Chapter 38
Francesca looked out of her window onto the Grand Canal. “It will be nice here in spring. Not as nice as on the Ligurian coast, but still pretty.” She spoke calmly, conversationally—as if Erik had not come bursting in here three minutes back, looking for Manfred.
Now he was sitting here, being as polite as if in any Venetian lady’s salon. And feeling utterly ill at ease.
Erik swallowed. Francesca always left him not really sure of his ground. She was so . . . alien to him. Different from his expectations, especially after that first meeting. By the time the second one occurred, he was floundering. Francesca’s new residence could, he supposed, be technically referred to as a “bordello.” But it was like no bordello Erik had ever seen. There was no salon downstairs where half-naked women lounged for the inspection of the customers. In fact—other than, presumably, in the privacy of their own very spacious and luxurious apartments—the women were always extremely well dressed. And not flirtatious in the least, in the blatant manner that Erik expected from “whores.”
Erik glanced around, trying to keep himself from fidgeting. Francesca’s apartment was on the third floor of the Casa Louise. It had a large salon and a balcony and windows—real glass windows—looking out over the hustle and bustle of the Grand Canal. As always when he arrived to round up Manfred, she had greeted him like a lady when he came in the door—and, as always now, she was dressed like one.
Well . . . a lady with a taste in low-cut upthrust bodices. Erik found it nearly as distracting as her nudity had been. While they waited for Manfred to get dressed, Francesca—as always—engaged Erik in genteel conversation. He had found her intelligent, well-read, and with a political background that made him feel naïve. To his back-country Icelandic-Vinlander values, a whore was a whore. A lady was a lady. The concept of a “courtesan” was new to him, and he still wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Or how to protect his charge from her. Or even—a very new and heretical thought, this—whether his charge needed to be protected from her.
“You can’t really stop him, you know.”
How had she known what he’d been thinking about? Well, it was no use beating about the bush. Despite his warnings, either Manfred had said something to her or her very quick mind had picked it up. “I must,” Erik said stiffly. “It is my duty to care for him. To keep him under my eye and train and protect him . . . from entanglements too.”
Francesca laughed musically. “Poor Erik! He must be a great trial to you.”
It was all Erik could do to keep himself from agreeing. Manfred was a tearaway. There was no getting away from it. Half the taverns and a fair number of the women in the Empire could testify to that. “I do what I have to do, madame.”
She gurgled. “The title is premature, Erik. But it is correct. I shall either be a madame or simply retire with considerable wealth after a career as a courtesan. Perhaps marry one of my clients, at the end—some plump, cheerful rich old merchant looking to stay cheerful in his dotage. I have no long-term designs on young Manfred. He is amusing and . . . energetic. He is also young. His fancy will turn elsewhere, and some sweet young thing can be very grateful that I have polished him a little.” She patted Erik on the arm gently. He tried very hard not to be distracted by her soft skin. “He is safer here, with me, than on the street. The owners of this building take great precautions. There are mistresses of men from all factions, and courtesans who could entertain a man who is Montagnard tonight and one who is a Petrine legate tomorrow. This is one of the safest places in all Venice.”
There was some shouting and catcalling down on the canal below.
“Ah.” Francesca smiled. “They must have found him.”
“Who?”
Francesca moved to open the doors onto the balcony. “Someone has been spending a great deal of money looking for a youngster who got himself into trouble with a girl. If my informant is to be believed, with one of the daughters of the Casa Dorma no less! It is a long and complicated romantic story.”