Page 89 of A Story of Love

“I’d like to take a walk—get some exercise,” she added desperately as he moved to shut the door.

“I’ll—”

“Ask Mr. Gregg,” Lori finished for him.

Barker gave her a crooked, oddly charming smile. “Aye, miss. Now eat yer food.” And then he shut the door.

Lori heaved a sigh and turned to her meal. Not even the sight of three fresh newspapers lying on her tray could cheer her.

She could dress her own hair—she’d never had a maid in her life—but she desperately wanted to talk to somebody who lived at the brothel. Even if she couldn’t convince anyone to help her escape, at least she could learn a little about the place. She hadn’t lied about being bored. The last few days had been the first in years when she’d not had to work. Reading and lounging were lovely pastimes, but she needed something to occupy her mind—especially when all she had to think about at the moment was how she was probably out of a job and had lost any chance of ever getting her book published.

Sighing heavily, she sat down and ate her meal before it went cold.

She had just poured a second cup of coffee when there was the sound of the key turning in the lock.

When the door opened, a woman a few years older than Lori entered, Barker standing in the open doorway behind her holding a large cannister of steaming water. “This be Dinah and she’ll ‘elp ye.” He jerked a nod at the woman, who was holding a slim lap desk. “There’s yer writin’ things.” He set down the water and then closed and locked the door before she could thank him.

“Hello,” Lori said, taking stock of the woman who was certainly taking stock of her. “I didn’t really need help dressing my hair, I’m just bored and lonely.”

Dinah gave a startled laugh. “Mr. Barker said as much, miss. That’s just as well, as I’m not really a maid. I was just one of the few people awake at this hour.”

“Call me Lori.” She gestured to the other chair at the table. “I’m sorry, but I only have one cup, or I’d offer you some coffee.”

Dinah set the writing desk down but didn’t sit. “I’ve already had plenty of coffee,” she said, regarding Lori with open curiosity. “The lads say you’re a newspaper lady?”

“I am. But I’m afraid being prisoner here is cutting into my job. What lads do you mean?”

Dinah got a wary look. “The ones who came with his lordship.”

“So…you, er, work here?” Lori asked, when it was clear the other woman wasn’t keen to disclose more information about Severn’s men.

“I’m a whore, if that’s what you’re askin’,” Dinah said, her expression mulish.

“I’m very curious about what it is like to work here,” she admitted. Have you ever lain with Lord Severn?

Dinah snorted. “You a maiden, then?”

Lori was momentarily taken aback by the direct question, but it only seemed fair that she needed to share something about herself if she expected the other woman to confide in her. “No.”

Dinah’s eyes widened in surprise, but she looked less evasive. “What part about workin’ here did you want to know about?”

“I guess… all of it. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

“What sort o’ questions?”

“You don’t have to answer anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“And this will be in a newspaper?”

“If I chose to write a story about it, your answers might be mentioned.”

Dinah’s eyes shuttered and she firmly shook her head. “No. I could never ‘ave my name in the newspaper. Mrs. Marlowe would be most displeased.”

“Mrs. Marlowe? Who is she?”

Dinah opened her mouth and then closed it. “Er, I shouldn’t say.”

“I could write a story and change your name.”