Page 26 of The Shadow of Breninsol
Eleanor stopped herself from huffing out a breath as the chipped teapot had made its tour of the table to her. She wasnotin the mood to catch a nose full of the burnt smoky aniseed, any more than necessary.
“Money is beneath him. He won’t taint himself with it,” Lauressa said defiantly.
“I’m happy to taint myself with his money for him,” Milk mumbled.
This time Cookie snorted into his coffee, but it only spilled over his cup. Milk smiled a thanks at Julia as he took the cloth to dry the table.
“He takes paymentin full,” Calla said with an emphasis, “from the lords that lose to him.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cookie muttered over the giggling coming from Lauressa and Calla’s end of the table.
Veronica rolled her eyes. “He sleeps with the lord’s wives as payment.”
“Or adds them to his orgies,” Lucy said, waggling her dark brows over her cup of the grim tasting brew.
“He's sired some of their heirs, but no-one will admit it,” Mirabella added in a salacious tone, with a sly smile on her lips, making Eleanor suspect there was something more behind her words.
An uneasy feeling washed over Eleanor, a feeling far deeper than the smell of the mouldy cheese and the sight of the sludge-like porridge. Like generals plotting a campaign, the courtesans discussed their strategies, their eyes glittering with enthusiasm as they detailed their plans to captivate as many courtiers as possible. She disliked the Petals' blatant discussions of their plans to ensnare the unsuspecting lords, their hushed tones grating on her nerves. Was this what life had truly boiled down to, for everyone to relentlessly strive for a better life like this?
“You’ve all had plenty of evenings to catch His Grace andHis Lordship’s attention. I doubt you will now. They’ll bebeggingMirabella and me to be their Favours next Season.” Annabella declared, her eyes narrowed to slits as she focused on the top of Veronica’s head. Veronica's eyes were once again glued to her book, and she had returned to her earlier pretence of ignoring everyone in the room.
“We’ll see. The Collection starts next week,” Iris said flatly, as she helped herself to the teapot.
Eleanor nearly spilled her disgusting contraceptive tea.
Next week…?
The week-long bidding on the Courtesans determined who would become a Favour. A bidding war that Eleanor wanted no part of and had no control over.
Iris continued talking as she skilfully avoiding the chipped spout. “It never takes the lords long to realise if they want you or not.”
“Andtheywould never go for you,” Jasmine added with a pointed look at Annabella.
“And why not?” Mirabella pouted, sticking her pink rosebud lips out as much as she could. Eleanor wasn’t certain if it was an act or simply her inclination for juvenile behaviour.
“Besides His Lordship being the richest noble, aside from the king—” Iris pointed out.
“Doubtful,” Lucy muttered loudly, as she determinedly buttered what she could of the stale bread.
Ignoring Lucy's interruption, Iris continued, “and he would need an equally noble wife to be a good match for him and for their heirs.”
“Why would a noble wife want her husband’s riches shared with a Favour?” Jasmine added and pulled her patterned shawl over her shoulders. Despite the fading of its once-vibrant hues to a soft, muted palette, the shawl Jasmine wore felt incredibly precious, a comfortable and familiar garment that was like a second skin to her.
“Lord Littlcharred doesn’t think so,” Veronica muttered into her book.
The cold draft, sharp and biting, snaked through the gaps in the kitchen window frames, making the women pull their shawlstighter around them. Yet, the chill of Veronica's words settled far deeper, casting a heavier mood over the morning's gathering.
“Oh, no? That lord of yours could do no wrong,” Annabella sneered.
“You’ll need to be careful with that one,flower,” Iris cautioned. “Keep your wits about you. You never know.”
Veronica snapped her book shut. “He’s not like that. The others might be, but he’s not. He’s good and kind.”
Eleanor, along with Milk and Jasmine, couldn’t resist the urge to roll their eyes at that comment. Young and naïve was a recipe for disaster.
“Whatever happens, your debt to the old bat will need paying, infull,” Iris reminded her and all of them.
Eleanor doubted whether this lord of Veronica’s could pay her debt, as she’d been at The Ladies Grace longer than Eleanor. They’d all known their debts had steadily increased the longer they were at The Ladies Grace and Madam Grace wouldn’t hesitate to add future debts. If Lord Littlcharred, whoever he was, was landed, then it was possible he could afford Veronica’s debt, but who was she to shatter the young woman’s dreams by bringing her crashing back to reality? Veronica and some of the other younger ladies believed in stories where the handsome prince would appear and save his beautiful princess for a happy and loving life together forever.
