image of the woman with her dark hair piled high on her head, soaking in the large stone bath as her skin glistening with the steam of the water, filled his mind. Did they bathe naked here in the spa? He imagined the smooth swell of her breasts submerged partially in the hot water and he swallowed hard, thinking about swimming up to her and licking the water from her soft skin. The pool of water he spied below was large, which would leave them with plenty of room to explore one another below the surface of the water or on one of the stone steps leading down into the bath. In his mind, he pictured them in there, after the spa had been closed up for the night. Those musings quickly ended with the words of the white-haired gentleman across from him.
‘Blockage of the bowels.’
Lane blinked a few times, bringing the room back into focus as he felt his eyebrows rise. ‘Pardon?’
There was a soft sputter of laughter from the woman he had been daydreaming about, before she covered her mouth with her gloved hand and pretended to cough.
‘I said blockage of the bowels,’ the man repeated a bit louder. ‘It also cures blockage of the bowels. Is that why you’re here? Or is it for the women? Many fine women here in this town.’ The man eyed the Duchess on his right.
She raised her chin and arched a very regal-looking brow at the man who appeared older than her advanced age. Her expression had the effect she intended since he moved a few steps away from her and shifted his attention back to Lane. None of them had been introduced to him and yet they all seemed perfectly content to speak with him about the advantages of taking the water here. Was all of Bath like this or was it something unique that happened while you were all partaking in a glass of water that might, or might not, have you attached to a chamber pot for an undisclosed amount of time?
‘Leave him alone,’ said the elderly Duchess. ‘Let the man enjoy his water in peace.’
Enjoying it was probably a gross exaggeration. ‘I don’t mind,’ Lane said, feeling a need to speak with these people to better understand what motivated them to frequent such an establishment. ‘I’ve come to Bath at the suggestion of a friend. He thought I was sure to find something I’d like here.’
‘Plenty of things to like in Bath,’ the man who was hard of hearing replied back. This time he eyed the brunette to Lane’s right.
‘I am not a thing, Mr Falk,’ she said, surprising Lane with her way of directly addressing the man’s comment.
More surprising was the way the tone of her voice and her confident demeanour made the man redden with embarrassment at her chastisement. Although that did little to stop him from continuing.
‘You will never find another husband with that outspoken nature of yours.’
‘I am glad to hear of it. That is more reason to speak my mind.’
‘A man doesn’t like a woman who speaks her mind. A man likes a woman who is docile and deferential.’
‘What nonsense,’ the Duchess interjected. ‘A man would be bored with such a woman in less than a week.’ She shifted her attention to Lane. ‘What say you, sir? Do you agree with his proclamation?’
The two elderly gentlemen leaned closer and watched, as if they were warning him not to side with the two women in this odd little party.
Lane glanced at the woman beside him before addressing the Duchess. ‘I’ve never given it any thought.’
‘But surely you have preferences in the women you spend your time with.’
He was being watched too closely by the four people in this group. Why couldn’t they still be discussing the benefits of the water? He downed the contents of the glass in his hand, forgetting it was the spa water. If only he could wipe his tongue on his sleeve to alleviate the coppery taste in his mouth. He had learned not to care what other people thought of him a long time ago, but he found he didn’t want the woman beside him to think him lily-livered. It was not the impression he wanted to leave her with.
‘An interesting way to avoid answering a question,’ she commented. Her brown eyes held that now-familiar hint of amusement under her arched brow.
Lane had come here to gather information. That was all. How had he become a source of entertainment for her?
‘Well?’ she asked.
‘I’ve never given much thought to the type of women I prefer.’
‘I meant the water.’
‘Oh.’ There were no mineral deposits at the bottom of his glass. And, thankfully, no strands of hair. ‘It was not what I expected.’
‘You’ll grow accustomed to it. You may find you prefer it when it’s hot. Since you held it for so long, I’m certain it would have cooled off in your glass.’
He hadn’t planned to come back to this spa to find out. One visit should be enough to see what features he might want to recreate in his. With enough information, he was certain he could convince his partner that this was a lucrative investment. And the more time he spent here, the more he was certain that it made sense to expand their operation to include bathing. In order to do that they would need to buy The Fountain Head Hotel which was next door. A spa needed to be large. His one solitary building would never do and there was a church to the left. There was no possible way he would be expanding his enterprise in that direction. They would need to purchase the hotel that sat on the adjacent property on the right if they were to have any chance of making this a highly profitable venture. He was already staying there to assess it.
Just as he was about to begin asking the people around him what features kept them coming back to this particular spa, the attractive woman in scarlet took a step back from the fountain.
‘Well, do have a pleasant day, everyone.’
She was leaving? Suddenly conversing with the other three standing around the fountain didn’t seem as appealing as it had moments before. He didn’t even know her name or where she was from—or how he could find her again.
It shouldn’t matter. He was in Bath for a short time and he never let anything or anyone distract him from business. He had no time to spend in the company of such an enticing woman—even though his thoughts once more drifted to the image of her in the hot, steaming water. Tendrils of her wavy dark hair were grazing the glistening skin of her shoulders.
She was a distraction he couldn’t afford right now. Hopefully soon he would be devoting all of his attention to convincing the owner of The Fountain Head Hotel to sell him their successful enterprise as inexpensively as possible.
The sun had finally come out from behind the clouds and was shining high above the garden that was behind Clara’s house in the Royal Crescent. This lovely garden, with a large variety of colourful roses, was one of her favourite places to spend her time in the warmer weather. On this spring day, she was enjoying the company of Eleanor, the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale, who she had run into at the Pump Room the day before. They were seated across from one another at the small round table that was set out on the gravel circle at the very centre of the garden.
The women had become friendly five years ago when they had worked together on a committee raising funds for the Foundling Hospital in London. Days were never dull when Eleanor was around and, for that, Clara was grateful.
‘You always do have the most exceptional tea,’ the Dowager commented, lowering her fine porcelain cup into its saucer and placing it on the table.
‘Thank you. I’ve blended a few special types of oolong for this pot.’
The weight of the head of Clara’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel rested on her foot while Humphrey stretched his small, exhausted, black furry body down beside her after having spent the last fifteen minutes chasing a butterfly along the