“Then this is your chance to smooth things over,” Hugh said. “He is not going away, my lady. You would do better to learn to live with him, because butting heads with him will only see you thrown out. I swear to you that he is a good man, a decent man. Give him the chance to show you when he is not full of strong wine.”
He had a point. Desdra thought on his request a moment before eventually nodding her head. Slowly, reluctantly, she agreed.
It wasn’t as if she had a choice.
Long after Hugh left, Desdra stood at the window, watching the man as a parade of finely dressed women went out to speak to him. The conversation would end and another woman would walk out to the riverbank.
He’s a good man.
That statement kept rolling over and over in her head. A good man who had become slightly drunk and had spoken his mind over an unexpected inheritance. Was it the end of the world? Of course not. But Desdra had already been unsettled by the appearance of an unknown nephew enough that she wasn’t willing to show any measure of understanding to any statementuttered, and most especially not toward those who earned a living at Aphrodite’s Feast.
Perhaps she was partly to blame.
When the fifth woman left Jareth down by the river’s edge, Desdra decided it was time to go down herself and tell him what Chester de Long had done for her. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in her judgment.
Perhaps the man deserved another chance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After Hugh lefthim, Jareth lost track of time as he watched the river roll by. He saw a few children on the opposite bank, trying to fish and being thwarted by the fact that they only had a piece of twine and some cheese. He could hear them yelling about the cheese. Finally, one of them caught something and they all seemed to be quite excited by that. As he watched them jump up and down on the riverbank, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
“My lord?”
A soft female voice spoke, and he turned to see a shockingly elegant woman in silks. She had ribbons in her hair and wore a dress that showed her belly through diaphanous fabric. In fact, she was draped in sheer fabric as part of her clothing, and Jareth stood up, facing the woman who wasn’t particularly young, but shewasexquisite.
“My lady,” he said. “Did Hugh send you?”
She nodded, the ribbons in her careful coif fluttering. “He did, my lord,” she said. “My name is Anosia. Sir Hugh says that you have questions about The Feast. May I answer them for you?”
Jareth was still surprised over the fact that she didn’t look like any prostitute he’d ever seen. “Aye,” he said. “You can if you have time. I do not want to keep you from something important.”
Anosia shook her head. “Only Sir Hugh, but he said that he will wait,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “He told me that you were more important, but he also told me to tell you not to keep me overly long.”
Jareth snorted. “I’ll try,” he said. His smile faded. “Do you know who I am?”
She nodded without hesitation. “You are Lord Chester’s nephew.”
“I am,” Jareth said. “Aphrodite’s Feast now belongs to me.”
She smiled. “I am sure you will be a good lord to us all,” she said. “Lord Chester was so very good to us. We are grateful to him.”
Jareth considered that statement for a moment. “Will you tell me why you are here?” he said. “What I mean to ask is: why is a lovely woman such as yourself not married with children? With a home of your own?”
It was a struggle for her to keep the smile on her face. “But Iwasmarried, once,” she said. “My husband was killed at the Battle of Lewes.”
“Ah,” Jareth said, subdued. “You are the widow of the knight.”
“I am, my lord.”
“Who was he?”
She hesitated. “At Aphrodite’s Feast, we do not give out names,” she said. “We do that to protect our families, but also to create a fantasy world. One where only muses live and men enjoy them.”
“You are a muse?”
She nodded. “That is what the women of The Feast are called,” she said. “We inspire. We whisper. We laugh and we sing. Can you think of anything better to call us?”
She was smiling as she said it, clearly proud of herself and of her situation.Every woman here has a story,Hugh had said.
