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“And Master Gallant? Is he as well-endowed and liberal?”
Madame Devereux gave Greta a stern look. “Take care, ma cherie, if you mean to suggest that I am one to flout the rules in favor of the heavier coin purse.”
Chastened, Greta replied, “Your pardon, Madame, but what Master Gallant has proposed must surely be unacceptable.”
“I approved his proposition.”
“But he means to claim me! He admitted that he had no intention of winning Miss Lily for her sake.”
With unconcern, Madame Devereux sipped her wine. Her nonchalance made Greta wonder if the proprietress had been a party to the charade from the beginning.
“So you will spend a week with Master Gallant,” Madame Devereux pronounced after selecting another confection. “Poor Miss Lily will, no doubt, be disappointed.”
“Poor Miss Lily?” Greta cried, aghast.
“You will be the envy of many a member.”
Greta could hardly believe her ears. “You sanction this trickery of his?”
“It was very naughty of him but quite clever as well.”
Greta felt her jaw drop. “I protest! I will not acquiesce to his deception.”
“You agreed to the terms.”
“But that was because I thought he sought to have Miss Lily—not me. And will he expect that I shall take the role of a submissive? I vow I will not!”
Madame Devereux sighed. “I know not his intentions, but I would you not give me grief on this. The terms had been set, and if you shirk, it will set a very bad precedent here. As a member, you took an oath to follow rules.”
“But—”
“I must have order preserved.”
Greta looked away in anguish, feeling all the dismay of a child who had learnt she was not preferred by her parents. Madame Devereux clearly favored Master Gallant. Greta was almost tempted to quit her membership, but where would she turn? There was no place like the Inn of the Red Chrysanthemum. Even if there were another establishment of its kind, would she feel as comfortable there? She would have to start anew...
“I am not without compassion, ma cherie. If Master Gallant has no interest in Miss Lily, I will grant her to you at the end of your sennight with Charles.”
“Thank you, Madame,” Greta muttered.
With a heavy heart, she took her leave. She supposed she ought not be surprised that Madame Devereux would cast her support for Master Gallant, but Greta had thought his tactic so outlandish that even Madame would be unable to condone it. Her discontent with the proprietress turned into greater resentment toward Master Gallant. Mister Gallant. She would not defer to him. No matter how capable he might be. While it was true that watching him with Miss Lily, his performance not unlike that of an accomplished musician plying his instrument to produce the most inspired effects, had aroused her, and her interest had been momentarily pricked, she had not been with a man, in any capacity, in years. Nor had she any intention of taking on a partner of the opposite sex. But he and Madame Devereux had consorted to force her hand.
Greta pressed her lips into a grim, determined line. She would fulfill her obligation and spend the sennight with Mister Gallant, but she would make him rue his decision to claim her.
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