"Oh, Taretha. I know her. She's certainly pretty. I like her too." Hearthglen nodded appreciatively, looking as though he had found a kindred spirit.
"Ah, if only she were here with me now, I'd be satisfied." Rhode looked positively hungry. "We're marching out tomorrow. Who knows when I'll get to see her again..."
Hearthglen laughed. "I never imagined you were such a romantic, Sir Rhode. Why don't we go to Blackmoore's castle and find her now?"
"Well... would that really be appropriate?" Rhode put on a hesitant expression.
"Of course it would! Why wouldn't it?" Hearthglen laughed again. "I often visit late at night. Lord Blackmoore always welcomes me with beautiful women and fine wine."
Show me the ropes, old hand.
Rhode nearly blurted it out.
Still, Hearthglen could go without any trouble, but if Rhode went along, Blackmoore would certainly grow suspicious.
He was about to march off to war, yet he was visiting Blackmoore to look for women?
And asking for Taretha by name, at that?
That would definitely set Blackmoore thinking.
No, I need to make good use of Hearthglen instead.
"Well... to tell you the truth, I'm rather thin-skinned about this sort of thing. I'd feel too embarrassed to just show up like that." Rhode looked bashful.
"Oh, hahaha... no wonder I rarely see you in pleasure houses, Sir Rhode." Hearthglen chuckled. "How about this, then? I'll go to the lord's castle and quietly bring her over. What do you think?"
"Then... thank you very much." Rhode produced a lecherous grin at just the right moment.
"Hahaha..."
After that, everything fell naturally into place.
Apparently, Hearthglen often turned up at Blackmoore's in the dead of night asking for women. Blackmoore handed Taretha over without the slightest suspicion.
To Blackmoore, Taretha was nothing more than a tool.