Time passed quickly at Madam Pomfrey's, there was always something to be done, rooms to be cleaned, clients to be escorted, steps to be scrubbed, shoes to polish. Days quickly turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and before he knew it he'd been there a year. One of the older boys, Mutt, had left, and a new boy joined. Suddenly, he was no longer the 'new boy'. Now he was now just one of the boys, treated the same as all the others and that was something of a relief.
He'd been worried that the altercation at the party with Sylvi might have jeopardised his future as an escort, but Rachel told him that Sylvi said that he'd been provoked and overall had provided an excellent service. As a result, he now worked as an escort maybe once a week, accompanying women to weddings and balls and luncheons, sometimes spending the night and sometimes not. He'd recently started massaging clients, something he'd wanted to do since that night he watched Tully.
He hadn't heard from Eamon in a while. The last he'd heard, his friend was involved in some kind of smuggling gang up the coast near White Horse bay. Apparently they'd been landing barrels of brandy at a small cove in the middle of the night. He'd been told that deep inside a cave there were rough-hewn steps leading up to the cellar of a clifftop inn although as Eamon couldn't swim he didn't want to think too much about his friend fooling around unloading barrels onto slippery rocks in the middle of the night. Still, he was sure his friend would turn up at some point, probably needing help.
It was a bright Tuesday morning when he met Madam coming up the stairs.
"Good morning Lucas, how are you?" she asked as she came to a stop. She was one of the few people in the house to still use his proper name.
"I'm well Madam," he said politely.
"I wonder if you could do me a favour?" she asked, pressing on before he could respond. "My sister and her daughter are coming around to dinner at my house tonight and I need a waiter. I'd ask Tully but he's busy."
"Well I've never really waited before," he replied. He'd hoped to go out to the local inn tonight, but he couldn't really refuse her request.
"Well, it's similar to your work downstairs in the bar, it's really just fetching and carrying, being polite, making sure our wine glasses are filled, shouldn't be a problem for someone of your talents," she said. "And there'll be ten silvers for your trouble."
"Of course, Madam, it would be my pleasure," he replied.
"Thank you Lucas, we'll see you at seven then," she said, favouring him with a rare smile.
Well, at least it would be interesting to see where Madam lived, he thought as he went on his way down to reception.
--
Her house turned out to be a good twenty minute walk away in a very respectable-looking neighbourhood. It was a tall narrow townhouse, the rooms inside split over three floors. Madam let him in, and briefly introduced him to her sister Mira, and her daughter Emma before directing him towards the back.
"Ah Lucky," Cookie said as he entered the small kitchen. "I see you've been roped into this as well, eh?"
Cookie wasn't the tidiest of cooks, and the kitchen was crowded with copper pots, chopping boards, mixing bowls and pie dishes. She seemed to have it all under control though, various pans bubbling away on the large range cooker whilst she skilfully rolled out pastry on the marble worktop.
Lucky polished glasses whilst she rattled about the small kitchen, complaining that she couldn't find anything and that she didn't have the right equipment. Despite all her moaning, the space soon filled with the delicious aroma of steak and ale pie as she rolled pastry on top of the apple pie.
Through the open door, he could see into the sitting room, where Madam was seated in large comfortable looking armchairs sipping wine with her guests. Her sister looked very similar, perhaps in her fifties with a narrow pale face and rather severe look, her dark hair scraped back into a tight bun leaving her shoulders bare above a dark blue dress.
Her daughter looked a little older than him, perhaps twenty two. She wore a silky emerald green dress, cinched at the waist to emphasise her womanly curves and generous bust. Her hair was a rich shade of auburn and centre-parted framing a pretty, rounded face with a pert nose and full lips. She noticed him staring and shot him a frosty look as he entered and made his way to the large dining table.
He couldn't help overhearing the ladies talk as he worked, carefully placing cutlery and napkins on its highly polished surface.
"Oh yes, Emma's very bright, and well behaved, all the teachers at the finishing school say so," her mother was saying. "Her father and I are very proud."
"How impressive," Madam said, sipping her wine.
"Yes, she's passed every exam. DId I tell you she's going to be presented at court in Kings Landing in a few months?"
