The door opens with the second course—lamb cutlets, roasted potatoes, and green beans—and I wait for that to be served and for everyone to take a few bites.
“Can you explain the nature of the blackmail?” I say. “Does it come from a former lover?”
“Certainly not.” She sets her fork down with a decisive clink. “I am very careful, Miss Mitchell. I would not associate with any man who might do such a thing.”
“And you know that because...?”
She blinks, as if taken aback by the very question. “Because they are men of honor.”
“If you mean that they are wealthy?—”
“That hardly makes them honorable,” she says archly. “In fact, in my experience, most dishonorable men come from my own class. I say they are honorable because they choose the companionship of widows over... other options.”
“Serving maids and sex workers?”
Lady Inglis chokes on her cutlet, and Gray makes the smallest noise of warning.
“This is why I take charge,” I say. “Dr. Gray doesn’t even likehearingme ask these questions. He certainly wouldn’t ask himself. You say your lovers are honorable because they choose mature, unattached women rather than seducing young ones.” I pause. “I probably shouldn’t include sex workers in that. A fair and respectful exchange is always better than seducing serving maids.”
Lady Inglis only stares. Not at me, but at Gray. Rather like Dickens did last night.
“Miss Mitchell has strong opinions,” he murmurs, “and no difficulty voicing them.”
“If that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop,” I say.
“No, it is just... unexpected. You are... very young, and I did not expect...” She manages a smile. “Although, I suppose, if Duncan hired you as his assistant, I should have known you’d be more than you seemed.”
“She is,” Gray murmurs.
I decide to set aside the question of honorable men for now. From what I understand, Gray’s lovers are usually widows, and I agree that is preferable to other options in this world. Sex work is often the course of desperation—and the source of venereal disease. Unmarried women of his own class likely know nothing about the art of preventing pregnancy. And while sex between men and their household staff is common, it’s the most problematic of the options.
Whether choosing widows is “honorable” or not, it has nothing to do with whether a man wouldn’t blackmail a past lover. My experience—as both a woman and a cop—tells me to be very careful presuming a lover would never blackmail you because once you’ve left them, they can become a very different person. At sixteen, I made the boneheaded mistake of sending a risqué picture to a boy. I thought I was being sexy—and clever—sending a shot where I was clearly naked but all the “naughty bits” were hidden. Also, he was the sweetest guy, one who would absolutelyneversend it to his friends when I broke up with him.
Lesson learned.
Still, this is not a point I can argue. I’ve had friends swear up and down that it’s safe to send nude pics to their boyfriends, and I’ve had boyfriends who were offended that I wouldn’t send them nude pics. So I’m not fighting Lady Inglis on this. I just know what I know.
“Can you explain the nature of the blackmail?” I say after a few bites of the cutlet, which is really very good.
“Letters of an intimate nature,” she says, and I nearly choke on my mouthful.
I manage to swallow and dab my napkin at my lips to hide my reaction.
“Letters you had sent to a former lover?” I say as evenly as I can.
“No.”
I look up at her.
She continues, “I sent them to someone I have been involved with for many years. He was a dear friend of my husband and became my friend as well. After my husband passed...” Her cheeks color, just a bit. “Eventually, we grew closer.”
“I understand.”
“It did not happen while my husband was alive,” she says firmly. “Nor even shortly after his death. I did not have such feelings for this friend until significantly later. But since then, our friendship is periodically... more intimate.”
Friends with benefits, Victorian-style? That actually surprises me. Not the sex part but the friendship part. Friendship between men and women isn’t common in this time. Itcan’tbe common in a world where women are guarded as if any man who is alone with them for five minutes will have them against the nearest wall.
Gray and I fight that battle constantly, dealing with the presumption that he only hired me so we can be alone together, and if we are alone together, it’s clearly for sex. What else would he want with me?
