“If you don’t release her right now,” Trudy declared, hands on her hips, “you know Silva will cast you out and you won’t be invited back.”
“Aw, all right, all right,” he said, but he did not release Karigan without planting a wet smooch right on her lips.
“Master Welles!” Trudy cried.
“Bleah,” Karigan said.
The man giggled like a schoolboy, while Karigan scowled in disgust and wiped the residue of whiskey off her mouth with the back of her hand.
Master Welles staggered and put his hand out to the wall to hold himself up. Trudy rolled her eyes.
“Would you help me?” she asked Karigan, taking one of the man’s arms. “I want him in room thirteen.”
“Um, all right.”
Karigan took Master Welles’ other arm and the two of them guided the unsteady man down the hall.
“Didya know I’m the harbor master?” he asked Karigan.
“No,” she replied.
“Well, I am.” He sounded very proud, as he should. The harbor master was a significant position in any port town. And, Karigan supposed, the harbor master was exactly the kind of important gentleman the Golden Rudder catered to. She wondered what his fellow citizens would think if they saw him now.
When they reached room thirteen, Trudy assisted Master Welles up onto the high bed.
“Loni will come later,” she assured him. “Right now you need some rest.”
“You could stay with me,” he said, patting the bed next to him. “Both of you.”
“I’m afraid not,” Trudy said. “It would make Loni jealous, you know.”
“I s’pose you’re right,” he said, eyes half closed. “Hate to disappoint her.” He rolled to his side and plumped his pillow. With a fading voice, he murmured to Karigan, “That Trudy…” And in short order he began to snore.
“I’m sorry about this,” Trudy told Karigan, pulling off one of Master Welles’ boots, “and I appreciate your help. Silva likes to keep things orderly here, and she really would have barred him from the Rudder if he got rough or unmanageable. Zem isn’t just a gardener, you know.” She slid the second boot off and draped a blanket over the sleeping man.
Karigan didn’t know what to say.
“I realize you’re not comfortable here, or around us,” Trudy continued. “Particularly around me, I’m thinking.”
“Well, I—”
“Never mind,” Trudy said. She bustled to the bedside table and lowered the lamplight. “You were raised in a respectable family that loved you. You’ve no business being near a brothel.”
And her father did? Karigan ran her hand through her hair in an attempt to soothe a sudden flare of anger. She was so very tired. The revelation about her father would have been enough to contend with on its own, but the whole incident with Fergal and its aftermath positively sapped her. Not for the first time she wished Captain Mapstone were here to take over the reins, to solve her problems. She wished she’d never heard of the Golden Rudder, much less ended up as one of its guests. But here she was, and without the captain’s guidance. She had only herself to rely on. Of course, she didn’t think she’d really want the captain in on this little detail of her father’s life, though the thought of the captain giving Stevic G’ladheon a piece of her mind on the subject made Karigan smile.
Trudy straightened cushions on a window seat, Master Welles’ snoring filling the chamber. She must have taken Karigan’s silence as confirmation of her statement, for she continued, “You have a wonderful father, but mine wasn’t so kind.”
“You know my father?”
“We all do.”
Karigan believed Trudy hadn’t meant to be cruel, but the simple words were like a knife plunged into her gut. Of course her father knew all the ladies of the Golden Rudder.
“We don’t all know him in the way you are thinking, but he is very nice to us nevertheless. Brings us gifts and kind words.” Trudy set the last cushion in place and took up a rumpled throw, which she began to fold. “No, my father was not so kind. I ran away to hide from his beatings, but the streets were no better.” She turned to Karigan, and Karigan could see, even in the dim light, how haunted her eyes were. “There are those on the street who prey on the likes of me.”
Karigan shuddered. She knew it was true. There were those who lived in the shadows, those who “respectable” citizens like herself did not see, or chose not to see.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” she said.
Trudy shrugged. “If not for Silva rescuing me, taking me in and feeding me, keeping me warm, I’d be dead. Or worse. I’m one of the lucky ones. Silva lets me stay even if I haven’t many clients.”
“Not many—? Oh.” Karigan guessed women were less apt to seek out company in a brothel and that Trudy cultivated a more particular clientele.
“I will admit I’m rather in demand as a partner in Knights,” Trudy said with a half smile. “I’m not bad at Triples or Black Queen either. In fact, I win an awful lot. But I also have a few devoted clients.”
“Um, oh.”
“Is that all you have to say?” There was an amused gleam in Trudy’s eye.
“Yes.” Karigan had known throughout her life, due to the clan business and its position in society, all kinds of people, including those who favored their own gender in relationships. In fact, there was a pair of gents who owned a highly regarded tailor shop in uptown Corsa who were one of the clan’s earliest and most loyal customers, eventually becoming close family friends. Growing up with visits from Joshua and Orlen—or Uncle Josh and Uncle Orry, as Karigan called them—she saw them as little different from anyone else in her life and regarded them with great affection.