"La, ye're th' grandest… bloody… man!" she moaned.
Minutes later there came a discreet rap on the door, which made Tess start and Lewrie scramble for the dagger. "Who's there?" the girl squeaked.
" 'Tis Bob, Tess," a man said in a gruff voice. "Wi' yer vittles. No fear, 'at Roosky bastard's long gone."
Lewrie had to help shift the heavy chest, and unlock the door so the waiter could come in with another salvaged bottle of champagne and a tray covered with a napkin, which when whisked away, revealed a pair of sandwiches, and a dish of pickles.
"Two pound, six, sir," Bob told Lewrie, who was looking for his coin purse, "an' we'll settle th' reckonin' in th' mornin'."
"Looks like you gave as good as you got," Lewrie told him, noting the waiter's bruises, and the beginnings of a black eye.
"Lots better'n he, sir!" Bob said with a boxer's grin. "Him an' his manservant, both. Poxy bastards'll look like raw beef fer a week."
"He'll not ever come back, pray Jesus?" Tess fearfully asked.
"Ain't sayin' 'e won't try, girl," Bob reassured her, clenching his fists together and cracking knuckles, "but we've leave t'dump 'is arse in th' Thames, if he do, Roosky titles'r no."
Lewrie dug some money from a pocket of his coat and slipped the man the reckoning, with another pound note atop it for his efforts, and tipped Bob the wink.
"Mmm, roast duck!" Tess enthused once Bob had left, and she had lifted the bread to look at her sandwich. "Told ye the house sets out a grand table." She sat in the middle of the bed, cross-legged with her robe spread over her lap, shifting with delight as she took a bite and chewed. Lewrie poured her a glass of champagne and slid under the bed covers, using the borrowed quilt to drape his shoulders and chest like a Red Indian. "Damme, this is good." Lewrie agreed, after a taste.
"Hot mustard and some sorta red jelly… apple, it may be, all stirred t'gether," Tess said, smiling with pleasure after chewing and swallowing, "like wot ye serve with venison'r grouse?"
"Mm-hmm!" Lewrie agreed again, with his mouth full. "So… who was this Anatoli character?" he asked, after a sip of champagne.
"A… customer," Tess told him, looking uncomfortable with the subject. "First he come, was round Christmas… end of Terms, he calls it… from Oxford? Once th' week'r so, 'til th' night he… and I…" She frowned and squirmed a bit. "He went with no one special, 'til he lit on me, damn his eyes. T'other girls said he was a rough 'un, so I was leery, d'ye see? But he seemed nice enough, th' first time'r two."
"But then he turned brute on ye?" Lewrie gently probed.
"Aye, that he did," Tess spat, "an' askin' for me only, fer all night… like you," she added, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with hers, and flashing a brief, adorable grin. "Mind, 'tis a lot easier on a girl, with but th' one feller t'deal with, an' a lot o' them older an'… Well, I gets a lot more rest with th' older fellers… not like you, Captain Alan, that's fer certain. No sleep in you!"
She reached out to brush his hair from his brow.
Uh-oh! Lewrie thought at her gesture; Don't go fond on me!
"Him, though…," Tess said, turning pensive. "Ev'ry night, for a fortnight, an' him swearin' he'd buy me out, an' set me up an me own lodgin's for his own, brr! Mean t'say, 'tis a poor girl's fondest wish t'be set up good as a lady, but! Not with th' likes o' him, even was he rich as that Tsar o' his. Just wouldn't do it nat'ral, no, not him, an' wantin' me without 'protections'… in th' wrong..!"
She made an angry moue and swiped at her own hair, tossing her mane with anger and impatience.
"That sorry I am t'bring it up, though ye did ask," Tess said, "for 'Mother' Batson says her gentlemen don't wanna hear 'bout t'other customers' doin's, or who went before 'em, 'cause half o' what we sell is… illusion, d'ye see? Affection, attention… grace an' beauty, an' all that shite. Oops!" she pealed out a laugh as she covered her mouth with a hand for a second. "B'lieve me, Cap'm Alan, this bus'ness can be powerful strange sometimes. See there, in th' corner."
