The Trouble With Sin (Devilish Vignettes (the Devil DeVere) #2)(16)

This was the third time in a week that one of her clients had failed to keep his scheduled appointment. It made no sense when she'd always been in such high demand. Known as the exotic and mysterious Jewel of the East, Salime was the most sought-after courtesan in all of London. She now wondered if after nearly five years of reigning supreme, her star had begun to fade.

No, it was unthinkable! No woman in all of England could equal her skills in the erotic arts. She had taken meticulous measures to ensure no man would ever become bored with her. Just as a concubine only had one night to couch with the sultan, Salime had adopted a policy of never accepting the same gentleman into her bed twice. By offering her clients an erotic experience that would never be repeated, she also guaranteed she would never be forgotten.

Given the exorbitant rates clients paid for Salime, she had always benefitted from preferential treatment. Until now. Change had come with Mrs. Hayes' retirement, and none of it to Salime's benefit. To her misfortune, the famous bawd had passed the baton to Salime's greatest rival, Kitty Matthews. As the number two courtesan of King's Place, Kitty made no secret of her resentment of the one she called “the heathen whore.”

Kitty's first act of retaliation was to demand a higher percentage, raising the procuress' poundage from five shillings per guinea to ten. It was unfair in the extreme, but Salime had little choice but to remain at King's Place. In truth, life in the brothel was little different from that of the Imperial Harem, a place where rivalry for favor was a way of life. The only difference was now, thanks to Efendi, Salime had the benefit of Mustafa to defend her person, even if he could do nothing to protect her livelihood. For that, she had only herself.

"Come, Mustafa," she ordered her eunuch. "I have need of answers."

Snatching up a veil to conceal her face, Salime departed her private domain for the more public areas where, unlike the others who had to seek out their clients, Salime rarely had cause to appear. At the entrance to the opulent reception rooms, she accosted the first wooden-faced servant she encountered.

"Baron Winthrop, has he not arrived? He was appointed to see me this evening but has not appeared in my chambers. Perhaps he has taken to cards or other entertainments?" she asked.

"No, Madam Salime. He is not at cards." The servant's gaze shifted away from her face to focus somewhere over her left shoulder.

Perhaps it was not precisely a perjury, but something was not right. She knew it in her bones. "Then you have seen Lord Winthrop?"

The footman's gaze darted about the lavish room and then to the soaring frescoed ceiling with its massive Venetian crystal chandelier. "Aye. I seen him," he confessed.

"That is all you have to say?" Salime placed her hands on her hips. "It seems you would make me draw the truth from you in slow agony, much like a bad tooth? Perhaps Mustafa would be a more effective tooth drawer than myself?"

She half-turned to the giant eunuch who stood behind her with arms crossed over his massive chest. Her threat was not without effect. The footman's formerly deadpan eyes widened.

"His lordship came as appointed, Madam Salime, but I was instructed to conduct him to Madam Kitty's chambers."

"To Kitty?" Salime frowned. "And there he remained?"

"To the best of me knowledge."

Salime's frown deepened to a full-blown scowl. "And the evening last," she continued, "did you also conduct Sir Phineas Weatherby to Kitty's chamber?"

"Those were my instructions, madam." He added apologetically, "I only follow the orders of the one what pays my wages."

And that was Kitty.

It would do little good to castigate the servant any further. He was not to blame for following orders. Hiding her increasing distress behind a tight smile, Salime slipped a few coins into his palm. "You will tell no one we have spoken." With gold bracelets clanging, and silver bells on her slippers jangling, Salime spun away.

Kitty was poaching her clients! It was unconscionable. But how, when these patrons specifically requested Salime? Her mind whirled with this puzzle. Kitty was attractive enough in the common English way, but she had never come close to challenging the allure of the exotic Jewel of the East. Now there were three in one week?

Suddenly the pieces began falling into place.

They were small things at first, trifles hardly worth mentioning, that had disappeared from her rooms—a bracelet, a couple of silver bells, a scarf. But over the past few weeks, Salime had noticed items of her clothing had also gone missing. At first she had suspected one of the chambermaids of theft but then wondered what a simple English girl would do with a pair of Turkish trousers or a bejeweled girdle.

How stupid she had been. The answer was now so obvious. Her adversary intended to usurp her place. It was not the first time a rival had attempted to destroy her, but she swore it would be the last.

Armed with this resolution, Salime marched to Kitty's apartments where a burly servant guarded the entrance—a servant who wore distinctly Eastern clothing. Her certainty was increasing by the second.

The servant's brows furrowed. "Madam Kitty is occupied with a guest."

"Is it Lord Winthrop she entertains?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

"Then I will see for myself. Stand aside," Salime commanded.

The servant puffed his chest, refusing to budge.