing. Show me to a bed.”

“The India room,” the greeter decided. Wakefield offered the brunette a raised hand. “Shall we, your divinity?”

She giggled as she placed her hand in his, and raised her nose in the air, slanting a glance to the others in the room to ensure they noticed. Aldridge allowed the woman he was holding to lead the way down a passage.

They stopped at the fourth room on the right, where a partly opened door gave entrance to a brightly decorated room with richly embroidered silken wall hangings and what looked like copies of Hindu template painting in a frieze around the walls. The main feature of the room was a circular bed at least 10 feet across.

Aldridge gave Ariel a gentle push on her bottom to propel her further into the room so that he could disengage, then put out a hand to catch her wrist as she reached for her belt. “Don’t disrobe,” he said, as Wakefield escorted Artemis inside and turned to shut and secure the door.

The fairy attempted to rub herself against Aldridge as he held her away from him by the wrist. “How may I please you, my lord?” she asked.

“Information, Sukie, and an alibi,” Wakefield said, drawing the attention of both women. Their poise slipped as they narrowed their eyes at him. He had been examining the walls, and now led them all to the corner of the bedchamber nearest to the window.

With his back to the room, Wakefield removed the glasses whose tinted lenses disguised the colour of his eyes and ejected the pads that puffed out his cheeks into his hand.

“Gor blimey!” The goddess’s refined accent devolved into broad slum in her surprise. She lowered her voice at Wakefield’s urgent gesture. “Sukie, it’s Shadow.”

The fairy looked from the enquiry agent to Aldridge and back again. “You’re never here for a poke,” she decided. “Him, maybe, but not you. Your missus would feed you your bollocks.”

Wakefield laughed softly, and whispered back, “True, Bets. Ladies, may I make known to you the Marquis of Aldridge, my half-brother. Aldridge, Saucy Sukie and Bouncing Bets are old friends.”

Aldridge bowed as if being introduced to a couple of dowagers, and the two prostitutes giggled and flushed like debutantes.

“You’re right, Bets,” Wakefield agreed, “We’re here to take back… Well. Before I get to that, how do you like working here? Are conditions good?”

Bets screwed up her face in disgust. “Good? Like hell. Never been any place worse. Can’t leave the house without a bully-boy tagging along. Can’t make any money till we’ve paid for our costumes, and our food, and our anything. Twelve Johns a night or we get fined, unless the John pays double for more than forty minutes, and ain’t nobody going to pay twelve times as much for a whole night.”

Sukie added, “And that’s not the worst, Shadow. La Reine, she sells everything and anything. Doesn’t care if it damages the merchandise. One of the girls got beaten so bad she couldn’t come back to work again, and then she just disappeared. Gone back to her mother, La Reine said. Bullshit, I say.” She shuddered.

“Even kids,” Bets agreed. “I don’t hold with that. I wouldn’t have signed on if I’d known about that.”

“We’re here to rescue a boy,” Wakefield said. Aldridge shot him an alarmed glance, but presumably his brother thought these women could be trusted.

At that moment, someone tried the door handle, and then there was a knock.

“This room is occupied,” Aldridge called out, allowing some of his anger to colour his voice.

“Drinks!” came the reply, “Complements of the House.”

Wakefield nodded at Sukie, but Aldridge said, “Wait.” He pulled the scarf off her shoulder leaving her upper half bare, and tipped her floral coronet sideways. “Here.” He drew a heavy bag of coins from his belt. “Tell them we want the next three hours, and no interruptions.”

Sukie carried out her commission, barely opening the door, handing over a bag and opening the tray.

“The money is not going to help much,” Wakefield whispered to Aldridge. “If they’re not already watching through the walls, they’ll be on their way.”

“Then we’d better be on ours,” Aldridge whispered back, though he was kicking himself for forgetting that they were probably being observed. Disrobing Sukie just so she could answer the door might already be counting against them.

With the door bolted again, all four of them retreated to the corner by the window, where Wakefield and Aldridge laid out their reasons for being there and what they hoped to achieve.

“If we help you find the boy, will you take us with you?” Bets asked, and Sukie nodded.

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Wakefield warned. “I can’t give you any guarantee that we’ll get out safely.”

Sukie snorted. “For certain sure, we’re not getting out safely if we stay.”

“Then we’ll take you,” Aldridge decided. “Whether we find the boy or not.”

He crossed to the tray of drinks and reached for one of them. “I wouldn’t,” Wakefield warned.

Aldridge pulled back his hand as if scalded. “Drugged?”

“A drink given to you free in Wharton’s brothel? What do you think?”

Aldridge shuddered and followed the others from the room.