Freya made a sound in the back of her throat, partly a hum, partly a scoff, and pulled her father's watch from the small pocket in her skirt. A habitual glance at the scratched glass face indicated it was seven in the morning, meaning it was six. For all the pride her da had in the old piece, it was perpetually ahead of schedule.
She laid it gently inside the china bowl she kept on the table just beside the blade.
Except for those two small reminders of home, Freya's room was as functional as the office housing her other life, the one filled with ledgers and figures and names.
The room consisted of a curtained bed, a wardrobe, the table by the door, another table to hold the ewer of fresh water for bathing, and a massive mirror tall enough for her to see herself from foot to brow. It had been a very necessary, very costly expense for the new madam in town when she'd started her operation two years prior. An appealing madam was a popular procuress.
Freya pulled at the pinching shoes she wore and immediately settled a couple inches lower once her feet were free of the restraints. The balls of her feet ached like she'd worn through the thin skin and worked her way into the hard bone beneath.
“Shouldna ye be downstairs?” Freya asked again while she untied her stockings and slipped the fine silk off her legs.
Alli rolled her eyes with the same exaggeration she'd demonstrated while playing Captain Fraser earlier.
Captain Nay, indeed. The thought brought a smirk to Freya's lips.
“Ye know it's no' ever busy now.” Alli folded her arms over her simple chemise. Aside from the russet-colored velvet cinching her narrow waist, she didn't wear the same lavish clothing as did the other girls. But then she wasn't on sale like they were.
“I was planning to finish reading the book ye lent me,” Alli said. “But then I found something even more enticing than knowing if Juliet would take the poison - ye meeting privately with Captain Nay.”
Freya chuckled and turned her back to Alli. “Verra well. If ye're here, ye might as well be of assistance.”
The click of the door told Freya the other girl had closed it. A soft tug jostled Freya's lower back and immediately the pressure around her hips lessened. “Tessa saw ye walking to yer office with him,” Alli said. “According to her, the good captain couldna keep his eyes off yer backside the whole way there.”
“Couldn't he?” Freya murmured. He’d certainly kept his eyes lifted to her face in so saintly a manner, it lured her to want to tempt him.
So he was not immune after all. She indulged in an arrogant smile.
“Aye, and when ye attacked that bugger we all hate, he couldna keep his eyes from ye then either,” Alli spoke as she plucked the laces of Freya's corset free, one liberating inch at a time. Were Alli not such a good backup when Freya needed her at Molly's, she'd employ the girl as the lady's maid she'd always intended to be.
But then whores and madams made significantly more than lady's maids, and Alli was happy with her position.
Despite her nimble hands, the unlacing of the corset dragged on for several painful breaths and cramped heartbeats, as if the idea of freedom from the merciless grip left Freya even more starved for air.
Corsets - implements to lift the bosom and tighten the waist to give the rump a rounder, higher appearance. A womanly discomfort men were unaware of in their pursuit to admire pretty things made all the prettier solely for them.
“When ye put yer blade to the bugger's gullet, Captain Nay reached for his own weapon,” Alli went on in a giddy rush. “I mean, I know the men dinna have their weapons inside, but he reached for the place on his belt where his pistol loop hung. Like he meant to protect ye.”
The corset sagged open and Freya pulled in a deep breath, letting her chest expand to its full capacity. Free, and open with a kiss of sweet cool air flowing between the nearly transparent shift and her skin. Alli patiently pulled the corset away from Freya's body. It peeled away like the excavation of a full ribcage from a skeleton.
“Well,” Alli huffed. “I found it to be verra romantic even if ye're no' impressed with it.” She worked out the laces from Freya's skirt next.
Freya pushed the fabric off her hips and pulled away the shift to flutter to the ground where it joined the rest of her garments. Her body remained lined with the print of her constraints, a line above the knee where her stockings tied, the crinkle of reddened skin at her waist from the squeeze of her corset, the painful pink of her toes greedily splayed out on the cool wooden floorboards. She wanted to sigh with her liberation.
“I can take care of myself.” Freya left the clothing for Alli to tend to and strode naked to the washbasin. “I havena needed a man to save me all this time.” Freya lifted a square of linen from the water and wrung out the excess. “I dinna need a man now.” The chilled cloth slid against her skin, invigorating her tired, hot flesh. She closed her eyes and settled it over her face. Her aching temples pulsed beneath the tent of cool, wet linen.
“So what did he want?” Alli asked from across the room.
Freya pulled the cloth from her face and reached for a large, luxuriously soft sheet of linen from a small pile beside the ewer. “He wanted me to check on his mother next time I go to the country.” She scrubbed at her weary body until her skin was pink and the markings from her clothing had begun to fade.
Alli gave a delighted little squeal. “If that isna the kindest thing I've ever heard!”
“I said nay.” Freya pulled open her wardrobe. The delicate scent of violets greeted her, fresh and welcome and tinged with memories of home. She tried not to glance to the far right, past the colorful assortment of scanty silks and velvets and lacy beautiful things, but she could not stop her gaze from drifting.
There, hanging like the skins of a shed life, were the dresses she’d worn when she first arrived in Edinburgh with their prudent silhouettes, high necklines, and fittings not so damnably tight. The gowns of a lady. The gowns she wore when she visited her home.
She grabbed a clean shift and pulled it over her head. It whispered down her skin in a contented sigh.
“How could ye say nay?” Alli asked, her voice pitched with disbelief.
“Because I have a family to protect too, in case ye've forgotten.” Freya closed the door against the two sides of her life.
Alli's reproaching appearance sobered. “I know. It's just sad.” She peeled back the corner of Freya's made bed.
“That soft heart of yers will get ye in trouble one of these days, Alli.” Freya slipped between the cold sheets and jutted her icy toes toward the heat of the warming pan at the base of her mattress.
“Then even my soft heart is aware of something ye hadna considered.” Alli pulled the blankets over Freya's shoulders and looked down at her, expression as stern as that of a mother. “What have ye done to keep yer family safe?” Alli asked. “What would ye do to ensure they stayed safe?”
The chill of the sheets was no longer pleasant. It seeped into Freya's skin, through her blood down into her bones.
“I would do anything,” Freya whispered.