back against the sensation, he took note that the three new guests nodded a greeting to the woman beside him before they filled their glasses with water and immediately began to drink it as if they were returning from a long trip in the desert. At five pence for a glass and with the crowds of people standing about in the classical, sparsely decorated room, offering a similar arrangement in the spa he might build appeared to be an excellent idea. Perhaps if he charged four pence per glass for the first few months it would be a way to entice patrons of this spa to the one he might build. He just needed to find a way to convince his partner that this was a lucrative investment.
‘Drink up, my boy,’ the balding man wearing spectacles called to him from the other side of the fountain. ‘You will experience none of the benefits of the water if you simply hold it in your glass. The water needs to be hot to be at its most effective.’
Lane must have been eyeing the room longer than he realised for it to be remarked upon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the woman beside him take another sip from her glass.
‘You find the water beneficial? I admit I’ve been hesitant in trying it.’
There was a faint tsking sound from the woman next to him and he could see her shake her head ever so slightly, right before the white-haired, portly gentleman answered him.
‘Nonsense,’ he replied, his runny pale blue eyes narrowing on Lane under his thick, bushy, white eyebrows. ‘There is no reason to hesitate. This water will not kill you. It cures rheums, palsies, lethargies, apoplexy, cramps, forgetfulness, trembling of any manner, aches and swelling of the joints, and even deafness.’
‘What was that?’ the other man asked him.
‘I said the water has been known to cure those who are deaf.’
The balding man shook his head. ‘Well, it helps with ailments, does nothing for theft.’
‘Deaf. I said it cures deafness,’ the other man said louder.
‘Oh, rightly so. I’ve been coming here every day for a year and drink three pints a day. Works wonders.’
The calculations of revenue started to happen in Lane’s head. ‘You’ve been coming here for a year?’
‘Near to what?’
‘He was verifying that you’ve been taking the waters here for an entire year,’ the elderly woman chimed in, rolling her eyes. The diamonds in her earrings sparkled as she shook her head.
The old man waved her off with his hand. ‘I heard him. I heard him.’
How many patrons in this room had been coming to the spa that long? Repeat customers were a boon to any business—and this particular one was drinking more than a glass a day. What exactly was it that kept a gentleman such as this coming back? Was it something more than his belief in the water?
The elderly lady broke into his thoughts as she addressed the woman beside him.
‘Good morning, my dear. Lovely to see you, as always.’
‘Good morning, Your Grace.’ The woman gave a slight curtsy and the sleeve of her scarlet-silk spencer brushed against his arm. ‘It’s a pleasure. I wasn’t aware you had returned to town.’
‘Just arrived yesterday and haven’t sent my cards around yet. My grandson was interested in showing his wife the sights in Bath. She’s never been. I saw it as a wonderful opportunity to enjoy the restorative effects of the waters and spend time with my family. Pity it’s raining today.’
‘Yes, it is. I was looking forward to a long hot soak when I awoke this morning.’
So, she had intended to bathe here today. He couldn’t understand why. She couldn’t be any older than his thirty-seven years. She appeared fit and her movements, while graceful, were spry. Perhaps she just enjoyed the feel of the hot water.
An 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
