Page 113 of The Big Bad Duke

“What is this place?” Leila asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

“It’s a… bawdy house,” Gideon confirmed her suspicions, his voice neutral. “But a rather expensive and exclusive one.”

Leila’s stomach clenched with disgust and disappointment. “You work with people like these?” she said, unable to keep the grimace from her voice. “How are they better than the Brotherhood?”

“Because we don’t force our workers here,” came a smooth voice from behind them.

They turned to see a woman in a similar dress, wig, and paint as the one who had led them in, though this woman carried herself differently. She moved to close the door, then reached up to remove her elaborate wig, revealing jet-black hair. Without the towering hairpiece, she appeared younger and more natural, though no less striking.

She waved a graceful hand toward the chairs. “Please, sit.”

Leila remained rooted in place, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. “No, thank you.”

The woman’s expression didn’t change; her smile remained patient and understanding. “That’s your prerogative,” she said, her voice soothing and even. “But if your hesitation stems from the belief that the women who work here have no choice, I assure you, they do. They choose to be here. They love what they do—love making love, giving, and receiving pleasure.”

She paused, settling gracefully into the chair behind the desk, and studied Leila with sharp, intelligent eyes. “Does that surprise you? Perhaps because you haven’t felt the same?”

Leila felt her face flush hot. “I’ve been forced to please men before,” she said, her voice tight. “And I assure you, I didn’t relish it.”

The proprietress—who was clearly who this woman was—didn’t seem offended by Leila’s sharp tone. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her expression compassionate. “But that’s where you and the men and women who work here differ. They enjoy it. They find power in it, pleasure in it. There’s a difference between force and choice, between survival and desire.”

“Men?” Leila was genuinely surprised, her eyebrows rising. “You mean… harlots can be men, too?”

A genuine smile crossed the woman’s painted features. “Yes, we have a women’s wing as well, where men service the ladies who’d like to experience pleasure… sometimes for the first time.” Her eyes glittered with mischief as she looked Leila up and down appraisingly. “Perhaps you’d like to sample our services for yourself? I have several young men who specialize in… gentle introductions.”

Before Leila could respond, Gideon’s voice cut through the air. “That would not be necessary,” he said, his tone low and laced with unmistakable warning. His jaw was clenched tight, and she could see a muscle ticking in his temple. “And that’s not why we are here, Grace.”

The proprietress’s head snapped up at the sound of her name, her playful expression shifting to one of sharp attention. She narrowed her dark eyes on him, studying his face as if seeing him clearly for the first time. “Right,” she said slowly. “Why are you here?”

“To ask for a favor,” Gideon said, though his tone made it sound more like a demand than a request. “From your husband. I had no other way of reaching him, and he mentioned that if I needed assistance, he was willing to help. Or at least, I assume that’s what he meant.”

Grace paused, her fingers drumming a thoughtful rhythm against the fine wood of her desk. Then she gave a little wave with her fingers, the gesture both dismissive and decisive. “I will call for him.”

Gideon shifted his weight, and Leila caught a glimpse of something that might have been uncertainty in his posture. “As a matter of courtesy, I’d like to inform you that we are being hunted. Helping us would mean putting yourself and your business in danger.”

Grace didn’t flinch at the warning. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last, either. I’m living with a thief-taker—I know the risks that come with this kind of work.” Her eyes swept over them both, taking in their ill-fitting clothes and hastily made disguises. “But perhaps you’d like a change of clothes while we wait?”

“You won’t even ask us what we want your husband’s help for?” Leila demanded, slightly perturbed by the woman’s casual acceptance.

Grace shrugged. “I know who you are,” she said, tilting her head meaningfully toward Gideon. “And I have an inkling of why you are here. It’s my business to know things.”

“I thought it was your business to sell people’s bodies,” Leila countered, unable to keep the edge from her voice.

“We sell pleasure, not bodies,” Grace corrected airily. “The bodies remain free—that’s rather the point.” Her expression grew more serious, though her smile remained. “We are very particular about our clientele. If anyone threatens the safety of our workers, they are taken care of very quickly.”

There was something in her tone that suggested this wasn’t an idle threat.

“And occasionally you sell information,” Gideon prompted.

“Ah, yes.” Grace’s smile turned sharp, predatory. “But you know where our loyalties lie. We are against the same people, or you wouldn’t be here, would you?” She leaned back in her chair, studying them both with her intelligent dark eyes. “Our clients are known to be loose-pursed and loose-tongued when they’re… relaxed. But don’t worry—only the rich and unscrupulous really have anything to lose here.” Her gaze fixed on Leila with uncomfortable intensity. “If you have some skeletons in your closet, perhaps you shouldn’t visit our rooms after all.”

Leila instinctively stepped back. The movement was small, but Grace caught it immediately, and her smile took on a strange, unsettling quality that didn’t quite reach her dark eyes.

“I see,” Grace said quietly, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “But don’t worry. I promise your secrets, whatever they are, will stay hidden here. I would not dare anger the infamous Erebus.”

At the mention of that name, Gideon’s eyes flashed with something akin to fury, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

But Grace appeared unperturbed by his reaction. She stood gracefully and unhurriedly, moving to an ornate trunk in the corner of the room. She picked out several items of clothing, sorting through them with the eye of someone who knew her business well.