Chapter 2

"Oh, I will fetch the chosen one, will I?" Susan folded her arms across her ample bosom, the instant the door closed.

Fury managed two steps and sank down at her dressing table. "Just cover the bruises, will you? I can't have them on show. It might affect the conception--or at least it might affect their ability to perform. They see that and God knows what they'll think. I know I would." She tossed the book into the open drawer. "So?"

"Madam "

"If I have to take a stick to your back, I will."

"A stick? That's fine talk, when I think of all I've done for you."

"I know you mean well," Fury wheedled, dabbing a little perfume on her wrists. "But I believe it's important for a woman to look her best, regardless of the situation. So don't argue. I honestly can't take arguing tonight. I don't know if I can take anything more."

"Look your best? For a bunch of drunken old faggots. Sadistic old faggots. Do you know what I heard about Vellagio today?"

Fury picked up her powder puff. When it came to looking her best, she might as well make a start, if Susan wasn't going to help. "Whatever it was, you shouldn't have been listening."

"It was at the market. How could I help it?"

"By covering your ears. Anyway, I thought you didn't speak Italian?"

"He uses boys. Young boys. Whether they want to or not. He whips them too."

For a moment Fury stared at the marbled surface of the table. If she could draw strength from its veins to hers, that would be nice. If she could draw strength from anything, in fact. But she was past that now. All she could do was choose one of these old faggots.

"Really? Well, I heard it was young girls. But whichever it is, while I know you mean well, you're not in my situation. In fact, it's hard to think of anyone who is. But if anyone was, I'm sure they'd do what I'm doing."

"You think."

"We both know it's this or nothing. I can't I won't be cast off without a penny. Not again. It was bad enough the first time. And anyway, it's no more than Lady Margaret deserves." Wincing, she swept the dark fall of hair back from her neck. "Now, please, a little powder "

"A little powder?" Susan folder her arms tighter. "It will take more than a little powder to cover that mess this time."

"Just think like Lady Macbeth, will you? And stop arguing. You've done it before. Argued and done that too." Fury raised her head as a gust of wind blew in through the open shutters. "Anyway, the men aren't all old. Or faggots."

"Fine. Have it your own way." Fury almost ceased breathing as Susan secured the shutters, then bustled back across the floor. "You know you always do. Though I'm not thinking of Lady Margaret. Or of what that old bag deserves, either. I'm thinking of you if you must know."

"Then don't. You know I don't require it."

"I'm thinking you should just tell that old toad where to stuff her money. You could find a protector here in Genoa. A woman like you would have no trouble."

"A woman like me?" Fury met her green-eyed reflection in the not-yet-paid-for glass. "And what would that be, exactly?" Long ago she'd stopped wondering, buffeted by fortune's changing winds. Forced to snatch what she could to survive. Always knowing one false foot-fall would bring her down. "Anyway, why would I want a protector? Thomas was that, at the start. Now look at me, without a penny to my name again. No. I've had my fill of protectors. I want to guarantee my future. The future of Well " Her eyes dulled in the glass. "You know as well as I do the things that are dear."

"But madam, if you didn't have the money to pay certain bills,my sister wouldn't "

"That's what you say, when we all know money is the most important thing on the planet." She dabbed a little rouge on her cheeks. "You know the dire nature of my predicament, what I must guarantee and why. That damned old bag hated me from the first. Don't tell me she doesn't lie awake at nights just thinking of new ways to torture and humiliate me. But poisoning Thomas's father against me? Cajoling him on his death bed into insisting Thomas must provide an heir before succeeding to the dukedom? What kind of new low was that? One I would never stoop to. In fact, now I think about it, I don't know anyone else who would. Well, it's one blessing at least that Lady Margaret lives in England and I'm here. Even if, in other ways, that's a torture to me."

Susan sprinkled a dusting of powder onto the dressing table as if she were measuring the ingredients for a cake, and then wiped her hands down her apron. "Indeed I do, madam, I just think, in fact I know "

Despite herself, Fury touched what glittered around her neck. The single midnight-blue pendant Thomas had given her two Christmases ago. The copy of it, rather. Because that, like this, was also burning necessity. Her Hatton Garden jewel-maker had served her well, though. Thomas had never once suspected a thing of her need for that kind of money, and how it ran to far more than blackmail.

"Before you say another word on the subject, Susan--as I know you're going to and you should know I don't want to hear--even this jewel here wouldn't pay for what I need to guarantee for Storm. It's like me. Fake."

"Undervalued is what I'd say. What about blackmail, then? That book "

"Blackmail is messy, which is why I'm locking the book away again. And I won't hear another word about it either. What kind of person do you think I am? Blackmail indeed."