may I talk to you?” She shuts the door behind her. “Why won’t you help me?” She comes forward. “Is it because I refuse to come to you privately?”
“No.”
“If you help me, I will agree to see you from time to time.”
“No.” He frowns. Is she trying to make him more upset? “I don’t want you to come to me because we made a bargain, Mallory. I want you to come to me because you want to.”
“I’m too busy around here to want to do anything, sire. But you don’t seem as if you are too busy tonight to help me. So why are you saying no?”
“I’m saying no because I don’t want to do it.”
“You don’t want to be with me?” Her voice is soft, cajoling, her brown eyes large like a baby fawn’s.
“Not like this.”
“I know you must think him vile, but if you touch me, he won’t touch me. Don’t you want that? In some way, this is to protect me.”
“There must be another way.”
“There isn’t,” Mallory says. “Not at the moment. The lord wants to perform and can’t. This makes him angry, first with himself, and then with me. He says I judge him for his malady, and no matter what I try to do or say to let him know it’s not true is wrong. Unfortunately, the pressure of my willing body works on him in reverse. But then you appeared to us, sire, to me and Margrave! Afterward, the lord told me he hadn’t felt as aroused and happy in many years.”
“Good for him. Nothing I enjoy more than hearing I make that man happy and aroused. But you’re not one of Tilly’s girls. You’re a maid.” Julian is trying to shut his heart to her. “Just do your job and stay away from him.”
Mallory wrings her hands. “The Baroness allows me to be with him because he promised her he wouldn’t really touch me. He is my only customer. Mostly all he does is look, because that’s all he can do, and that’s the truth. I only do it to make a little money on the side.”
“What’s it to me?”
“The other girls get paid more, and I work so much harder.”
“So complain, Mallory. Speak up. The Baroness says you never say a word.”
“What’s there to say!” The girl takes a deep breath, and then lowers her deathless voice. “Listen to me, sire, please.”
Julian closes his eyes, to avoid looking at her. He wants to put his hands over his ears to not hear her.
“You’re an idling satyr,” she purrs, reaching for him, caressing him through his silk hose. “Why waste your unused pillar of gold? Put it to use, sire. Put it to good use.”
“Don’t butter me up, I’m not toast. You know I don’t want to be idle,” Julian says after a beat. “I’m just not going up on his stage.”
“It’s your life and your stage,” says Mallory. “As it is mine. Decide if you want to be in the center of it or in the wings.” She takes his hand. “In the center of it, with me.”
“No.” He turns to the window. What is she doing to him?
“Please, Julian.”
She calls him by his name. Next to the things she did to him when they were together, it’s the ultimate seduction. Will the vixen stop at nothing?
“The lord said he’ll give me a crown if you lie with me,” Mallory says. “A crown, sire! A quarter of a pound. A crown for a few minutes of your time. I make a shilling a week. I have to work five back-breaking weeks to make one crown. The other smuts, with all their experience, make three pennies a customer. Even Brynhilda’s tits fetch her barely six. And the lord is offering us a crown! Why can’t you help me? You did it the other night.”
“The other night, I did it for free.” He pulls his hand away from her.
“You may have done it for free,” Mallory returns cruelly. “But Marg and I knew he was watching us. We got paid for touching each other, and I got paid a bonus for touching you. Two extra shillings after you broke in.”
“Did you split that with Margrave?”
Mallory’s face is cold. “She makes plenty as it is.”
Julian is astonished. “The other night … that was you performing for him?”
“I beg pardon, sire, I hate to be impertinent, but … are you aware where you are? Where you and I both work?”
“Quite aware, thank you. I just thought you had been performing for me. My mistake.” Julian stares into his hands. This is Josephine’s acting life. Mary Collins told her lady mother: all she wanted was to be up on a stage. Josephine told him she invented a stage everywhere she went. Well, here is what the stage looks like in 1666.
Minutes pass. He pulls up his velvet sleeve, counts the ink dots. Seven. A week has passed since his first night here with her. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll do it. But tell your lord it’s a crown only if he leaves the room and spies through the hole.” Julian pauses. “It’s two crowns if he stays in the chair.”
Mallory beams. Julian doesn’t beam.
Without hesitation, Fabian agrees to two crowns. They should’ve asked for more, Julian thinks, as he pushes the heavy bed farther away from the man’s repugnant feet, and he and Mallory undress. Julian wishes he had money he could offer her instead of the toady watching them from three floorboards away.
He and Mallory stand naked in front of each other.
Julian really wants to touch her.
Can he even perform in front of Lord Odious?
Why, yes, it turns out he can.
He does it by trying to forget that Fabian exists, though that’s less easy than it sounds, what with the barrage of winded wheezing commands spitting forth from the man’s foaming mouth as he sits in the nearby chair and directs Julian—as if Julian has no idea what to do on his own.
Why are you standing there? Kiss her. You’re in a pantomime of love, Fabian says. So pantomime.
They kneel on the bed. Julian cups Mallory’s face. It’s not a pantomime, he whispers to his maid and his princess, as he kisses her, kisses her until her nipples harden and he hardens and everything else on her softens.
Fondle her.
Pull on her nipples until she moans.
Tug on her until she squirms.
Lay her down, pour some wine on her.
Open her, eat her pussy.
I didn’t tell you to talk to her, what did you say to her?
Do you like that, Mallory?
Yes, sire.
Do not ask her what she wants or what she likes, you do what I want, you do what I like. Turn her over. Get behind her. Grab her, so she stops moving. Pull out all the way, so I can see. Now thrust all the way in. Tell her to hold on to the headboard if she needs to.
Hold on to the headboard, Mallory.
The orders are barked only to Julian. But Julian knows, Fabian is not barking. He is begging. He’s beseeching Julian to be his proxy with the maiden. All things he cannot do himself, Fabian does through Julian. But Fabian’s shallow panting is so distressing that at one point, Julian lies flat on top of Mallory, even though his instructions were expressly not to. He stops moving and covers her body with his to shield her from the fat lord’s jealous gaze. Easing one arm under her, Julian slows between her hips and presses his face against her cheek, to cover her ear. It’s going to