The Courtesan's Courtship

Geoff raised an eyebrow, remembering the days when he’d been known as the “Sheikh.” He’d had a way with women then, and a lighter heart and readier smile. And a much greater tolerance for social games and feminine wiles.

And, blast it all, he was about to pay for those days by having to keep a closer eye on the Lovejoy girl.

Late the following afternoon, Dianthe slipped quietly in the door of La Meilleure Robe and reached up to silence the little shop bell. She did not want Madame Marie’s clients looking into the corridor to see who had come in. The ladies would be waiting for her in the large fitting room in the back, so she hurried along the dark corridor and rapped twice before entering.

“Dianthe!” Sarah exclaimed. “Thank heavens you’ve come. We feared something had happened to you.”

“This arrangement really is not satisfactory,” Lady Annica pronounced. “What if we’d needed to contact you, Dianthe? What if you hadn’t been able to come? How would we have known where—oh! That reminds me. I have a letter from Afton for you. Mr. Thayer brought it by this morning. It was posted before your troubles, dear.”

Dianthe tucked the letter into her reticule. Thank heavens the ladies were there—Sarah, Annica and Charity. She removed her gloves and sat on one of the stools used for marking hems. “If you knew where I was staying, you could hardly plead ignorance if the police had come, could you?”

The ladies exchanged a telling glance.

“They did come, did they not?” she guessed, a knot tightening in her stomach.

“Well, yes,” Charity admitted. “And I confess that it was a relief not to lie. My husband would have known it immediately.”

Dianthe glanced at Annica and Sarah, and they nodded in admission. So, it was official. The authorities were in pursuit of her. But first things first. “I am sorry I was late, but I didn’t get much sleep last night. In fact, I only dozed off near dawn.”

“If you are not sleeping—”

“It is not because of my bed or accommodations. I am quite comfortable, but I ache to be doing something, and that makes me restless.”

Sarah sat forward. “Mr. Renquist told us that you went to Miss Brookes’s funeral yesterday. Are you mad, Dianthe? What if you’d been seen? You could have been thrown in jail!”

Dianthe remembered the funeral attendees who had watched her every move. “I wore a veil and only spoke with a friend of Miss Brookes’s, but she would not tell me anything. She is suspicious of me. Of anyone, in fact. She said that her income depends upon her discretion.”

“Oh! I had not thought of that!” Charity said. “Men—husbands and fathers—would not want their loved ones to know what they have been doing. And with whom.”

“All the same, a number of them were at the church. Mr. Renquist has their names and will be questioning them.”

Annica sighed. “This is apt to be a lengthy process. I would feel better if we knew how you were situated, Dianthe. I cannot bear to think of what hardships you may be enduring just to remain out of sight.”

Hardships? She was living in the veritable lap of luxury. She could not imagine what Lord Morgan had told the servants, but her every whim, her slightest wish, was catered to as if she were a visiting dignitary. “I am quite comfortable. Please do not give it a second thought.”

“Are you protecting your reputation, Dianthe?”

“I…am doing what needs to be done. I know that you, too, have run grave risks to accomplish your goals, and I am not taking unreasonable risks.” She’d known from the moment she’d decided not to taint her friends with her problem that she was risking her reputation—if, indeed, she had one left. What else could she do? Drag them down into ignominy with her? Never!

Annica frowned. “I do not like this the least little bit, Dianthe. You should come to one of us at once.”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, ready for battle. “My reputation is the least of my problems. It is already in shreds. Confess! What is the on dit concerning me?”

Another awkward pause told Dianthe almost all she needed to know. “How bad is it?”

“People hush when we enter a room, as it is known that we are friends,” Sarah admitted. “My brother, Reginald, told me this morning that…that there is an order sworn to apprehend you. The only question people are asking is why you did it.”

Dianthe sighed deeply. Well, she had suspected as much. Gossip hates a void, and she’d become the juiciest topic yet in the slow summer months when most of the ton had retired to the country.

