Deeper in Sin (13 page)

10

 

—From an unfinished manuscript entitled
A Courtesan Confesses
by Anonymous

 

 

Armed with the Cyprian's name—Nell—Sophie asked all around the stews. Her hope was that they'd heard of the Cyprian because she would be scandalous. Gossiping was as popular in sprawling London as it was in tiny villages.

She learned Nell had been an actress once, so she went to Drury Lane. There she heard wild stories. That Nell had juggled both a duke and an earl as lovers at the same time—Nell had even had them both in her bed at the same time. Then Nell had thrown both rich men over for the younger son of a viscount because he was so handsome.

It was said that Nell had turned down the Prince Regent seven times.

Allegedly, Nell had broken apart a diamond necklace she'd been given by the Prince Regent, and she had put all the money in accounts for all the children in a foundling home.

But Sophie couldn't find anyone who knew Nell's exact address. It was always described as “somewhere near Mayfair.”

Finally, in Spitalfields Market, Sophie found an elderly man whose son worked as Nell's coachman. The older man had a flower stall that he operated with a buxom woman of about forty, who called him “Da,” which was an endearment for “Father,” and told him not to say a word. At least, not until Sophie produced a few shillings.

She surrendered them with a gulp. It was hard to give up money when she had so little. But if it got her a protector, it was a wise investment.

The elderly man thought his son worked for a gentleman's widow. His daughter snorted, rolled her eyes, but didn't correct her father.

The man gave her Nell's address, and Sophie bought a flower for her bonnet. The man tried to give it to her for free, claiming it was because she was so pretty. But upon seeing the daughter's sour look, Sophie paid. Then she hurried off to Nell's.

She had no idea how to appeal to Nell's good nature. But she knew Nell took bribes, and she prayed she had enough money to do so.

So to save a few more pennies, she walked from Spitalfields.

She was used to walking. Mrs. Tucker, her adoptive mother, had treated her as a servant—she had worked hard, had walked everywhere. She had cleaned the house, fetched food from the village, delivered things for Dr. Tucker.

Sophie knew, from her mother's journal, that she hoped her daughter would be raised as a gentleman's child.

But Sophie hadn't been. The doctor's wife took advantage of her, threatening to send her away or to a workhouse if she didn't work harder at her chores. And the doctor was too caught up in his practice and his medical experiments to notice.

Sophie didn't know life could be any different. She had worked hard, and she grew to like working hard. She'd liked walking in the country and talking to people when she delivered medicine to them. Most of the countrywomen had liked her and invited her in for tea or a treat. She'd loved to get a taste of fresh pie or a sip of milk, and she had loved to visit the farms at lambing time.

She knew she was illegitimate, and she'd known she could have been abandoned and left to die. That happened to poor, innocent babies.

So she'd never resented Mrs. Tucker. She'd thought she should be grateful, and that had made her happy.

Belle said she always looked for the best in things. She supposed that was true.

It had been only when she'd gotten pregnant and she'd been afraid for the future of her child that she had finally seen Mrs. Tucker for the cruel, grasping woman she was. The doctor's wife had always hated her because of who her mother was. The woman had taken the money left for Sophie's care and spent it on herself and her own children. And she'd been waiting for Sophie to make a mistake—for “her blood to show”—so she could hurt Sophie.

And when Sophie had been turned out of the house, after she'd had her baby, she and Belle had walked for miles with the children to try to find work and a place to live.

Walking to Nell's street barely left her breathing hard.

When she saw Nell's home, a brand-new town house in a block of gleaming new white houses on the outskirts of Mayfair, Sophie stopped in her tracks.

It stood four stories tall with so many windows that sparkled in the sun. Freshly painted railings enclosed planters filled tidily with pretty crocuses and other spring flowers. The door had a gleaming brass knocker and handle. Delicate curtains were tied back in the windows.

The house spoke of taste, comfort, and money.

Her heart lifted with hope.

This was what she could achieve as a courtesan. What she must achieve!

If she found a protector, she could raise her son in a lovely house with clean beds and lots of food.

She walked up and boldly rapped on the door.

After a while, it swung open. Sophie expected a footman, but a young, slender girl in a brown dress gaped at her, then said, “No, you mustn't come here. Deliveries and the like go downstairs. At the tradesman's door. If you're applying for a kitchen maid's position, that's where you go.”

Sophie's heart plunged. In her old wool cloak over her ordinary dress, she supposed she looked like a servant. “I am here to speak with Mrs. De Lyon. It is in regard to a ball and to a—a payment she is expecting,” Sophie bluffed. Surely, Nell's servants must have been told to admit certain young women, the ones who had come to give bribes.

The girl opened the door. “Follow me, then, miss.”

Sophie was lead into a small foyer with black-and-white tile. Nothing as ostentatious as the duke's house, but still lovely. Ornate Queen Anne tables stood in niches, topped by vases filled with an explosion of white orchids. Those must have come from hothouses—there was a fortune in flowers surrounding her.

For all Nell sounded so wild, she had good taste.

She obviously loved beautiful things.

This was the life Sophie could have. And Cary thought she should run back home, where she would end up in a workhouse when she ran out of money, and leave herself prey to Devars, who just wasn't going to leave her alone. The only way she could save them all was with money.

Cary meant well.

