The King's Evil

The request amused Henry Redmayne so much that he could not stop laughing. It was the last thing he expected to hear from his brother when the latter called on him in Bedford Street. Shaking with mirth, he almost dislodged his periwig.

'So!' he said. 'You have come to your senses at last. You want to acknowledge your manhood and enjoy the delights of the flesh.'

'No, Henry,' said Christopher. 'I merely wish to meet Mrs Mandrake and take a look inside her premises.'

His brother sniggered. 'Moll has the most commodious premises I have ever seen. Warm and welcoming to the few who can afford her. If you board her, dear brother, beware. Once you are inside, you will wish to stay there in perpetuity.'

'The lady has no appeal for me in that way.'

'Then you must choose one of her stable, Christopher, for they are fine fillies, each one of them. Damarosa is my favourite, an inventive wench, but you might prefer the gentler touch of Betty Hadlow. There is also a pretty Negress with a rump which could raise the Lazarus between the legs of a saint and two fresh-faced sisters called Poppy and Patience, who will share your bed together and take it in turns.' He gave a smirk. 'But you may not be ready for anything as demanding as that.'

'I am not ready for any of the things you imagine, Henry.'

He explained the purpose of his request. Henry was disappointed to hear that he would be there solely as an observer but agreed to help. He just hoped that the presence of his younger brother would not inhibit his own pleasure at the house. Christopher was given strict advice about what to wear and how to behave. Before he left, he tossed a name into Henry's ear. His brother's nose wrinkled with disgust.

'Jean-Paul Charentin!'

'Do you know the man?'

'Yes,' sneered Henry. 'A contemptible Frenchman. A sly, thin-faced, leering fellow with no breeding. Had not Sir Ambrose brought him to the house, I doubt that Molly would have admitted him. She maintains the highest standards, as you will see. Monsieur Charentin is some kind of merchant from Paris. Whatever he trades in, it is not grace and fashion.'

'How often have you met him there?'

'Once or twice. Three times at most.' Henry stared at him. 'What's your interest in the rogue?'

'His name has come to my attention.'

'Wait until Molly's paps come to your attention. Mountains of pure joy. You will have no interest in a scurvy foreigner when they are bobbing away before your eyes. I could watch them for hours.'

'Chacun à son gout, mon frère.'

'I'll wager that you are equally entranced by her.'

'We shall see,' said Christopher, heading for the door.

'Wait. You have not yet told me about your visit to Paris.'

'No, Henry. I have not and do not intend to.'

'Did you meet that dog, Charentin, while you were there?'

'Not in person,' said Christopher, 'but I am wondering if I encountered an acquaintance of his.'