Page 56 of The Devil in Her Bed
“The only people who say that are the people who hate their own history.”
Francesca’s next arrow missed its mark, but Alexandra’s comment had been a bull’s-eye.
“Chandler and I… our history is built on lies,” she lamented. “He believes my actual parents are the reason our childhoods were taken from us. He believes I’m Francesca.”
Alexandra drew up on her right and Cecelia on her left, a post they often took when together, the most distraught of them bracketed in the middle of their abiding devotion and undying protection.
“We’re all women who are acquainted with carrying our secrets and sins…” Alexandra drifted off, no doubt thinking of the man they’d all buried so long ago. The man who’d raped her at seventeen. The man she’d killed that very night when Cecelia and Francesca had helped her bury the body. “They do not make us villains.”
“He thinks I am a whore.”
To her astonishment, Cecelia shrugged. “Ramsay assumed I was the whore of Babylon. He now respects the women who work for me, so I’m convinced hearts and minds can be changed. It’s not an insurmountable obstacle. It just takes a bit of creative navigating, is all.”
Francesca vehemently shook her head. “I refuse to prove my virginity to him.”
Cecelia further surprised her by laughing. “Not of your virginity, dear, but of his own perception. It shouldn’t matter to him whether or not you’ve had lovers. He certainly has had his share.”
“How do you know?” Francesca whirled on her, suppressing the urge to shake her friend or interrogate her. Had she heard anything? Had he been to her establishment? Did she know a woman who’d enjoyed him in bed?
The thought made her sick, which made her cross.
“He has a very cocksure manner, doesn’t he?” Cecelia looked into the distance, as if Chandler, himself, was standing there. “He walks as though he is a man who has pleasured many women. Who enjoys doing so. Who is proud that he can.”
Francesca screwed up her nose. “You can tell all that by a man’s walk?”
“Of course not. But there are certain things about the language of the body.” Cecelia made an insouciant gesture. “I’ve collected certain odd bits of data from my current vocation as the Scarlet Lady, and subsequent analysis has required that I excel at reading men. Their tastes, proclivities. When not to let them in my establishment. Who and what they’d want to be offered.” She ticked these off on her fingers.
“Why, then, doesheget to walk like he’s a lover, and I am expected to hang my head in shame?”
“Because you are a woman, obviously.”
Francesca ripped off her gloves, quite finished with enjoying herself. “That isn’t good enough. Not for me.”
“We’re getting off track here, Frank,” Alexandra said. “You are considering infiltrating the society that thinks nothing of enslaving little girls. Of burning entire households down to protect their interests. Our immediate concern is your survival.”
“That’s your immediate concern, not mine,” Francesca remonstrated. “I’m resolved, ladies. I will see this through or die trying. Best you get on board with that, or get out of my way.”
Cecelia retreated slightly as if she’d been slapped. Alexandra did the opposite.
Francesca felt immediate regret, but her lips didn’t seem capable of parting for an apology. Instead, angry tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and she had to turn away from them both.
It was Alexandra’s hand that landed on her shoulder, gently and unthreateningly.
“You survived the unthinkable,” she ventured. “When you go through something like that, it tempers you. It can break you down or forge you. It folds and shapes and sharpens you into something new, a weapon perhaps, and that is no small feat. But—”
“My mind is made up.” Francesca said. “I didn’t tell you two my plan to have you talk me out of it. I told you for the very reason you want me to tell him. In case…”
“In case you’re killed?” Cecelia threw her hands up.
“I’m not going to be killed.”
“You don’t know that. What if they find out? What if they’ve found out already? You could be walking into a trap for all you know.”
“Or they could be inviting their demise right into their lair. I appreciate the vote of confidence, you two.”
Alexandra put up a staying hand. “We’re not saying that we don’t trust your skills.”
“But no one should have to stand alone,” Cecelia added.
