Cora (Virtue & Vice #4)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CORA

A t the end of the alleyway two rapscallions had tried to dissuade her from entering, Cora encountered an iron door heavily fortified with bolts. In the center of the door was a cutout covered with iron. She knocked. The cutout opened and two startled eyes belonging to one blond-haired dominatrix stared at her.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Tulip said. Metal scraped. The huge door opened and Cora was admitted into a dimly lit space with a hard flagstone floor, rather menacing sconces mounted to the wall and…were those chains?

“I don’t mean to be rude, but what is this place?”

Tulip smiled.

“This is my dungeon,” Tulip said grandly. A dark look passed over her features. “Or it was mine, until Daisy showed up. Shall I show you the ropes, so to speak?”

“Please. I’ve never seen a dungeon before.”

On her last visit, the Flowers had only shown her the tamer parts of the brothel. Cora’s mother was an antiquarian, the rare female scholar who studied ancient artifacts to learn more about how people had lived. That was how she had met the late Duke of Gryphon, who collected such rarities. Cora tried to take her mother’s approach to observing minute details from an emotional distance as Tulip explained the purpose of each type of whipping device, from slim birch branches to ordinary riding crops to an intimidating-looking nine-tailed leather whip.

“This one is mostly for show,” Tulip explained. “The point isn’t to hurt anyone. A switch to the backside is something most of our aristocratic clients experienced at school. Some of them learned to relish it. No one is going to suffer lasting injury from a reddened bottom, but striking the kidneys, for example, could cause great harm. Knowing when and how to use these tools is the key to unlocking pleasure from pain.”

The chains were another prop used for a few specific clients, not ordinary visitors, as Tulip called the men who came to the House of Vice.

“My regulars trust me enough to be vulnerable. These are men who are in high levels of Society. Undoubtedly, you have met some of them.”

“Unlikely. I don’t really go out.”

“Your brother Eryx was?—”

“Stop right there.” Cora raised both palms and averted her eyes. “I don’t want to know, or need to know, what my brother or Annalise did or do here. That is not my business. This is only a—a learning experience for me,” she finished after searching for the right words.

“Apologies. We are accustomed to speaking openly.” Tulip smiled gently. “The point being, these gentlemen come to me because they know I will never mock their deepest needs or desires. They come to me for sex, yes, but more than that, they come to me because they don’t have to hide their true selves.”

This, Cora mused, was what she and Gideon were still missing. She didn’t quite trust him enough to be her true self with him yet. They were getting there—making progress faster than she had ever anticipated possible—but he was holding things back, and so was she.

Tulip heaved a sigh. “And then, there is Daisy. Who does precisely the opposite of everything I do.” She gestured for Cora to follow her behind a red curtain. Behind it was a peephole. “Some people love to watch other people have sex. It’s called voyeurism, which I assume is a word Mr. Wentworth has not and will not teach you.”

“Correct in both regards.” Cora shuddered despite the closeness of the cramped space. “This sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“It’s not for everyone, but those who enjoy it really enjoy it, such as…never mind. At any rate, Daisy is willing to let men tie her up and abuse her in any manner.”

Indeed, the dark-haired, large-bosomed woman in the red-themed room was bound in what appeared to be a deeply uncomfortable position while not one, but two, men penetrated her.

Cora’s eyebrows shot up. With Daisy blindfolded, it was difficult to say whether she was actually enjoying such treatment, but if she had to guess, Cora would have guessed yes. The men were certainly having a glorious time.

“Daisy doesn’t mind being submissive. I, personally, cannot stand it. I like to be in control at all times. This is one aspect of our rivalry, but the worst part is how Daisy constantly flouts the rules. The number one rule at the House of Virtue is that you do not intentionally poach one another’s clients. It’s normal for a new girl to attract more attention than the Flowers who’ve been here for a while, but Daisy has been nothing but a world-class cunt about inserting herself into the other girls’ affairs. She’ll do anything, with anyone, and while that is appealing to many of the men who come here, it’s against the entire ethos of the House.”

“Why don’t you throw her out?”

“Only Belladonna can do that, and Bella is missing. In the meantime, Daisy grabs an outsized portion of the money we earn, and Archie is too timid to confront her properly about the fact that she’s not turning over her obligatory portion to the House, either. You don’t get to live in Mayfair and not pay your way. Unlike other houses, we aren’t indentured servants here. A good percentage of our earnings are ours to keep, and we can leave whenever we want.” A catlike smile tipped up the corners of Tulip’s mouth. “That is why this is genuinely a house of reform. It takes time to save enough money to leave the profession. Bella gives us a way to do that.”

Cora wasn’t really thinking about the moral aspects of prostitution. She was thinking about that blindfold and how much she might enjoy that. Or the ropes. Maybe not in quite that same awkward position, and certainly not with two men at the same time. It did not take much insight to know that Gideon was not the kind of man who shared a woman he considered his, and she liked his possessiveness.

Wasn’t that a peculiar insight?

