A 19th century London courtesan agrees to a phony courtship with a navy captain and finds herself negotiating uncharted territory outside the boudoir.
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The year is eighteen-t...
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~ Monday Jan 11th, 1813 ~
Lord Kingsley's second missive arrived by bellman. Although my letter to him provided numerous hints about the impropriety of corresponding with me while he showed interest in Alice, once I began reading, I wondered if his letters were written as a means to showcase his interest in risqué poetry and prose. And, the further I read, the more difficult it became to control my laughter.
Your alluring smile is only matched by the roundness of your bosom, and I feel my member swell at the thought of pressing my thickness between your pale globes...
Mistress Hayes. Mistress Hayes. I could love you in a hundred different ways.
It seemed the young lord was either unaccustomed to heeding subtle hints, or he chose to ignore them. Regardless, my return missive would need a tactful and delicate touch. And when I had finally sent off the letter, my conscience was clear and a good part of my morning was gone.
I hurried to call for a carriage to take me to the military rehabilitation home in west London, a trip I had scheduled for myself after hearing of Sam's wounded brother. Having only experienced the ills of infirmed children, I was hoping my bedside manner would translate to injured soldiers. When I arrived at the desk of the secretary and was asked the name of the patient I had come to see, I looked rather foolish trying to recall the name.
"His surname is Saxton. And he goes by Reggie to his family. So, I expect his birth name is Reginald Saxton."
Lifting a monocle to one eye, the secretary thumbed through a journal on his desk. When he had found what he was looking for, he prompted me for more information. "Can I have your name, please?"
"Mistress Rosalind Hayes. I am a friend of Reginald's brother, Sam."
"I do not have a Mistress Hayes on Mister Saxton's approved list of visitors. Have you been to our facility before?"
"Never."
The secretary took a moment to survey my attire, which I didn't begrudge him. I was glad I had worn my best fur-trimmed pelisse for that day's outing. "I'm afraid all new visitors must be registered and receive prior commendation from a patient or approval from an administrative officer."
Oh, dear. One had to jump through a multitude of hoops just to do good these days. I should have expected to run into such an obstacle and had Sam vouch for me. "I am registered at London's Hospital for Infirmed Children and know the administrators there very well. Would assurance from one of them do in this case?"
Again, his monocle returned to his eye as he flipped through another text, this one with a thick binding and the army emblem stamped on the spine. He stopped his search somewhere near page ten and, using his forefinger, traced the words, mouthing them quietly to himself before repeating them out loud to me.
