A 19th century London courtesan agrees to a phony courtship with a navy captain and finds herself negotiating uncharted territory outside the boudoir.
*****
The year is eighteen-t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I left Clementine Price's home with a riot of thoughts clouding my head. I had cut our visit short, choosing not to solicit her input regarding the admiral's other request, that he be introduced to my foster family. My tutor's unspoken advice, which came in the form of subtle gestures and tactfully worded queries, made it clear I was treading on thin ice, and it helped me come to the decision that I would reveal my profession to the admiral prior to Lord Kingsley's visit.
As for her opinion that Captain Thompson did not wish to share me... Well, the evidence for this was beginning to stack up and become worrisome. All the more reason to put an end to our false affair. I had pacified the man long enough.
To assuage my troubled mind, I had my coachman stop at Pennington's Shoppe. If the topper I fancied was still there, I would purchase it without a hint of remorse. The bell above the door announced my arrival, and the two bodies inside turned to look at me. One was the shopkeeper, whom I offered a cordial smile. But a sour taste rose in my throat when I recognized the other as Mistress Harriett Middlestone, a courtesan whom I despised and who despised me back. If it hadn't been for the bell, I would have turned around and discretely walked out.
Ignoring them both, I feigned interest in the new arrivals. There were gloves, sashes, and parasols. None of which I cared about. What I wanted sat behind the counter on the display shelves; three long rows of bonnets in every colour and style. Surveying them carefully, I realized the topper I'd had my eye on no longer sat among them. When I let my gaze fall to the counter where the shopkeeper assisted Harriett, I saw my topper sitting amid a collection of hats she was examining.
Oh, blast.
"Well, don't be a stranger, Mistress Hayes." Harriett spoke without bothering to look at me. This was her way of insulting a person while pretending they mattered.
"I see you're busy. I don't want to interrupt." I lifted a pair of gloves off the table, eyeing the tiny pearls embellishing the trim. They were quite handsome.
"Nonsense. Why don't you help me decide on a bonnet? Your tutor's sense of fashion is legendary in our circle. I'm sure some of it rubbed off on you."
Why you little hedge-creeper.
Wishing not to cause a scene in my favorite shoppe, I approached the counter and looked over the bonnets as if they mattered. The first seemed much too simple for Harriet. Made of cotton, it bore an uninspired eyelet pattern on the hem. Perhaps she was contemplating a change of profession from courtesan to scullery maid. The second, a silk cap in red equipped with a gaudy feather, seemed more appropriate for a circus monkey.
The third option was mine. Made from tightly-pressed wool in a lovely shade of pecan, it gave a striking resemblance to a gentleman's top hat but with an arrangement of lace circling the brim. The perfect accessory for a day at the races.