But he was wrong.

Sophie never used to think about money. She believed in love and happiness. But now, with a child to support and Belle's family to help, it was all she could think about.

The maid, who was young, stopped in the doorway to a parlor and pointed to a chair. “Wait there, miss, and I'll see if the mistress will see you.”

 

Left alone, Sophie was too nervous to sit.

Did she have enough money to tempt Nell to help her?

She walked to a window. It overlooked the small, neat rear yard. There were roses, and plots of earth obviously laid out for a kitchen garden.

It seemed so strange to think a woman who had stood naked in a fountain of front of hundreds of people (mostly men) thought of mundane things such as kitchen gardens. But Cyprians were people too of course.

Someone cleared her throat behind Sophie, and Sophie jumped and whirled around. The double doors of the drawing room had been opened, and a tall and graceful woman stood framed between them.

A dark crimson sheath of a dress clung to Nell's slender form. Her black hair was lifted in a smooth, elegant knot. One long streak of white ran through her hair. Her lips were obviously painted, but that only enhanced their wide beauty. Nell was not young, but she was strikingly lovely.

Sophie had been called beautiful, but she felt like a plain brown wren beside a spectacular black swan.

“I am very intrigued,” the Cyprian said. “I take it you lied your way into my house. So who are you and what do you want? Or should I just have you thrown out now?”

“No, no, please don't throw me out! Please. I'll pay you for your help. I'll pay you anything!”

Nell lifted a suspicious brow. Then she pointed at the silk-covered settee. “Sit down, girl. You look terrified.”

“You want me to sit? You aren't going to throw me out?”

“Should I? Do you intend to hit me over the head and steal my silver? I wouldn't try it. I learned how to fend off strong, big men when I was younger than you.”

“You did? I should like to know how to do that!”

Nell laughed. “Whoever you are, I do not think you are a threat to me. You wear every expression on your face. I take it you are a girl from the country who desperately wants to get into a Cyprian ball so she can live a glamourous life as a pampered courtesan?”

Her reasons to become a Cyprian had nothing to do with glamour and everything to do with survival and protecting the children, but she said, “Yes. But how did you know?”

“It is rather obvious.”

Sophie surged up from the settee. “I know I am asking a lot. And I'm sorry I told a lie to get in. I was afraid you wouldn't see me. I have to go to the next Cyprian ball. I have to find a protector. The children will starve if I don't, or I'll have to let—no, I must become a Cyprian and you are my only hope. My only hope!”

Nell had not sat down. Her vehement speech had made Nell step back, startled.

Had she gone too far? But she had to go on. Nell must have been young and struggling once too. “You see, I was married”—she hated to lie, but it made her sound far more sympathetic—“but I lost my husband at Waterloo. He was only nineteen!” That was true, and it made her chest construct. It made her shudder in pain.

Nell sighed.

“It is now my responsibility to look after—well, my family.”

“You have children?”

Did she admit to it? “Yes. I have a son. And my very best friend—my only friend—lost her husband to war. She has children too. But she couldn't do this. She would never be a courtesan. So it is up to me.”

Nell was not ringing any bell or summoning a servant to toss her out.

So she rushed on. “I desperately need to become a courtesan. All my life I've been told I was pretty. I know I am not beautiful, but I thought there might be some gentleman who would want me. My mother—my mother was a courtesan. I never knew her. But I knew she survived. She survived well. And I thought I could too.”

“Who was your mother—what is your name, child?”

“I am almost one-and-twenty, so I am no longer a child.”

“That is true. I am sure you have not been a child for a long time. Since you learned of your husband's death, I should imagine.”

That
was
true, and Sophie nodded. “But I don't know who my mother was. She gave me to a family in the country, paid them to raise me. I never even knew that until—until my husband had died. They would not even give me my mother's name. I wish I did know who she was.”

“It is probably best that you do not know. You should go home.”

Nell was as bad as the duke. What was it about her that screamed she should not become a courtesan? With a courtesan mother and no money, what else was she to do?

“There are so many reasons I can't. I do have some money. I heard”—she had to say this politely—“that you help young women, in return for a . . . gift.”

“Sit, and we shall have tea.” Nell swept to a tasseled bell pull and gave it a yank. She moved as though she floated above the ground.

Gentlemen would be transfixed just watching her walk. “How does a woman become as bewitching?”

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

But Nell looked pleased. Returning, the woman smiled. “She becomes the protégé of an experienced and successful woman.”

“How would she do that? Would it cost money?”

“Not in this case. I have been careful, and I have sufficient money for my needs. The bribes do help though. They pay for little luxuries.” Her eyes twinkled. A rattling sound came from the hall. “Tea,” she said.

Minutes later, Sophie held a cup of tea in a fragile, gilt-rimmed cup.

She realized Nell was a truly independent woman. She had her own house, her own income, and she apparently did as she pleased.

Few women in England could make such a claim.

All Sophie had to do was forget the Duke of Caradon, and this could be her future.

But as she was looking at all of this, her heart
ached
.

She remembered what it had been like when she'd fallen in love with Samuel. Logic told her it was hopeless. She was an adopted daughter with uncertain parentage, and he was an earl's son. But that didn't stop her heart from relentlessly loving him.

In one night, she had fallen headlong into love with Cary, and it hurt terribly now.