To Deceive A Duke

Chapter 6

"As you are miss." He says, grabbing a cloth and starting to dry. "How about a honey and ginger tea?" 

Clarissa's ears perk up at that and she looks up from the numbers, "That sounds delightful." She admits, "If it's not too much trouble?"

"No trouble miss." He assures her, "It'll be right out." He disappears into the kitchen. 

While her job may involve a great deal of sin and indulgence, Clarissa has kept herself away from a life of drink, drugs and sex, it is not that she doesn't wonder, but when you are in control of these wickedness's it doesn't have the same attraction. 

The pub door flies open once again and this time  Flo waltzes into the pub. She is wearing a simple cotton dress rather than her usual provocative and sensual silk gowns. She hops onto the stool next to Clarissa.

"What you frowning at?"

Clarissa begins to sweep up the papers and receipts that are scattered all across the bar. "Bertie was explaining the accounts to me, and now my head throbs."

"Why do you need to know how the accounts work?" Flo asks, picking up a receipt for gun powder and scrutinising it. "You pay him to do it." 

"Because..." Clarissa snatches the receipt back, "The more I know, the fewer issues we will have."

"Is this still about proving yourself to Peter and the others?" Flo questions. Clarissa slows as she stacks the papers.

"No...it's just handy." She lies.

"Clary, in the last few months you've proved yourself over and over again. The people have faith in you. They love you and trust you." Flo reassures. 

"You can't run The Strand on love and trust," Clarissa says shortly and her friend laughs. 

"You sound like one of those government men, a real politician."

"I am trying to do right by everyone, I need respect, I need power." Clarissa says, "I need to be in control."

"You are in control," Flo responds but Clarissa just sighs. 

"I agree miss." Chuck returns from the kitchen, a cup of steaming tea in his hand, he slides it across the bar to her. "You have control, you are our leader." He offers her a rare smile. 

Before she can thank him the door to the pub opens and Peter and Iwan stroll in.  Peter has a face like thunder as he slams a paper down on the bar. Clarissa doesn't even wince as The Times lands in front of her instead she calmly levels with him. 

"Page 3." He grunts, folding his arms. She puts her accounts to the side and opens the paper to the right page. She reads the header. Her heart skips a beat and the colour drains from her face. 

"That's the second one this week, making it 10 in the last 6 weeks." Peter says, "The whores are getting scared."

"We don't like that word." Flo says with a pointed look and pursed lips, "It's degrading." 

Peter rolls his eyes. "Fine, the prostitutes are getting scared." He corrects.

"Thank you," Flo replies, satisfied. Clarissa looks at her friend, she bites her bottom lip. 

"Are the girls scared?" She asks, picking up her cup and sipping slowly. Flo looks down at the floor, she grips the corners of her chair. 

"A little." She admits, "Every day is a risk, we got to work but it's scary."

Clarissa nods, she scans the article, her finger travels down the paragraph until it stops at the bottom. "It says here that was a Whitechapel worker."