"I believe you haven't mentioned it once or twice," Madam said, with a polite, thin-lipped smile.
"Oh yes, she's such a good student, and she'll make an excellent wife. Of course, it's so hard to find a good match these days what with one thing and another, but I'm sure we can find a suitable doctor or lawyer, or perhaps even a minor royal," she continued.
Emma sat quietly as her mother mapped out her future, and he got the impression that her views on the matter weren't that important to her mother.
When he returned to the kitchen, Cookie was taking her pie out of the oven and the vegetables off the boil, and he invited the ladies to take their seats at the table.
"Well, this looks very, um, rustic," Mira said as he brought in the first course, which was large helpings of steaming pie with boiled potatoes and carrots. "Of course, we're used to more refined dining in Kings Landing but this looks very good, very, um, regional."
"Cookie's used to cooking for the boys," Madam explained, sounding a little embarrassed.
Lucky made sure their glasses were full, and returned to the kitchen. He said 'goodbye' to Cookie who was on her way out, her job complete now that the food was ready.
In truth, he'd been a little nervous about a job where his every move seemed to be scrutinised by Madam and her rather snobby sister but everything was going well at this point. And it continued to go well up to the point where he brought out dessert. He was filling Emma's wine glass when it happened.
Her dress was also off-the-shoulder, but cut quite low, exposing a distracting amount of her generous cleavage and he couldn't resist a quick glance down,admiring the way her breasts bulged against the emerald green satin as he filled her wine glass. It was then that he felt it, her hand sliding along the back of his thigh. He was facing away from Madam and her sister so they were quite unaware as she slowly slid it higher along the inside of his thigh, casually rounding the curve of his muscular buttock before giving it a firm squeeze. The shock of it in this formal setting caused him to jump and he spilled a little wine.
"I'm so sorry, Miss, ladies," he exclaimed, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the tablecloth as her mother flashed him a stern look.
"That's fine, it's white wine so it won't stain," Madam said.
"How clumsy," Emma exclaimed, her neutral expression betraying nothing as he felt his cheeks flush red.
"Yes, well with the shortage of young men, you must find it difficult to get good staff," he heard her mother whisper loudly to Madam as he returned to the kitchen.
--
Lucas had finished the washing up and was just putting the last plate back in the wooden rack when Madam popped her head around the door.
"Thanks for tonight, could you just do me one more favour before you get back?"
"Certainly," he said, although he'd been looking forward to getting back to the house and putting his feet up.
"Could you take a cup of warm milk up to Emma's room? Apparently, she always has one before bed, it helps her sleep. Oh, and her mother has been quite particular about it being warm rather than hot."
"Of course, warm not hot," Lucas repeated, forcing a polite smile as he bent down to search for a small saucepan.
He ascended the stairs, being careful not to spill the milk. The first floor where Madam and her sister were sleeping was quiet and he was glad he'd taken his shoes off to lessen the noise as started up the second flight of stairs towards the top floor, which were designed to house servants. As he climbed, he passed tasteful paintings; some formal portraits of serious-looking men and women, some more whimsical depicting distant, mythic lands populated with satyrs and nymphs.
"Your milk, Miss," he said, knocking gently on the door.
"Yes, come in, boy," came the reply.
He stepped into a small room the ceiling sloping away on one side, the light from the gas lamps giving it a warm, cosy feel. The space was dominated by the bed, which had an elaborate carved headboard, a large wardrobe and floor-standing mirror off to the left, and a small nightstand on which he could see her earrings and necklace, as well as a candlestick and an inkwell. A large, thick red-and-brown rug covered most of the bare floorboards.
Emma was sitting on the edge of the bed, and he was surprised to see that she'd already changed out of her formal dress into a silk nightgown, the same dark green in colour with elegant floral patterns picked in gold thread. It looked like the kind of expensive garment that was imported from Volantis. She held a hairbrush and it seemed like she'd just stopped using it, the light giving her freshly-brushed hair a coppery glow as it hung in soft, lush waves over her shoulders.
"Your milk, Miss," he repeated, placing it on the nightstand.
She nodded once, and he turned to leave before she spoke.
"It's Lucas, isn't it? And you work at Auntie's place in town?"
