Page 88 of A Story of Love

Lori watched helplessly as Lucy scurried off down the hall before glaring up at Barker. “You can release me now.”

“Not until yer back inside. Go on, now,” he said, nudging her backwards into the room.

She growled at him but shuffled back two steps. “Where is Mr. Gregg this morning?”

“Somewhere else.” He jerked his chin at her tray. “Go’won and eat yer food afore it’s cold.”

“Care to join me?”

He chuckled. “I awready ate, Miss Fonty-Not.”

“It’s pronounced fon-te-no,” she corrected. “No t sound at the end.”

“Ain’t that wot I just said?”

She couldn’t help smiling. “It was close.”

He began to shut the door.

“Wait!”

He paused and lifted an eyebrow. “Aye?”

Did every man in the whorehouse know how to raise one eyebrow? Was it a prerequisite for being a privateer?

“I’m bored,” she said.

His brow furrowed. “Er—”

“Why don’t you come inside and keep me company?”

He gave her a startled look before comprehension dawned. And then he laughed. “Oh, no, miss. ‘is loreship would ‘ave me guts for garters, ‘e would.”

Lori smiled slyly. “He can’t get angry at what he doesn’t know, can he?”

Barker laughed, his easy dismissal of her offer reminding Lori that she was employing her very elementary seduction technique on a man who was living in a brothel, surrounded by prostitutes.

She tried a different tack. “Surely he wouldn’t get angry at you just for talking?”

“You ain’t wantin’ to talk, are ye?”

He looked so amused that she couldn’t lie.

“No. I was hoping I might somehow trick my way out of this room.”

He chuckled. “Aye. And get me sacked in the bargain.”

“Oh, very well,” she said, making a point to look chastened and defeated. She gestured at her head. “My hair is a disaster. I need somebody to help me wash and dress it properly,” she lied. “Couldn’t you send one of the maids up? Perhaps Lucy?”

“I’ll ask Mr. Gregg.”

Lori feigned a look of surprise. “Does Mr. Gregg count ladies hairdressing among his many skills?”

Barker gave a full belly laugh and waved a huge forefinger at her. “Yer a caution, you are! I’ll fetch a lass fer ye.”

“Could I also have some paper? Ink? A desk?”

He looked perplexed, his mind obviously sifting through her request and trying to figure out how she could use any of those items to escape. After a moment he said, “Er, I don’t see why not, but I’ll need to ask Mr. Gregg.”