Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
His attention seems to go out to the floor, and I have a thought that he knows Merc went to see one of the women—and is taunting me on purpose.
“If that’s why you’ve come,” he drawls, “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m a businessman, not a preacher to address the morality of husbands gone astray—”
“I need to speak to you. Alone.”
Top Hat leans back in his chair, which is bigger than all the others. A throne, for a despot who rules by the fist, no matter his fine clothes.
“Now, why would you want to do that? Speak to me.” Then he drags out a last word, as if it’s the final line of a song: “Alone.”
“I have a favor to ask.”
The chuckle that comes back at me reminds me of his smile at that stream, a warning. Like a snake’s rattle.
“This should not surprise you,” he counters, “but I am not a man who’s inclined to charity.”
“I have something to offer you in return.”
I feel his eyes travel down me slowly, and I wonder what he makes of my borrowed outfit, the one that matches the clothing of those who live here. I do not meet his gaze. Instead, I’m focused on the diamond tiepin that secures the cravat at his throat. It’s the size of a marble. And then my eyes move to the pinkie ring on his right hand. I don’t recognize the blue and green stone, but I’m sure it’s very valuable.
His crew of men are silent and still, and given that I’m used to the masculine urge to pile on when it comes to grinding down something inferior, I’m surprised none of them taunt me. For sure they are soldiers of a sort, and like any regiment, they have a uniform: They’re all dressed in versions of what Top Hat is wearing, the finely tailored suits in dark colors accented with waistcoats and golden pocket watches that are obvious—and undoubtedly, weapons that are not. The one closest to him, who sits at his right elbow, has a beard. The others have mustaches or muttonchops.
“I am intrigued—to a point,” the man in charge says. “What of you, then.”
“I will meet with you alone.”
“These are my men.” As he indicates the assembled, his pinkie ring glitters in the low light. “There is naught which they do not know.”
I don’t believe that for a moment. “What I have to offer is only for you.”
“Are you trying to get your husband killed, then?” Top Hat drums his fingers on the table as if he’s getting bored. “For what he did upstairs with my daline? As I just told you, domestic disputes are not something I am interested in entertaining, and if you try to put me in the middle of one, I warn you, I may well settle things.”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
I can feel his stare hardening on me, and hold my ground at his tiepin.
“If we are ‘alone,’ I do not believe that will be his opinion.” Top Hat rises out of his throne. “Suit yourself, though. Far be it from me to turn down a lady’s request.”
Bending to the side, he lowers his voice and speaks to the bearded one. Then he indicates for me to come around to the wall behind the table. Something is triggered, perhaps by where he puts his foot, and a section slides back to reveal a shallow hall lit by a single lantern.
“After you.”
The gallant way he indicates forward is nothing to be fooled by, and I shouldn’t be as composed as I am while I step into the hidden hallway. I’m not frightened of him, though, for I know what I have to offer is invaluable, even though he thinks it’s just something as irrelevant as my body.
The panel slides back in place with a thump, and when he stays where he is, I turn around to face him.
“It’s customary for me to search for weapons.” He steps in close, and he smells clean and fresh, nothing of mead or sweat upon him. “You understand that women get no dispensation from this.”
His hands move around my waist and proceed upward until he meets my underarms. Then he leans in very tightly to reach around the small of my back and go up and over my shoulders.
“Nothing yet,” he says in a seductive way. “But let us see what we have here.”
I am without the red felt coat, wearing only a small white blouse that buttons up to the throat. He takes his time with the fastenings, revealing my camisole bit by bit.
Pulling apart the shirt’s two halves, he lifts up the lace and stares down at my bare breasts. “No weapons, yet. But we have to be sure.”
His fingers skate over what only Merc has touched, and I can’t keep my grimace to myself.