"You want me to go to a courtesan's place?" His tone was low, laced with such unmistakable offense that it might as well have been written in bold.
Lorraine blinked, as if that alone might erase the growing storm of indignation on his face. Clearly, she had committed a cardinal sin by suggesting such a thing. Her husband, ever the stoic paragon of propriety, wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near a courtesan's establishment, except, of course, when he marched beside her like some oversized royal bodyguard.
Did he forget that I am the madame of the courtesans? Ugh. What can I do with him?
"Your Highness knows Celeste is the highest paid courtesan here, don't you?" Lorraine asked, as though his offense was somehow his own fault. After all, following Seraphina's departure, Celeste had pretty much taken her place in everyone's gossip. Everyone knew Celeste. Everybody. Yet Lorraine decided to pin the blame squarely on her husband, partly to see if it might soothe his bruised ego.
