sure whether it was embarrassment or something else, but she wasn’t ready to share.
“I’m more interested in how Maudie is.” She’d just managed to drift off to sleep when Maudie had showed up, covered in blood, with bruises on her throat, wrists and ankles, another victim of the Heavenly Host’s brutal games. She hadn’t spoken much since they’d managed to clean her up and bandage her, but her blackened eyes were filled with suffering, a suffering that should only have increased Melisande’s disgust for all mankind. Unfortunately it only increased her disgust with the base aristocrats responsible and the worthless examples of human-kind who found pleasure in hurting the helpless.
And Benedick, Viscount Rohan, was her ally in stopping them. She had no choice—she couldn’t do it on her own. At least she was secure in the knowledge that without good reason he would have no interest in touching her. And when she survived without sleep she became, as Emma had frankly informed her, a captious shrew. She would give Viscount Rohan such a disgust of her that he wouldn’t want to venture any closer than strictly necessary.
“Maudie’s sleeping,” Emma said. “She’s lost a bit of blood, but she doesn’t seem to have suffered any permanent injury.”
“With any luck this might work out for the best.” Melisande roused herself. “She’s come and gone from here three times already, each time drifting back into the life of a whore. This time she may have finally had enough.”
“Perhaps,” Emma said doubtfully. “But there are some who never learn. And God knows, it’s easier work than hauling coal to an upstairs bedroom and working in a dressmaker’s shop. You’re off your feet and it’s all over and done with quick enough.”
Melisande frowned. “That reminds me. Lord Rohan said that…that physical encounters can take an hour or longer. I presume he was lying, but…”
“What were you doing discussing lovemaking with Viscount Rohan?”
Melisande picked up the newspaper, endeavoring to look matter-of-fact. “It was an intellectual discussion.”
“Hmmph,” said Emma, clearly not convinced. “If you want to have intellectual discussions about lovemaking then you should come to us. If you put all our years of experience together our wealth of knowledge rivals that contained in the British Museum.”
“Does the British Museum contain knowledge of lovemaking?” she asked. “I’ll have to go in search of it instead of wasting my time learning from the gaggle.”
“Don’t try to distract me. You know I worry about you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said in a meek voice. “Then is it true? Does it take longer than five or ten minutes?”
Emma surveyed her judiciously. “It all depends. With experienced lovers it can last the entire night. When money changes hands it’s usually over quickly. The provider of the service wishes to end it quickly, and, being a professional skilled in her craft, she can do any number of things to speed the process along. The purchaser usually wants it over quickly as well, since he’s more than likely ashamed of needing to pay money for it in the first place or concerned that he might be discovered by a wife or friend.
“Among lovers it’s a different matter. In that case the longer it takes the more exquisite the pleasure. There are any number of tricks for prolonging things, bringing someone to the very edge of climax and then falling back, only to approach it again.”
“Climax?”
Emma’s smile was rueful. “Clearly we haven’t been nearly instructive enough. I’m talking about that moment of exquisite bliss that occasionally blesses women. For men it’s simple enough—a matter of biology, and almost any aperture will do for them. For a woman it requires care and skill from the man, and usually deep feeling from the woman, or so I’ve been told.”
Melisande stared at her, momentarily confused. “So you’ve been told?” she repeated. “But you were the most notorious madam in the city, as well as the youngest. How could you not know…?”
“Prolonging a man’s pleasure is a fairly simple matter. Prolonging a female’s release is, for my part, merely theoretical. There are very few men who specialize in providing pleasure for females, and I have never been troubled by tender feelings about anyone. Most of the men who worked for me were there for other men to enjoy. Yes, I know, you don’t want to hear about it, and you don’t need to, though I assure you most of those young men are in as great a need as the women who live here. But as it is, even professionally