Page 27 of Cora
“Who is managing the countess’ affairs in her absence?”
“Her son, Mr. Bristow.”
“Then I would like to speak with him.”
Starke’s brow pleated in consternation. “I am afraid that is not possible. He is presently dealing with…a situation.”
“What kind of situation, Starke?” Gideon barely concealed his annoyance. He needed the countess’ signature before the bank merger could be completed. Stupid paperwork that could have been handled by any lackey if not for the fact that this document spelled out the real nature of Countess Oreste’s House of Virtue.
He knew this, yet seeing it spelled out in black and white shocked him.
The rumors were true. It was a whorehouse. A very exclusive one. Men came here for the company. Ladies visited under the pretext that it was a house of reform. Some of them paid “donations” to support the home’s supposed work. Either they were genuinely moved to help women leave the profession, in which case Belladonna was running a deceptive scheme, or the ladies were looking the other way and paying her for silence. Likely a mix, in his estimation.
Undoubtedly, some women were happy to have an outlet for their husbands’ baser needs than attending to them personally. Was Cora one of them?
Not judging from the way her cheeks had flushed and the way she kissed him back, both at the wedding and later that evening. She was such a confusing mix of worldly and innocent. Rather than attempt to unravel the question of what the hell his wife had been doing during the years he’d left her alone, he’d waited for her to come to him.
But she hadn’t broken like he expected her to. Stubborn woman.
Today, no visitor would be fooled by Belladonna’s sham.
“She cannot keep taking my clients like this! You have to do something, Archie,” a woman fumed.
“Do what, Tulip? I can’t force men to use your services. They like doing what you do to them to Daisy.”
“They like me because I’m willing to get on my knees for them.” The second woman’s smug dulcet tone sharpened when she said, “I let them tie me up and spank my bottom raw, and for what? No extra pay? The twins don’t even use their cunts!”
Gideon blinked.
“You knew the terms when you signed on, Daisy.” A young man’s voice in a wearily reasonable tone added. “More to the point, you are not a prisoner here. If you don’t like how the House of Vice operates, then leave.”
The woman huffed. “Where the fuck would I go?”
“Language.”
“Fucking, fucking,fucking! That’s all we do here. Suck cock and pretend to be virginal little fallen angels to the fancy women who think we’re actually trying to change our ways.” She huffed contemptuously. “They know we’re fucking their husbands.”
Starke sighed. Gideon bit back a smile.
“Impressive vocabulary,” he muttered. The servant winced.
“As you can see, this is not a good time.”
“If you want better working conditions, what you need is a worker’s union,” said a feminine, familiar voice behind him. Gideon’s stomach dropped as he whirled around to find his wife, gorgeous in a blue wool overcoat with frog clasps marching down her generous bosom, an outfit suitably militaristic.
Her green eyes met his and then slid cooly away.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I might ask you the same thing.”
“I am here on a business matter.”
“So am I,” Cora replied, lifting her chin. With her was a petite woman with brown-sugar curls pinned to her head. She held Titi, looking on with excitement shining in her huge amber eyes. Miss Honora Caldwell. She was prettier than he remembered. If not for her penchant for thoughtless gossip, she would have been married years ago.
Yet she was not the one he wanted to seize by the scruff of her neck and march right out of there. Unfortunately, the last thing he could afford to do was cause a scene, and judging from the way his wife was glaring at him, she was one provocation away from launching into a tirade fit to rival Daisy’s.
“Belladonna won’t appreciate your interference,” he warned, low in Cora’s ear.