“Auberville is trying to persuade the authorities otherwise,” Annica said. “He provided them with a letter you had written me some time ago, so that they could compare your handwriting with the handwriting on the note found at the scene. It did not match, of course, but that did little to convince them. Auberville says there is some other piece of evidence they have against you, but he would not tell me what it was.”

“I cannot imagine what it could be. That was the only time I’d ever seen Miss Brookes.”

“That is what we tried to tell them,” Annica said. “But there is speculation now that there was some sort of secret connection that has been kept from common knowledge. I cannot imagine what but, given the girl’s occupation, I shudder to imagine what is being said.”

Dianthe took a deep breath and braced herself. “The point now is that…well, I’ve become fodder for the gossip mills.”

“Whatever is whispered behind fans can be overcome when the truth is out, my dear,” Charity said.

“Doubtful,” Dianthe murmured. “Once something like this is whispered, one cannot reclaim a spotless reputation. I only hope the truth will redeem the portion my friends and family have lost.”

“Drats!” Annica cursed. “This is so unfair! All you did was stop to help someone you thought was ill.”

“And I’d do it again,” Dianthe admitted. “So there is no use in agonizing over this. I simply wanted to know if there was any advantage in coming forward.”

“No!” the ladies exclaimed in one voice.

Sarah stood and began to pace circles around the small room. “My husband says you should not have hidden. He says they—the police—have likely taken that as an indication of guilt. But it is too late to undo that now.”

Then it was even worse than she’d suspected. “I doubt I will be going out much. The risk of recognition is too great.”

“Disguise,” Sarah said.

“Or go out only after dark,” Annica advised.

Dianthe donned her bonnet and gave them an uncertain smile. If she went forward with her new plan, and if she could conquer her fears, she would be doing both.

Chapter Four

D ianthe curled up in the overstuffed chair in her room and unfolded Afton’s letter. She wanted to read slowly and savor every word. The letter had been written weeks ago and would be full of ordinary news and everyday observations. Oh, how she longed for something ordinary.

She took a sip of her tea and began reading.

My dearest little sister,

I write to you with some good news and some of a curious nature. First the good news. I am bearing a little McHugh. I have known for quite some time but have delayed telling anyone until I was certain all was well. Rob is completely overjoyed. I have never seen him so doting. We expect the blessed event to occur just before the New Year.

Dianthe counted backward on her fingers. Heavens! Afton was five months along. How wonderful. Oh, but a doting McHugh would never allow Afton to travel over rough Scottish roads in a delicate condition. Nor should he. Afton should stay safe at home. And that meant McHugh would come himself. That thought made her more than a little uneasy. McHugh was not a patient man, and he would rush into the Bow Street office demanding to see any evidence against her, and that any charges be dropped. He’d likely end up in Newgate alongside her.

Oh, but she wouldn’t think of that now. Afton was having a baby! What joyous news. If Dianthe could just get clear of this mess, she would hie to Scotland to be with her. She blinked her tears away and returned her attention to the letter.

And now for the curious news. The postmaster in Little Upton forwarded a letter to me here. To say I was surprised, even shocked, is an understatement. Do you recall that Mama had a sister, Aunt Dora, who emigrated to Australia? Well, it appears that was a lie to cover a more scandalous event.

A visiting dignitary seduced Aunt Dora, and Grandfather turned her out when he discovered her transgression. She did not go as far as Australia, however. She went to London and took up with a wealthy merchant. He was married, but kept Aunt Dora comfortably. She had a daughter, Eleanor. Just think! We have a cousin. It was she who wrote to us.

Aunt Dora died a few years ago, and would never discuss her family, so Eleanor only recently found out about us. Her father preceded Aunt Dora in death, and his family turned their back on Eleanor, refusing to acknowledge her or contribute to her support.

Here lies the difficulty, Dianthe, and I pray you will be gentle and not judge her. Lacking both family and fortune, Eleanor was left to her own devices when Aunt Dora died. Untrained for any useful occupation, she had little choice but to enter the demimonde. She now wishes to leave that life behind, and begs that we will help.