David Liss - A Spectacle Of Corruption

As it is so dark, I should have said, I ought to make my way home. But I did not say that. Instead, I said, “Then I must join you on your sofa.”

And that is what I did. I moved next to Miss Dogmill, feeling the delicious warmth of her body as we sat only inches apart. I had hardly settled before I made bold to take her hand in mine. It was as though my higher self had become frozen inside me, and my baser instincts ruled my actions. The urge to feel her skin against mine silenced all other voices inside me. “I have longed to hold your hand in mine all evening,” I said. “Since the moment I first saw you.”

She said nothing, but she did not take her hand away either. Even in the dark, I observed an amused smile.

I had hoped for more encouragement, but I was willing to make do with none. “Miss Dogmill, I must tell you that you are the most beautiful young lady I have met in these many ages. You are charming and vivacious and lovely in all regards.”

Here she allowed herself a laugh. “I must take that as a sound compliment,” she said, “for you have a reputation as a man well acquainted with the ladies.”

I felt my heart pound in my chest. “I? A reputation? I have hardly been on these shores long enough for such a thing.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but she said nothing. Instead she leaned forward- yes, she leaned forward, and kissed me. Soon I had my arms around her sweet form, as we gave ourselves over to the delicious lure of passion. All of my determination to keep my distance from her was forgotten, and I cannot say to what degree we would have lost ourselves had not two things happened that cut short our delights.

The second, and less troubling of the two, was that the door burst open and Mr. Dogmill, along with a half dozen or so of his friends, entered the room with their blades drawn.

The first was that, in the very instant before our privacy was so utterly shattered by Dogmill and his bravos, Miss Dogmill broke off her kiss and whispered something in my ear. She said, “I know who you are, Mr. Weaver.”

It was unfortunate timing, in more ways than one, that led Dennis Dogmill and his friends to break open the room at that instant, for I could not but conclude that all of this had been an elaborate trap. Having been lost in the pleasing fog of passion, I lamented that I was now in a position of having to strike dead this lady’s brother if I did not wish to be returned to Newgate.

I leaped to my feet and searched the room for a weapon sufficient to fend off so many men, but found nothing.

“Get away from my sister, Evans,” Dogmill spat at me.

Evans. He called me Evans. He was not here to drag Benjamin Weaver to prison. He was here only to protect his sister’s honor. I breathed a sigh of relief, for it looked far less likely that I would have to seriously harm anyone.

“Dear God, Denny!” Miss Dogmill shouted. “What are you doing here?”

“Be quiet. I’ll have plenty to say to you anon. And don’t swear. It is unladylike.” He turned to me. “How dare you, sir, think to dishonor my sister in my own home?”

“How did you know he was here?” Grace asked.

“I did not much like the looks he gave you at the assembly, so I instructed Molly to contact me if he showed his face here. Now,” he said to me, “we’ll have no more rudeness from you. We are all gentlemen who know how to attend a man who would attempt a rape.”

“A rape!” Grace cried out. “Don’t be absurd. Mr. Evans has behaved in all ways like a gentleman, here by my invitation and guilty of nothing improper.”

“I have not inquired into your opinion of what is proper and what is not,” Dogmill told my victim. “A young lady of your age cannot always know when a man is using her ill. You need not worry, Grace. We will deal with him.”

“It is very brave of you to face me with only six men at your side,” I said. “A less stalwart man would have a full dozen.”

“You may quip as you like, but it is I who have the power here, and you have nothing. You ought to thank me for intending to only give you one quarter of the beating you deserve.”

“Are you mad?” I asked him, for he had pushed me too far. I knew that the person I pretended to be, Mr. Evans, could respond in only one way. “You may take issue with me if you like, but do so like a gentleman. I will not be treated like a serving boy only because you took the precaution of bringing a small army with you. If you wish to say something to me, say it like a man of honor, and if you wish to take up arms with me, let us do so in Hyde Park, where I will gladly duel with you on the day of your choosing, if you be but man enough to meet me.”

“What is this, Dogmill?” one of his friends asked him. “You told me some blackguard was troubling your sister. It looks to me like this gentleman is here at her invitation and should be treated with more respect.”

“Be silent,” Dogmill hissed at his companion, but such arguments failed to hold sway. There were murmurs of agreement from the others.

“I resent this, Dogmill,” the friend said again. “I was running a swimming hand at ombre when you dragged me from the card table. It’s a scurvy thing to lie to a man and say things about sisters in trouble when there are no sisters in trouble at all.”

Dogmill spat in the man’s face. This was no trickle of moisture either, but a massive and agglutinated catch of sputum. It landed with an almost comical slap. The friend wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat, turned a rich shade of plum, but said nothing more.

Miss Dogmill held herself straight and folded her arms across her chest. “Stop spitting on your friends like a schoolboy and apologize to Mr. Evans,” she said sternly, “and perhaps he will forgive this outrage.”

I looked over at Mr. Dogmill and showed him my most winsome smile. I did it, of course, to mock him. I knew he found himself in a bind. Any man of grit would challenge me to a duel now, but I already knew he would not risk anything so scandalous until after the election.

Dogmill looked like a cat cornered by a salivating hound. He turned this way and that. He tried to think his way out of his trouble, but nothing came to mind.

“Get out. I’ll settle our account once the election is resolved.”

I grinned once more. “Well, I should be a rascal to be unsatisfied with an apology so kindly rendered,” I told the room, “so I shall accept Mr. Dogmill’s words in the good spirit he intended them. Now, perhaps you gentlemen would leave so that Miss Dogmill and I can be alone once more.”

Only she, I should observe, laughed at my quip. All of Dogmill’s friends appeared mortified, and Mr. Dogmill’s muscles tightened so that he nearly collapsed on the floor with a seizure.

“Or,” I proposed, “it might be best if I were to come back some other time, for the hour is rather late.” I bowed to the lady and told her I hoped I should see her again soon. With that, I walked to the door and the crowd of men parted before me.

I had to make my own way from the parlor to the front door, and in doing so I passed a pretty little serving girl with sprightly green eyes. “Are you Molly?” I asked her.

She nodded dumbly.

I pressed a pair of shillings into her hand. “The same will be yours the next time you are supposed to inform Mr. Dogmill of my presence but neglect to do so.”

Ilooked this way and that but saw no hackneys, and I could hardly expect Dogmill to volunteer his man to run one down for me, but I turned to reenter the house and request just that service. As I turned, however, I found myself facing Dogmill, who had followed me outside.