“As happened with you when Rome invaded Egypt, and you were no longer allowed to run a business,” he pointed out. “As if with the invasion, you had become less intelligent, or skilled, and were suddenly a child who needed a man to look out for her.”
“I suppose,” Drina admitted. “Though, as I say, I didn’t see the correlation then. And I didn’t suddenly feel less with the invasion, but they all seemed to feel they were all now less or damaged.” She sighed. “Anyway, when Beth gave me her little talk, all I could do was reassure her that I wanted nothing and wouldn’t suddenly abandon them. But, of course, her experiences in life didn’t suggest that was likely. It didn’t for any of them, and they were afraid and frustrated because of it. In their minds, there was nothing to stop me from simply pulling up stakes and leaving at any time. They didn’t trust that I wouldn’t, and the possibility left them constantly terrified. Once I realized that, I agreed to their offer.”
“To feed from them?”
Drina nodded. “It turned out to be a good thing all the way around.”
“How so?” he asked curiously.
“The women had always been on edge, fluctuating between being overly nice and snapping at me and each other,” she began, and then paused and wrinkled her nose. “Frankly, it was a bloody cathouse at times. But once I agreed to feed from them, some sort of balance was restored. They felt everyone was getting something, so it would all be all right. They relaxed, the house gained a much more pleasant atmosphere, the women even became like family rather than fighting all the time. It was nice,” she said with a reminiscent smile. “And, of course, I didn’t have to hunt at night anymore, which was handy. Everyone was happy.”
“Everyone?” Harper queried, and she chuckled at his wry expression.
“Well, everyone but my family,” she admitted on a laugh.
Harper nodded, not surprised. “I didn’t think your brother would be pleased to have his sister running a brothel.” He grinned and tilted his head, asking, “Did he call on Lucian for help with you again?”
“Of course,” she said dryly. “When his many letters and a personal visit to try to force me to sell the brothel and come home failed, Lucian was his next ploy. And Lucian even caught a ship and came all the way from the Americas, where he was living. He sailed into England to look into the matter.”
“And?” Harper queried, leaning forward with interest.
“He read me, read my girls, and then turned to Stephano and surprised us all by announcing that I was old enough to make my own decisions. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was proud of what I was doing for these women, and Stephano should be too, but whether he was or not, it was time he stopped interfering and let me be.” Drina lowered her head to hide the tears that had swum into her eyes at the memory.
Bloody things, Drina thought. She didn’t know why the memory of Lucian’s approval made her teary. It was ridiculous really. She stilled when Harper covered her hand on the table and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“He was right.”
Drina smiled faintly, and then sighed with disappointment when he withdrew his hand and picked up the wine bottle to pour more of the pale liquid into both their glasses. Setting the now-empty bottle down, he then glanced around, relaxing when their waiter immediately appeared at the table.
“So how long were you a madam?” Harper asked once the waiter had nodded to his request for more wine and slipped away.
She picked up her glass and took a sip before answering. “Quite a while, actually. The women all knew what I was, so my not aging didn’t matter. I was never seen entering or leaving the brothel without a veil, and I didn’t stay there all the time. I had a big brawny fellow act as bodyguard for the women on occasion so I could travel, and when I traveled, no one knew I was a madam.” She shrugged. “Of course, as time passed, some of the girls left, either to marry, or to work a respectable job. One or two saved every penny they made and set out to start their own business, but Beth, Mary, and several others worked until they got too old. Then I shut the doors and bought another, smaller, house, which I turned into a retirement home for the half dozen who remained.
“They were so excited,” she recalled with a soft smile. “It was far enough away that they could tell their new neighbors that they were retired widows or whatever they chose. They could be respectable, make new friends among the respectable matrons around them, and enjoy their waning years among the family they’d made in each other.”