The Courtesan's Courtship

“Since I arrived in London. For a few months we…worked at the same establishment. She was my dearest friend.” She turned and regarded Dianthe through dark eyes. “I heard people talking about how closely you resemble her. Your hair and eyes are nearly the same, and the shape of your face and figure, but you haven’t her sophistication.”

“Where did you hear all this, Miss Denton? The murder was only three days ago.”

She nodded. “The police have been by to search Nell’s rooms and belongings. The gentlemen talk. Nell’s favorites have come to pay their respects and to comfort one another.”

For some inexplicable reason, Dianthe was pleased by the thought that Nell’s lovers mourned her. “Were there many?”

Miss Denton gave a short laugh. “Yes. Too many. For one of us, very few.”

“One of you?” Dianthe asked.

“The demimonde, Miss Lovejoy. The half-world of London, or the shadow world, as your kind would call it. The part proper ladies like you do not even speak of.”

Dianthe walked along for moment, not knowing how to reply to such a statement.

“Have I shocked you, Miss Lovejoy?”

“No, Miss Denton. My family was impoverished and I have occasionally thought that, but for the grace of family who cared for us, my sister and I might have fallen into a similar fate.” She recalled Squire Daniels in Little Upton, who had offered to buy her a small cottage in exchange for her “company.” She would have had to be a great deal more desperate to accept that offer.

“We are courtesans, Miss Lovejoy, not prostitutes. Many of us have several lovers, some have only one at a time. But we say who, and when, and where, unlike our poorer sisters. Nor do we sell our wares on the street.”

Dianthe nodded, understanding that explanation. “Did Miss Brookes have many, few, or one?”

“A few.”

“How many?”

“It varied from time to time.”

“Had she recently argued with any of them?”

“I see where you are going with this, and I would like to help you. But I am afraid I cannot.”

“But why?”

“Miss Lovejoy,” she said as she increased the length of her stride, “I do not even wish to be seen in your company. Indiscretion and women who talk out of turn are frowned upon in my business. Should it be known that I have shared any sort of information with a woman of the ton, I would find it very difficult to earn a living. My gentlemen would withdraw their patronage, and I would find myself on the streets in short order.”

Dianthe caught up to her and entreated, “Just tell me the names of her protectors. I shall question them myself.”

“Miss Lovejoy, are you not sensible to the difficulty of what you have taken on? Do you really think men of the ton will discuss their affairs with you? The very thought is absurdly naive. And Nell’s other friends will not be as forthcoming as I have been.”

Her spirits plummeted. “Then how will I ever discover what happened to Miss Brookes?”

Flora Denton stopped and turned to face her. She laughed and shook her head. “That will never happen, Miss Lovejoy. Give it up. You would have to be one of us.”

Mouth agape, Dianthe watched the woman lose herself in the crowded market at Covent Garden. One of them?

Mr. Renquist was waiting on the street outside St. Martins Church by the time she made her way back. He looked anxious and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw her. “I wondered where you had got to, Miss Lovejoy. I do not know how to find you. Where are you staying?”

An impression of Lord Geoffrey’s flashing smile passed through her head and she shuddered at what Mr. Renquist would say about her choice of lodgings. “It would be best if you do not know that, Mr. Renquist. Then it will not be a conflict for you.”

“It is already a conflict,” he grumbled. “I should be hauling you before a magistrate this very minute.”

She winced, knowing Mr. Renquist was compromising his job every moment he spent with her.

“I recognized three or four of the men, Miss Lovejoy. The others should not be hard to find.”

“Is it usual for such funerals to be so…small?”

“No one wants to be associated with a murder—at least until after it has been solved. Most of the men who attend upon the demimonde could not withstand the scrutiny.”

Dianthe’s frustration mounted. “Then how shall we ever solve this?”

“The truth has a way of coming out, miss. In its own sweet time.”

“I do not have time, Mr. Renquist. I could hang before the truth is known.”

Renquist gave her a sober nod. “Yes, I can see the problem, miss. And that is the very thing I am trying to prevent.”

She sighed as Flora Denton’s words rang in her head. You would have to be one of us.

Geoff paced the small rented room above the tavern in Whitefriars while Sir Harry scratched a few lines on a piece of paper. “Anyone else?”

“Edgerton’s cub,” Geoff told him. “I heard he was pursuing Nell but that she’d told him to come back when he inherited.”

“That was cold.”

“Nell could be cold. I imagine we would be, too, if our survival depended upon it. It wasn’t a courtship, for God’s sake, it was a business arrangement.”

Sir Harry nodded. “That’s it, then? I thought you said there’d been a dozen men in attendance. I’ve only got six names.”

“I will investigate the others, Harry. Apart from the six I just gave you, there are myself, two women, and a man I suspect was sent by Bow Street.”

“And the women?”

“Veiled. One, I think, was Flora Denton, Nell’s friend.”

“And the other?”

Geoff hesitated. Even though she’d been shrouded and veiled, he’d recognized the set of Miss Lovejoy’s shoulders, the slender lines of her form, the grace with which she moved. He wasn’t certain he wanted to bring her name into this.

Even while he’d been angry to find her at the funeral, he had to admire her ingenuity. He wasn’t particularly concerned that Flora had given her any information. No, Flora Denton was too canny for that. She knew discretion was her only choice. Now, almost certainly, the little dilettante would be flummoxed. She’d give up and sit quietly until someone from her family arrived to handle the matter for her. She had neither the experience nor the grit for more.

“The other woman?” Harry prompted again. “Did you recognize her?”

“I’ll take care of it, Harry. You follow up on the men.”

“Men? That’s a waste of my talents, Morgan. Trying to regain your reputation as a lady’s man?”