“Speaking of money,” Tulip interrupted her thoughts. “It costs a guinea to watch.”

“Oh.” It was a good thing she had long ago gotten into the habit of carrying money with her for the frequent occasions when her bicycle broke down and she needed to cart it home in a cab. Cora deposited a coin into Tulip’s palm.

“This has been enlightening, but I am afraid I must inquire whether Iris and Ivy are available to play billiards?”

The innocent-looking twins only looked the part.

“I believe they’re with Violet, who has recently taken up giving seances.”

“Seances,” Cora echoed, bewildered.

“Yes. Communing with the dead. Supposedly. Fleecing people out of every last farthing with her silly parlor tricks. I must admit she’s quite good at it, though, and it’s not as if Daisy is leaving enough customers to keep the rest of us busy. Sakura already left.”

Cora decided not to ask who Sakura was, or had been. Another Flower, she guessed.

Tulip pinched her temples. “I wish Violet really did have psychic powers and would give us some sort of useful answer as to where Belladonna is. This place is falling apart without her. No offense to Archie. He simply isn’t up to the task.” She jerked her head. “This way. It’s not as if I have any regulars coming in today, anyway.”

* * *

Hours later, Cora burst into Honey’s parlor with apologetic lies spilling from her lips and guilt like lead in her gut. This was going to have to be a very short visit if she wanted to make it home in time to meet the Dowager Lady de Lucey and Miss Kingston.

“I am so very sorry, Honey, I was delayed by Martha again,” she burst out. Titi jumped out of her basket and ran to greet her friend.

“Mrs. Wentworth seems to be taking up more and more of your time,” Honey said, cuddling Titi to her chin. Guilt flared within Cora at the hurt in her voice. She had spent longer at the House of Virtue than she meant to, and now she was shortchanging time with her friend.

“I really am sorry. She wants me to make a grand debut this Season, starting with the Blumford’s Ball this evening.”

Honey stroked Titi and avoided her gaze. “I hear Lady Eliza Wells Kepson is attending this evening. She’s newly widowed. Rather shocking that she’s going out in Society just months after her husband passed. If she were a countess or a duchess she could get away with flouting convention, but a mere baroness?”

This was startling news. Years ago, not long after Cora’s disastrous debut, Eryx had fallen hard for Miss Elisabeth Wells. She’d led him on for quite a while before abruptly throwing him over in favor of Baron Kepson.

“How did he die?” Cora asked, wincing at her own ghoulish curiosity. It was a natural thing to want to know. Hale and hearty men did not generally drop dead in their middle-age.

“He went out onto a pond on the Kepson property that hadn’t frozen over properly, and fell through the ice. No one saw him go in. He wasn’t found until the next day.”

“How awful.”

“She has four children to care for. All girls. The estate is entailed upon a distant relative. I understand she’s already been forced to move out of the house. The new baron has provided temporary quarters for her here in London with the understanding that she will seek a new husband to support her.”

Cora made a few hopefully-sincere sounding noises about conventions needing to give way to reality, but it was difficult to summon much sympathy for Eliza’s plight. They’d met during her year at finishing school, when most of the upper-class girls excluded both of them and there hadn’t been anyone else.

Eliza’s fickleness made Honey’s thoughtlessness seem charming by comparison. Honey was never meanspirited when she gossiped.

“Tell me what you’ll wear to tonight’s ball,” Honey shifted subjects. “I am unbelievably envious that you finally get to wear colors.”

“I wore colors long before I married, Honey.”

“Brown, gray, and navy are not colors, Cora.”

“They’re not white, ivory, or cream.”

“Which I am yet again stuck wearing. I would so love to have a colorful dress for once.”

An idea popped into Cora’s mind, a brilliant and perfect way to make up for the way she’d abused her friendship to go and learn about sex and how to play a game typically reserved for men. “Honey, you’d look lovely in yellow. It compliments your coloring, according to your lady’s magazine, right?”

“That’s what the guide says, yes.”

“Can I interest you in a gorgeous gold-tissue gown?” It would need a lot of tailoring to suit Honey’s petite physique, but it could be done.

Honey positively lit up. “You’re not serious?”

Cora nodded. “It’s yours if you want it. It doesn’t suit me at all, but it would make you look like a fairy princess.” She seized her friend’s hands. “You would look amazing in it. I’ll never wear it. Gideon has spoiled me with far too many gowns. Let me give you one of them.”

“You are undoubtedly the luckiest lady in London.” Honey sighed wistfully. “I wish I could find a man who gave me everything I wanted. Thank you, my dearest, loveliest friend.”

Cora refrained from pointing out that she had never wanted fussy clothing. She preferred comfort to fashion, but she didn’t want to sound like an ingrate. She took her leave soon thereafter.

Next time, she would find a way to break it gently to Honey that Martha Wentworth didn’t want her to publicly acknowledge the one friend who’d stood by her through thick and thin. Today’s visit had been too short.

Outside, Cora exhaled a long breath into the cold air.

She’d never felt so rotten in all her life.