“What do you do here?” he said. Before she could answer, he waved a hand at her. “I do not mean it the way it sounds, but thisisa brothel, isn’t it? It’s where women are paid to spread their legs for a man. Please tell me that you are not one of those. Oh,God… Were you my uncle’s concubine? Is that why you are in a position of importance?”
Desdra was looking at him in horror. “I am no one’s concubine!”
He wasn’t quite sure he believed her. “It would be a tragedy if you were,” he said. “You are quite a beautiful woman. Did you know that? Surely you must. I can only imagine my uncle saw that you are more beautiful than the rest of the women here and elevated your status.”
Desdra’s horror turned to shock and then to rage. She could see that the Spanish wine had taken its toll on him, but that didn’t excuse him from asking rude and insulting questions.
“It is clear that you are ignorant of your uncle’s empire, so I will try to forgive you your words,” she said, jaw clenched. “But do not assume, nor ask, such things again. You would be wrong in doing so.”
“Wrong?” he said, brow furrowed. “Lady, thisisa brothel, is it not?”
“It is a place of worship.”
“Worship?”
“Aye,” she said, blue eyes flashing. “It is a place where men may worship a cultured and educated woman. Where they can bask in the presence of someone who will be kind to them. Who will treat them well. Where any fantasy can be fulfilled, but also any lonely hours can be made warm and comforting.”
He was looking at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Do men pay for sex here?”
“If both the man and the woman are agreeable to such a thing, they do.”
“Then it is a whorehouse, no matter how much you try to make it sound respectable.”
That was all Desdra could take. This place, and Chester de Long, had saved her life and she hated to see someone speak socallously about it. Perhaps, technically, he was correct, but there was so much more to it.
Her worst nightmare about Chester’s nephew had been confirmed.
He wasn’t worthy of it.
“How dare you say such things about the women who have a position here,” she hissed, slamming her hand on the table. “God pity Chester de Long for leaving this place to you. You, who have only come to judge. Clearly, you only see and hear what you want to, but that is to be expected. You’ve probably never had a hungry day in your life, have you? Or suffered cold and despair? Of course you haven’t. You are a privileged knight from a great family and you’ve only known that privilege. How dare you judge people who have not had the same good fortune? There are no whores here. Only women who provide a service. Much as you provide a service to your liege. In your terms, I suppose that makes you a whore, too, doesn’t it? A whore for bloodlust.”
She wasn’t shouting, but what she was doing was far more intimidating—calmly growling. Each syllable was rapid and succinct, slashing at him like the blade of the sharpest dagger. Her eyes were swirling with rage, her features tight, and Jareth realized he’d let the wine do the talking. He’d had no tact whatsoever and now he was faced with a very angry woman.
Rightfully so.
He’d said everything that was on his mind and shouldn’t have.
“My apologies,” he said quietly, suddenly not so drunk. “I do not know why I said any of that. I should not have.”
Her eyes were still flashing. She glared at him a moment before returning to her ledger, opening the first one and turning it in his direction.
“You can look these over yourself,” she said, cold and stiff. “You do not need me to sit with you while you do. Shouldyou have questions, I will be downstairs in the main reception chamber.”
With that, she gathered her skirt and blew past him, heading for the door. Knowing he’d made a mess out of things, he stood up before she could leave.
“Lady Desdra,” he said, struggling to focus in spite of his inebriation. “I am not a man who usually speaks as I just did, so please believe me when I say that I am sorry. It’s simply that… no one told me about this place until today. I knew Uncle Chester had the manse and the shipping business, but no one told me about this place—and what goes on here. You must understand that I am a knight sworn to our king, Henry, and I have worked my entire life for a strong and noble reputation. Knights simply do not own—forgive me again—trollop houses. It has all come as something of a shock, and that wine you provided early has made me embarrass myself. I hope you will not leave. I have many questions already.”
Desdra paused by the door, listening to him with a baleful expression. “In vino veritas,” she said quietly. “The wine did not make you say anything you did not want to say. That was your choice.”
“You are right,” he said honestly. “Itwasmy choice. It was foolish.”
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. She didn’t know this man, yet she sensed sincerity. But sincerity could be an act. Her guard was up because as far as she was concerned, she was facing the enemy. The man who had inherited Chester’s empire didn’t appreciate any of it. He didn’t respect it. She’d made a promise to protect Chester’s legacy and she was going to keep that promise.
But she had to figure out how.
“I will be downstairs,” she said. “Look over the ledgers and come to me with questions.”
With that, she left the chamber, leaving Jareth feeling just as bad as he possibly could. But he’d be damned if he didn’t deserve it.
