A short time later, their hack stopped on Drury Lane in front of Theatre Royal. The driver opened the door and pulled the step down. “Is ya sure this is where ya want to be? It don’t open until this evening.” He glanced at each of them. “Or are ya here to rehearse?”
Lorelei bristled. “Do we look like actresses?”
“Ya both are pretty enough, for a fact.” A leering look came into his eyes. “Ya probably wouldn’t be wandering around with the paint and rouge on until later.”
Fiona frowned and her hand slid down her side. Lorelei quickly stayed her. No need to be brandishing a knife right now. “We are not actresses.”
The man smirked. “Doxies then? I wouldn’t mind taking out my fare—”
She handed the man a coin before Fiona would grasp what he meant. “Thank you for your services.”
He grasped the silver crown, which was more than twice the fare, and shrugged. “If you let me know which house yer working in—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes turning owlish.
Fiona’s knife flashed in her hand. Apparently, she’d understood the word “doxy.” She adjusted her hold slightly.
“If ye want to keep your manhood working, I suggest ye leave now.”
The driver didn’t wait to be told twice. He practically flew up to his seat, the hack rocking precariously as he slapped the reins and shouted at the horse. The startled animal took off at a gallop, the man’s hat flying away as he swayed for balance on the seat. It might have been comical except Fiona looked as though she had a mind to chase after him.
“You had better put that away before a constable shows up.” Lorelei hoped her voice didn’t shake. She hadn’t been expecting Fiona to actually flourish her knife. “We do not want to be arrested.” Good Lord. Alasdair would send them both back to Scotland on the next coach if he caught wind of something like that. “We need to be careful not to draw attention to ourselves.”
Fiona grimaced and bent to slide the knife back into her half boot. “The man insulted us.”
“That is true, but it is rather expected in this area.”
Fiona looked around. “’Tis a theater. I saw a play in Edinburgh once. ’Twas nae bawdy.”
“Neither are these. Or, at least, most of them are not.”
“Then why do ye call the place scandalous?”
“Because”—Lorelei gestured—“beyond this street lie the brothels.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “The houses the man was talking about?”
“Yes. I have always been curious, but Emily would never have agreed to let me come here.” She smiled and dug a hand-drawn map out of her reticule. “I doubt there are any…customers…this time of day, so we can take a stroll. What do you say?”
“Well, I didna come here to stand in the street and look at an empty theater.”
Lorelei laughed. “Let us proceed then.”
They continued down Drury Lane for several blocks before turning onto Russell Street. Lorelei paused at the corner to look up at the three- and four-story buildings, most of them brick-front. “What do you think?”
Fiona followed her gaze. “’Tis nae what I thought brothels would look like.”
“I imagine a lot of them in other parts of town do not look like this. After all, this is where the aristocrats come. I would love to see inside one of them.”
Fiona snorted. “I can just see your sister approving that.”
“She would not, of course.” Lorelei grinned. “There is a book that men buy that has a list of all the houses that provide—”
“Abook?”
“A booklet really. It’s calledHarris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies.It gives the names of the houses and descriptions of the…courtesans.”
“Did ye actually buy one of the booklets?”
“No.” Lorelei’s smile faded. “Emily’s first husband had a copy.”
