Claus sensing her agitation went to her side. “My Lady,” he started to say but she held up a hand to silence him.
“He likes me a whore, as he likes you a tailor. He allows me the guise of the theatre because it is his way of allowing his favorite whore to court. In his eyes, I am no more a theatrical actress than you are his brother.” Therese’s eyes burned; her mouth, a twisted grimace. “And a pity to him for not seeing us as we truly are.”
“You mustn’t believe such things. Duir means only half of what he says.”
“Ahh, but the half he does mean leaves scars, or have you forgotten? My skull bears the memory of his brutality.”
Therese and I hadn’t the chance to discuss the night Duir struck her, and unsure of what to say, I cleared my throat in an attempt to buy time. Therese, naturally, saw through this tactic.
“You are loyal to him beyond any man’s deserving, Virago. How I hope he never does anything to dissuade your devotion. You never wore pain well.” She closed her fan with a clap.
Her words were blunt with truth and carried the weight of stones. If I seethed, I didn’t show it; if her words stung, I would endure the bite and smile from beneath the venom. Those who have secrets such as mine know the burden of endurance well and are familiar with this toil. What were words compared to the physical ache I knew every waking minute?
I took the torn dress from Claus, deposited it on my worktable, grabbed the pack containing the velvet, and made my way to the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Let us have ale,” I said, and left them to follow me.
Once settled in the kitchen, and the drinks were poured, I sat opposite Therese.
I could tell she now struggled to regain her composure after her outburst. She fidgeted and reached appreciatively for Claus standing by her side.
“Shall we have a toast?” Claus entreated, one hand on Therese’s shoulder while the other raised his mug.
“To King Duir, long may he reign and long may his men bugger my ladies!” Therese toasted as she brought the mug to her lips.
“Ahh, but you should have been a poet!” I commented.
“To the devil with poetry! I find my trade much more…” She let a hand drop to the curve of Claus’s rear. “Creative.”
“Indeed, now tell me quickly your other business before I must retreat to court, where I am sure to be missed.”
“Where is Sylvain? It is with him I have business.” Her eyes settled on the pack containing the velvet. “How goes your work on the coronation garments? Surely, you must have something quite splendid in mind.”
“Sylvain is out,” I answered steadily. I did not move the pack or give any indication I’d seen her obvious curiosity. I adopted the old adage of “least said, soonest forgotten,” and chose to ignore the second question.
“Pity,” her eyes lingered another moment on the pack.
“Or perhaps Sylvain is lucky,” I interjected. “I can’t imagine what task you would have him attempt if he were here.”
“I have been given the gift of four peacocks.” Her eyes darted from the pack to my face in anticipation of my reaction to this strange news.
“Peacocks? Why in the world would you be given peacocks?” I asked, half laughing as I tried to imagine the birds strutting through the halls of Therese’s brothel.
“In payment for services rendered, of course,” she answered smugly. “They will have the reign of the inner courtyard and are quite beautiful, but I cannot get near the creatures. I seek his advice on those I intend to keep as pets.”
“What do you mean to do with the birds you shan’t keep as pets?” I asked curiously.
Her smile curved into a wolfish grin and her eyes gleamed greedily. There has always been something ferocious about Therese when it came to consuming those things she thought above her stature.
“Why, we shall feast upon them, of course!” she exclaimed. “Why shouldn’t the ladies and I know some creature comforts? An occasional scrap of fine meat is more than due us!”
Hearing her talk in such a way brought to mind something Sylvain said after first meeting Therese: She is glutinous and greedy, and worse, desperate. If a more dangerous combination exists, I cannot think what it is.
Now I realized precisely what he meant.
“I will be sure and tell Sylvain of your visit.”
Before she answered, she raised a finger to her lips, and leaned her chin on the heel of her hand.
What was she thinking? I wondered. I despised the smirk I saw forming behind her hand.
She let her hand fall. “It would be most appreciated. Their current temperaments are not suited to my courtyards, and I am anxious to tame them.”
“Of course,” I answered, and drained my mug in hopes of ushering the departure of my guests.
Therese nodded appreciatively, drained her mug, then stood to leave.
“Since you are in court, Sir.” A shy smile appeared on Claus’s lips. “I am wondering if I may ask a humble favor?”
I looked from Claus to Therese, and seeing an unexpected twinkle in her eyes, realized there were ulterior motives to their visit. It was my folly to not see through the charade earlier. Rare were the occasions Therese visited without some secret agenda.
Taking my silence as permission to continue, Claus rushed forth his request. “My brother is a musician of the highest caliber. As you are talented with tailoring, so is Seton with the lute. May there be any chance you might persuade the King to hear him?”
I narrowed my eyes at such a bold query. Therese must have sensed my indignation for she quickly took up his cause.
“Surely Duir would hear the man. He is gifted beyond measure, Virago, and you know I would never bother with such a thing if I wasn’t certain he were worthy of the court.” She found her
