"Why?"
"The men were talking about bringing in a few whores."
Tressa sighed. She stopped and turned around. "Thank you."
"I'll be taking Henry to a local pub, if you'd like to join us."
"Most men would think Henry is just the right age for such a thing."
"Most men don't know Henry the way I do. It's a bad idea."
She bit her lip and looked into Jarrett's eyes. "Do you want me to take Henry to the pub?" Tressa felt awkward even asking. "I mean, so you can stay back with the other men and their, uh, entertainment?"
Jarrett grabbed Tressa's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I don't take pleasure in a woman who doesn't take pleasure in me."
Tressa nodded and continued up the path. There was no more to say. Instead, she focused on how to kill Stacia and get back to the life she'd always wanted.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Tressa took a quick look around the pub. She didn't recognize any of the regulars from The Rooster’s Wattle. She let out a little air and relaxed.
Staying back at the compound with the others wasn't an option. The women, with their painted faces and perfumed bodies, poured into their chambers, their laughter bringing the promise of a night of debauchery. Hutton's Bridge didn't allow prostitution. Keeping the family together was one of the more important rules in their town. When inbreeding became a concern, sex had to be regulated. Control was vital to their survival. Here, there were too many people. No one had to worry about the survival of their town. Pleasure and leisure were in abundance.
Sweet smoke filled the air. Ira hadn't allowed smoking in his pub. He was too worried it would burn down. Tressa had learned that the fear of fire was a monetary concern. The owners here were either very brave or very wealthy. One glance at the decor told her wealth was the answer.
Golden filigree tipped the statues on shelves near the ceiling. The room glistened and glittered. The men sitting at the tables gambled at cards. Stacks of coins spilled in front of them. The thrill of the game mattered more than the money they took home at the end of the night. It was a far cry from the dirt and dust in Ira’s pub.
Henry pushed ahead of Tressa, knocking her to the side with his elbow.
She wanted to say something, but she'd promised Jarrett she'd keep her mouth shut. Instead, she shot him a dirty glance.
"Come on, boys, let's grab a table." Jarrett flourished his black cape.
The room went quiet.
The servers scurried over to them before Tressa’s butt touched the bench.
“How can we help you?” A young blond smiled at Tressa. Her white teeth spoke of wealth. Even the serving girls probably had more money than Tressa did.
“We’ll take a side of meat, a loaf of bread, a bowl of grapes, and a flagon of your finest wine.”
The serving girl’s eyes sparkled as the boys poured water into their cups. “We just got in a shipment from the The Dragon’s Tongue Port, sir. The wine is perfectly aged and smells of vanilla and raspberry. Very rare. Imported directly from The Sands.”
Jarrett reached into the bag hanging at his hip and pulled out a handful of gold coins. “I hope this will cover the cost.” He held out his hand to the girl. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. Even Tressa had to hold back her surprise. It was a sizable amount of money. More than Tressa had ever seen in one place.
“Yes,” the girl bowed and back away, “yes, that will do, milord.” She spun and ran off to the kitchen, probably to brag about the tip she was about to receive tonight from the men in the Black Guard.
“Impressive,” Tressa said.
Jarrett shrugged. “It’s a small amount to me. I have plenty more where that came from.”
Henry paid little attention to them. He was far more interested in the fireplace. He’d wandered over and stood warming his hands.
“Who are you?” Tressa asked. Every moment with Jarrett brought more mystery and less understanding.
“Who are you?” Jarrett leaned his chin on his fist, his elbow propped up on the table. “We both have our secrets, but we have a common goal. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“You’re exactly like your father.” She laughed, remembering a similar conversation with Leo.
“I’d love it if you could tell me more about him.” Jarrett leaned in closer.
A crash on the other side of the pub wrenched their attention elsewhere. Tressa glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see a fight. They were common at The Rooster’s Wattle. Nothing worth worrying over.
Except when Henry was involved. The boy's arms were above his head, the man behind him held Henry in a headlock.
Jarrett jumped to his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Let him go."