deeper than she usually spoke, emphasising the grand. ‘It is my pleasure to entertain you tonight.’
Legrand was a man in his fifties, who obviously enjoyed the fruits of his labour. His round stomach strained at the buttons of his waistcoat, which was well tailored and made of the finest cloth. His nose had the red hue of someone who enjoyed too much wine and his neck disappeared behind his jowls. Yet he displayed himself to her as if she would find him irresistible. No wonder so many courtesans had their beginnings in the theatre. It took a great deal of acting to convince a man such as this that his company was desired.
He’d paid a great deal for this night with her, although the manager of Maison D’Eros took the lion’s share. Her goal was to save enough for a modest living somewhere, ideally back in England, for which she was always homesick—even more so since spending the day with Oliver. It would take her a long time to amass such a sum. Years, perhaps. She’d been building Madame Coquette’s reputation over the last year and a half and she had little more than what travel expenses to England would cost her.
‘Shall we retire to my room?’ she asked, taking his arm.
‘Yes. Yes,’ he stammered.
She led him up to the second floor to a room that was not exclusively hers. Others, including Vincent, used it on other nights of the week.
She gestured for Legrand to open the door and she swept by him to enter the room, decorated in red-silk drapery on the walls and white and gold damask upholstering the chaise and sofa. The tables were mahogany embellished with gold and Egyptian motifs made popular by Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt. On the tables were crystal decanters of wine and brandy, bottles of champagne, and plates of grapes and cheeses. Prominent in the room was a large bed, its covers and canopy in a white fabric similar to the upholstered chaise and chair, trimmed in gold fringe.
Cecilia’s silk red gown was perfect for the room. She looked as if she were part of the room’s decoration.
Legrand closed the door and lunged for her, throwing himself at her and slamming his lips against hers.
She pushed him away. ‘Monsieur Legrand!’ She spoke with great indignation. ‘How dare you attack me like—like you are a hound in heat. I will not stand for such disrespect!’
‘Forgive me, madame.’ He grovelled. ‘I could not help myself. The mere sight of you lights a fire in me that can never be extinguished!’
She straightened her clothes. ‘Well, I suggest you compose yourself immediately. Remember the bargain, monsieur. You have paid for my time, but that is all. You must win me over if you want any more of me.’
This was the brilliant ruse Vincent had thought up for her. Her customers were required to make her want to bed them. And if she wanted it, she promised them rapturous satisfaction.
Of course, she never wanted any of them.
‘What might I do to please you?’ Legrand asked.
She lowered herself onto one of the sofas. ‘First you may pour me some champagne and amuse me with your repartee.’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Legrand nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to reach the champagne bottle and open it.
The champagne always made being Madame Coquette a bit easier.
Legrand babbled of once meeting and advising Talleyrand, the French politician who’d managed to operate at the highest levels of government through Louis XVI, the Revolution, Napoleon and now the Restoration.
As if Talleyrand would accept advice from such a ridiculous man.
‘Talleyrand.’ She made a sound of derision. ‘He is the one no one trusts completely, is that not so? He is a traitor to France. Am I to admire you for associating with a traitor?’
If Legrand had vilified Tallyrand, she would have praised Tallyrand as a great statesman of France.
Because, no matter what Legrand said or did, she was not going to be pleased by him. He would never win her over. That was the point.
Legrand continued to try, attempting to impress her with his wealth and his success as a merchant. Cecilia could almost feel sorry for him, except he was willing to pay for a woman’s favours, merely to impress his compatriots.
Conversation inevitably came to an end and Legrand began spouting flattery. ‘Madame, your beautiful skin makes me long to touch you. You are the most ravishing of Paris courtesans. I would have paid double for this night with you. Triple. And considered it worth every franc.’
Cecilia wished her price had been negotiated higher. This was something to discuss with the manager, who might be underselling her services.
‘You flatter me, monsieur,’ she said, dipping her head and fluttering her lashes the way Vincent had shown her.
His expression turned eager. ‘Please, I beg you, madame. Sit with me.’
‘With pleasure.’ Cecilia girded herself and moved to the chaise.
Legrand put his arm around her. ‘This is much better. Much better.’
She pretended to sigh. ‘Would you pour me more champagne?’
‘More champagne?’ He sounded both surprised and disappointed. ‘As you wish.’
‘For you as well.’ She smiled sweetly.
He opened the second bottle of champagne and poured two glasses, handing one to her.
She tapped her glass against his. ‘To this lovely night.’
He puffed up with hope. ‘This lovely night.’
He drank the contents in one gulp and put his arm around her again. As Cecilia slowly sipped hers, he stroked her arm, then became bolder and put his hand on her thigh.
‘May I kiss you?’ he asked while he performed the greater indignity of kneading her thigh.
She took her time to drink the last of her champagne, then smiled. ‘Of course you can!’
He placed his dry, thin, fleshless lips against hers and held her in both arms.
She made herself remain still for a moment, before starting to cough. And cough. And cough.
He released her. ‘What can I do? More champagne?’
She nodded, still coughing.
His hand shook while he poured another glass of champagne. She grabbed it from his hand and drank as if desperate for it.
When she’d composed herself again, she apologised. ‘Forgive me, monsieur. I—I tried...’ She let her voice trail off.
She positioned herself for another kiss and Legrand eagerly complied. This time he opened his mouth.
She made a sound and again pushed him away. ‘Did you clean your teeth, monsieur?’
‘My—my teeth?’ He looked befuddled.
‘I am sorry, but