Lewrie looked where she pointed; there was a bundle of birch rods, which he'd taken for an old broom, or kindling for a Franklin-pattern stove.
"There's some… real 'Quality' sorts… who can't get goin' without ye whip their bare bottoms, an' tell 'em what bad boys they be!"
"And some who wish t'whip you?" Lewrie scowled.
"Bedamned if they will!" Tess declared. " 'Mother' Batson don't hold with her girls gettin' hurt… scarred up, more-like."
"And this Anatoli liked t'be whipped?" Lewrie asked.
"Oh no, not him," Tess said, after a big bite of her sandwich and a swig of champagne. "He cared more for puttin' it in my mouth or my bum-hole, an' all th' time tryin' t'sneak his cundum off whilst I'm kneelin' on all fours like a bitch-hound. Might start out havin' me th' normal, Christian way, but that never lasted long. And, do I ever balk, he'd go all sulky an' teary, first… slip me more money, order up more wine an' gin… said if he couldn't get somethin' he called vodka, then gin'd suit, and Jesus but he could put it away like water! He got drunk enough, he'd get mad, give me th' back of his hand a time or two, but then… the daft bastard'd start weepin' again, and tells me how much he loves me, for th' love o' God! Onliest way t'shut him up was t'kneel on th' floor an'… ye know. Then he was cherry-merry, again… for a time.
"One night," Tess said, leaning close to confide in Lewrie, "he got th' window open, an' stood on th' ledge, stark nekkid an' drunk as a lord, fer ev'ryone t'see… swearin' if I didn't be his alone, then he'd jump, and… swear on the Bible, Cap'm Alan, 'twas all I could do not t'give him a push!"
"Maybe you should have," Lewrie said, laughing.
"T'other girls'd complained about him, an' after I told 'Mother' Batson about that, she told him he wasn't welcome no more, thank God," Tess said with a forlorn look for a moment. She took a pensive bite of her sandwich and slowly chewed.
"Not the sort t'take 'no' for an answer, though, I take it?" he asked.
"Bob an' them say they can spot him, lurkin' in th' street most nights," Tess said with a shiver, "him an' his 'man.' I haven't been able t'go out with 'Mother' Batson, since."
"They let you out?" Lewrie enquired, imagining the possibilities.
"This house don't keep no slaves, Cap'm Alan," Tess bragged. "If we need t'go shoppin', see a show or somethin', 'Mother' will take us, with a couple o' th' burly lads, o' course. We can't be stylish, elegant, nor fetchin' in th' same ol' clothes all th' time. We're closed of a Sunday, o' course, and wot 'Mother' calls 'dark' on Mondays, just like th' theatres. Used t'be an actress, 'Mother' was.
"Would ye like t'meet me away from here sometime?" Tess coyly teased. "Come t'yer lodgin's? 'Mother' lets us, does she trust us."
"I don't think the Madeira Club'd admit ladies, even were they proper wives," Lewrie said with a chuckle of amusement.
"That's where ye lodge, is it?" she whispered. "No matter, for there's so many hotels an' taverns with rooms t'let. I'd walk out with you, Cap'm Alan… even does that mad Roosky bastard follow us all th' way. I'd be safe with you.
"Fact o' th' matter…," Tess cooed, leaning her head on his shoulder, putting an arm round his back. "There's gentlemen, an' there's real gentlemen, like you, an' do I have my druthers, I'd be with you fer tuppence, an' leave an earl fingerin' his purse. I like you, Alan Lewrie. An', 'fore God I like th' way ye bed me… like ye care, do I feel…" Before he could begin to pooh-pooh that notion, Tess was kissing him again, this time lightly, fondly… almost dreamily. Even with bread crumbs on her lips, it was… sweet.
"We'll see about walkin' you out," Lewrie told her, putting on a wide, amusing grin, "once we know this Russky bastard's no more threat to you, hmm? I know some people," he hinted darkly. "For now, though… could I reserve you for all tomorrow night?"