Free By Arrangement by Madeline Hunter

husband. They were not pledged as surety for any loans.”
    “I know that they are yours. In return for them, however, I will in fact forgive the loans, not just extend them.” He smiled. “See how well you negotiate? Already I have conceded much more than I had planned.”
    He saw her weighing certain ruin against the property. If he called the loans, she would have to sell it anyway.
    “Why do you want that house? Why not another? Are you going to burn it or something?”
    “Nay. We merchants are very practical people. We rarely destroy property. It is a very beautiful house and I have admired it. I will have need of a country home near London soon. I hold no grudge against a building.”
    “And the hour of my time?”
    “That is for the other debt. You will go to a place that I tell you. There a man will flog you just as you watched others flogged for your pleasure. Ten lashes.”
    Her eyes flew open in shock. He noted her reaction with relief. Those who took pleasure in pain often went both ways, and he did not want her to get perverse enjoyment out of this.
    “I didn't realize that we had so much in common,” she finally said.
    “We have nothing in common. I will not be there, although some of the others might be. They will be told of this and may want to see it. I would demand your husband do it, as he should have long ago, but he knows what he has in you, and if he started he might not stop. It is justice we seek, not revenge or your husband's satisfaction.”
    She abruptly rose from the tub. She stepped out and began to dry herself. Her hurried, angry movements gradually slowed, however, and the expression on her face changed. He saw her considering, calculating, planning the final negotiation that, if executed well enough, might change everything.
    He realized with surprise that he had totally lost interest in taking her humiliation any further.
    He removed a small purse from the front of his pourpoint. It contained exactly the difference between the value of the loans and the Hampstead property. He dropped the purse on top of her garments. “It is the money that you seek but not a loan. That would be bad business. However, I always pay for my whores whether I use them or not.”
    He walked to the door. “A week hence, madam. The time and place will be sent to you. Afterward husband can contact me about settling the loans and property.”
    Her voice, harsh and ugly, ripped across the chamber. “There will be a new debt to settle after this, you bastard son of a whore!”
    He paused. Justice, not revenge, he reminded himself.
    Still …
    “Fifteen lashes, I think now, my lady. The last five for the insult to my mother.”
    He strode out through the solar and hall and left the house.
    The sky had clouded over and a light snow was falling by the time David reined in his horse outside the tavern. To his right, along the Southwark docks, small craft of all types bobbed. Stretched out in front of them rose the small houses where the prostitutes of the Stews plied their trade. Even at night these docks would be full, for the city discouraged crossing the river after dark and it was traditional for these women to have their customers stay until dawn.
    The rude tavern was dark and musty with river damp. David let his eyes adjust, and then walked to a corner table.
    “You are late,” the man sitting there said.
    David slid onto the bench. “Oliver, you are the most punctual whoremonger I have ever met.”
    Oliver passed him a cup of ale, drank some of his own, and wiped his black mustache and beard on his sleeve. “I am a busy man, David. Time is money.”
    “Your woman's time is money, Oliver, not yours. How is Anne?”
    Oliver shrugged. “She doesn't like the winter. The nights are too long in her opinion.”
    She would probably move to Cock Lane soon. It was right outside the city wall and the women there worked differently than here in Southwark. But then, they also had to deal with the city laws.