Free Not Less Than Gods by Kage Baker Page B

squiffed. I kissed her cheek to thank her. And Mrs. Otley, of course, because—well, it was what we came here to do.”
    He fell silent. “That’s all?” said Lady Beatrice.
    “Yes.”
    “I put it to you, ladies: has he spoken Utter Truth?”
    The women looked from one to another. “Ye-es,” said Mrs. Otley. “I believe he has.”
    “I agree. He is acquitted.” Lady Beatrice pointed like an accusatory specter at Pengrove. “Now, you, sir! Speak at once!”
    Herbertina held up her watch, and Pengrove said in a breathless voice: “Arabella Minton, cousin, I was eleven and she was thirteen and she said she’d teach me a new game if we went out behind the hedge. Violet, er, never knew her last name, but she was my mother’s between-stairs maid. Because, she looked so fetching with her cheeks all red from beating the carpet. Mother saw me and made me apologize. Georgina Osgood, we were at a dance and went out on the terrace to get cool and she said if I was any sort of man I’d kiss her. Didn’t dance with me the rest of the evening. Bridie Wiggan, my charwoman, because—because she was fairly young and willing and I’d just had word my brother had died in Kabul and, and coupling with a woman seemed to make as much sense as anything just then. I gave her a five-pound note afterward. And Miss Rendlesham, because she told me to, but I was so very, very,
very
grateful to be told. And that’s all.”
    “Truly?” said Lady Beatrice.
    “Indeed, ma’am.”
    “Your verdict, ladies?”
    “He told the truth,” said Miss Rendlesham, and there was a general chorus of agreement.
    “And our judgment is for acquittal,” said Lady Beatrice. “Fortunate mortal! And now—” She turned and looked over her shoulder at Bell-Fairfax. “It is your turn. Utter Truth, and nothing else, sir.”
    Edward smiled. He cleared his throat, coughed into his fist and said, “Mind the watch.”
    “Go!”
    “Doris, Bess, Janet and Mary, surnames unknown, barmaids at the Pinford Arms, because they permitted it. One Miss Grigg, of Portsmouth,because she offered and I didn’t know when I’d get the chance again. Five whores in the souk of entertainments in Constantinople, whose names I never learned, because it pleased me. Edith Javier of Gibraltar, because she offered. Three whores in the souk at Alexandria, whose names I never learned either, for reasons previously given. Two whores at Hong Kong Island, names unknown, reason as before. Seven whores, names unknown, in the bazaar at Bombay, reason as before. Omolara, a negress of Benin, because she offered. Kate, Audrey and Susan, last names unknown, barmaids at the Turk’s Head in Bristol, because they permitted it. The Misses Devere—excuse me, I don’t know your Christian names, ladies—because they offered. Herbertina Lovelock, because she offered, if somewhat perversely. Lady Beatrice, surname unknown, because she offered.”
    “Oh, you bloody liar!” screamed Pengrove.
    “You must be an absolute collection of venereal diseases!” said Hobson. Bell-Fairfax merely shook his head.
    “Ladies, have I any least trace of the clap evident in my person?”
    “He has not,” said Lady Beatrice. She gave Bell-Fairfax a curious stern look, somewhat assessing. “Nor is it my opinion that he has lied.”
    “I certainly wouldn’t have said he lied,” agreed the brunette Miss Devere. “Not after the events of the last two hours.” Bell-Fairfax smirked.
    “I appear to be favored with a natural immunity to poxes of every variety, you see,” he said. “To say nothing of an ability to, as it were, endure.”
    “Oh, you’re a beastly freak of nature,” muttered Pengrove, reclining backward into Miss Rendlesham’s bosom. “And I still say you’re a liar. Notwithstanding—this really is the most awfully jolly work, isn’t it, chaps?”
    “Though I hope you are all far too wise to assume that your real work will in any way resemble our recreation here,” said Miss