"Of course. I am quite knowledgeable about these things," Jane had said, thinking that, while working at night, she might find out something more about Dracul. She'd figured she could handle any questions about birds, or even clean out a few cages if that was the type work needed for the vulgarly dressed, over-rouged mistress of the society. "And I'm not afraid to get my hands soiled," she'd added.
Colonel Saunders had laughed lewdly, saying, "I imagine more than your hands will get soiled, my quaint little pigeon."
Jane had wondered about that comment at the time. More the fool was she, for on the way to the bedchamber Jane realized exactly where she was. And although she had never seen a brothel in person, it appeared as if she was being held captive in one now. She was stuck here; her chickens had come home to roost.
What would happen when Asher arrived? she found herself wondering.
"He's going to wring my neck. No man wants his wife found in a house of ill repute." Although she had heard that Lord Ferguson's late wife was found in one two years ago.
"Now Asher has another reason to find me distasteful," Jane complained dispiritedly. How would she explain what she was doing here? Her eyes crossed as she tried to come up with a believable and plausible explanation, but it looked like her husband would roast her alive when he found her cooped up here.
Perhaps, if she was lucky, when they finally let her out of this room to ply her trade, or to do whatever these ladies—or rather birds—of the evening did, she could silently sneak away. Sneak away long before Asher even knew she had set her dainty, ladylike foot in this debauched place.
"This debacle is just like something Clair would get into. It really cooks my goose that I was so hen-witted to be taken in by those two foxes!"
Grimacing, she pondered letting Asher simply find her. Maybe it would do him some good. After all, he had been coming here for whatever married couples did behind closed doors, flocking together with all manner of plumed and beaky tarts. His infidelity hurt terribly; it made her so mad, she could actually see a red deeper than the crimson hues of the bedchamber. Jane knew that if she found out exactly which soiled doves had flown on the wings of passion with her beguiling husband, she would swiftly roast them alive.
Yes, while Jane had been dreaming of Asher's kisses, longing for him to hold her tight in the security of his arms, he had been cooing to some other bird. While she had been garnering courage to be so bold as to touch him, her husband had been flying high with the high fliers in this place. Oh, how she wanted to cry, "Foul fowl!"
The more she thought, the angrier at Asher she became. He was a cooked goose, and he didn't even know it yet. From now on, the only feathers he would pluck would be hers. Ha! The stupid, vain, pompous cock—bedding everybody in this feathery den of iniquity and leaving her cooped up at home. She poured herself another glass of wine. While she had been trying to be the perfect wife, trying to make him realize he'd wed a golden goose, he had been out cavorting with loose women.
"I should have been planting a stake right through his black heart," she remarked bitterly.
Jane drank some more wine, wishing it was brandy. "Well, once bitten, twice shy," she muttered. She hardly noticed her words beginning to slur as the drug in the wine took effect. All this time she'd been pining for his kisses, and her husband was coming to this nest of infamy. Suddenly the thought struck her as funny, and she began to giggle.
She was still giggling when the bedchamber door opened and a female of questionable repute walked in with a bright yellow costume. "This 'eres for you," the woman remarked, holding out the feathered outfit.
"Me?" Jane giggled, befuddled by the laudanum in her wine. "What is it supposed to be?" she asked. She examined the plumage of yellow and peach.
"A golden cherry lovebird," the whore replied.
Jane giggled some more. If they thought she was going to go out dressed like that, then they certainly had another think coming! "No, I don't think so. I need a costume with a little more covering," Jane said owlishly, holding up the garb. She felt very dizzy.
"Sorry, ducks," the whore replied. "This 'ere's the costume the madam said you're to wear."
Jane grinned stupidly. "No! Not enough feathers in the right places." She shook her head.
The whore dismissed her protestations and helped her into the costume. The gown was cut to display Jane's ample breasts. Peach and green feathers barely covered the low-cut neckline, and it had a plunging V in the back. A peach-colored mask, along with a pale yellow wig of soft curls, covered her features.
"At least I don't look like me," Jane mused, staring dizzily at her reflection in the mirror. In spite of the shocking amount of skin the costume revealed, she couldn't help admiring the way the gown enhanced her figure. "I look like a real highflier now," she commented woozily.
"Yes, um, a real prime piece," the whore agreed.
"I should be disgusted. I should be horrified," Jane stated firmly, then giggled. "But I'm not. Why am I not?"
The whore grinned, glancing over at the wine. "Madame Saunders always gives the new chicks her special something along with the elderberry wine—to help 'em with the jitters the first few times. Madame likes the new girls not to feel no shyness."
Jane grinned stupidly. "I've been drugged, then?"
"You have."
"Well, what an amazing thing! I feel wonderfully free. Like the breeze. Like a bird flying high." She knew tomorrow she would be mad, embarrassed and quite ashamed. But right now all she hoped was that Asher liked her costume enough to pluck her feathers one by one. "Why, the colors of the room don't look so garish now," she added in amusement.
Several nonsensical minutes later, Jane found herself in a room filled with soiled doves of every type, color, size and plumage, the feathers shimmering as the women sashayed about, lifting and flying everywhere. There were short birds, stout ones, thin ones, tall ones, but all were decked out in their fine-feathered best.
Jane started to giggle, whispering, "Duck, duck, goose."
There was also a female stuffed into a quail costume, whom Jane figured had a fondness for chocolates like her own. And there was a duck who introduced herself as Ala Orange. The bright color of her feathers stood out starkly.
There was a woodpecker, a tall, lithe brunette who in the scheme of things, seemed to have first crack at the gentlemen around her. She seductively fluttered her fan and feathers, and was quickly given her pecking orders.
Another of the exotic birds was warbling a soft, high tune, swaying to the beat of her own music and one glass too many of the rich ruby wine. Two gentlemen stood nearby, ogling her.
Jane watched it all, a look of awe in her eyes. So this was seduction. She wondered if she could walk the way these ladies of the evening did. Would that attract her husband? Would he even notice?
Gentlemen of every size and shape were in the room. Some were only gaping at the fancily costumed girls, while others appeared to be sampling. Jane shuddered. She could tell that more than a few were shape-shifters; she could feel their scalding heat warming the room. She could also sense the cold of the grave coming off three of the guests; she just wasn't sure which ones, the drug having clouded her senses. However, she didn't feel as if any of the vampires was a threat.
"I can't believe the Count of Corruption isn't here. And neither is my bird-wenching husband," Jane said to herself.
In spite of the tranquility she was feeling, she still suffered a twinge of anxiety. But she was being silly. Even her own father wouldn't recognize her.