“You don’t even know fully what I look like,” said Constanza. “How can you be sure I’ll be a success?”
“My dear,” was the devastating reply, “as long as you will give the gentlemen a good jogging, it matters not if you’re as ugly as sin itself. Remember that no one will ever see your face. I’ve half a dozen pretty lasses for those who like beauty with their play.”
“What about the money?” asked Constanza.
“We’ll split your earnings fifty-fifty,” came the reply.
“No!I want none of it! Oh, God! Why did I come here?”
Claro laughed, then put a friendly arm about Constanza. “Don’t be frightened, lovey. Being a whore takes getting used to, but you’ll do beautifully.” She sat Constanza down, gave her a small glass of a restorative cordial, then sat opposite her. “D’you think I was born a lightskirt then? My father was a nobleman with lands, but I ran off with my cousin and when he’d filled my belly, he left me. I couldn’t go home. What else could I do?”
“You had a baby?” Constanza’s purple eyes were wide with surprise.
“No,” laughed Claro, “I wasn’t so innocent that I didn’t know how to get rid of the brat.”
Constanza felt sick, and swallowed hard. Oblivious, Claro continued. “Your using a mask will certainly be enticing, but I wish you also had a specialty that would set you apart. A mask is not enough.”
Constanza stared at her hostess, her fear suddenly gone. Claro was, she realized with surprise, simply a business woman. The cordial was beginning to work, and now Constanza had a wicked idea. “I have a book,” she said.
“A book?”
“A book from the East, full of beautiful pictures of men and women, and some with animals. What if I offered each man who comes to me the opportunity to chose a page and duplicate that page?”
Claro’s baby-blue eyes widened. “God’s toenail! You’ve a quick mind for this, my dear. It’s perfect! Now, when will you come to us?”
“Tonight,” answered Constanza. “My lord is away for several days, and the truth is that I burn.”
“Do not bother returning home now, my dear. Send your groom back for your book while you rest here,” purred Claro. She rang a small silver bell and said to the little servant girl, “Take Madam to the Rose Room.”
Wordlessly Constanza followed the maid out the door. As the door closed on the two, Claro spun about, hugging herself with glee. “Oh, Dom!” she said softly to the air above her. “Oh, my darlingbrother, at last I have a means of vengeance on Niall Burke for you! That milk-faced girl is his wife. His wife! And I’ll make the fine Lord Burke’s wife the most infamous whore in London! That, added to the death of your late bitch wife Skye, should destroy him for good!” And Claire O’Flaherty laughed wildly.
So it began. Soon gentlemen of the Court were circulating stories of the “Book Lady” who occasionally entertained at the house of the nobility’s favorite whore, Claro. The Book Lady performed the most unspeakable and delicious acts of perversions. The Book Lady’s lust was inexhaustible. That she was a lady was evident, but who she was was a favorite guessing game of the men who frequented Claro’s house, and Elizabeth Tudor’s Court.
And Constanza Burke, living her secret life, had never been happier. She had her husband, and Lord Basingstoke, and Harry the groom, and a host of noble lovers. Who would ever suspect that the innocent-looking Lady Burke of Elizabeth’s Court was the wicked Book Lady?
Luck rode with her, for Niall Burke was lost in his personal world of sad memories and was hardly aware of his wife any longer. Had the Countess of Lynmouth not looked so much like his Skye, he would have gone on with his life. But now, seeing her frequently, his wounds bled again and again. What a fine joke fate had played on him, and he laughed bitterly and drank deeply of his wine.
One evening his wife’s personal servant, Ana, entered his library and curtseyed before him. “My lord, I must speak with you.” Ana was in a most difficult position. She could not allow her beloved child to go on as she was, yet to expose her sins to her husband would be worse. Ana believed that if she could force Lord Burke from his depression, perhaps he would again become a loving husband. Constanza would then cease her wicked adventures before it was too late.
“Well, Ana, what is it?”
“My lord, myniñais not happy, and it is because you are not happy.” His black look made her falter, but summoning her courage, she continued. “You’ve been neglecting Constanza, my lord, and you know that I speak the truth. Why can it not be as it once was between you? Surely you don’t love her any less.”
He sighed. The old woman was a busybody, but she spoke honestly and he knew it. “We Irish are subject to black moods, Ana, and Constanza must get used to that. She’s a good little lass.”
“Why do you not go home to Ireland, my lord?”
“I will not return until I can return with my wifeandmy son.”
“There is little chance of that if you see my mistress so infrequently,” snapped Ana tartly.
“Peace, woman!” shouted Niall Burke. “For the moment the mood is upon me, and I must bear it until it passes. Your mistress has had two years to produce an heir, and I’ve seen no sign of a son or daughter. She has not complained to me of neglect, and seems well enough entertained these days. Christ, she’s in the house less than I am!”
“And don’t you wonder where she goes?”
Niall Burke’s silver eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, woman?” he asked ominously.
A wave of fear rushed on Ana, almost suffocating her. “Nothing, my lord, nothing!” she gasped and quickly backed out of the room. Oh God! She had almost given it away. Leaning against the wall, she wept silently, the hot, salty tears stinging her eyes and swelling them. Ana was not young anymore. Going through this awful fear again was surely a curse.
