To Seduce a Bride (7 page)

“Will your boarders be willing to apply themselves?” she asked.

“I have no doubt they will.”

Her reticence must have continued to show, however, for Fanny murmured, “It is asking a great deal of you, I know. You needn't help if you are uncomfortable, Lily.”

“No, of course I want to help,” she said quickly, trying to control her squeamishness at participating so directly in the courtesan trade. “It is just that I wonder whether your boarders will be amenable to your plan to find them new patrons.”

Intervening, Fleur offered Lily a sympathetic glance. “Our girls will be delighted to land rich men, darling, take my word for it. And you will be doing them a good turn. If they can attract a higher class of clientele, they can earn significantly better livings.”

Lily nodded, knowing it wasn't fair to deny her help because of her own conflicted feelings. “Then we should begin at once.”

The elder courtesans looked relieved, while Fanny smiled her thanks. “The question is, can we make sufficient progress in the next month?” she asked Lily.

“I believe we can if they are agreeable to attending classes for several hours a day.”

“Good, because a month is all the time we have. We can perhaps put Mick off for a bit longer after that if we can convince him the debt will soon be repaid, but he could very well act on his threat to have Chantel and Fleur thrown in prison. So what do we do?”

Lily's brows drew together as she considered the problem. “I think we should conduct lessons in elocution and grammar to improve their improper speech, and in grace and deportment to improve their manners. We can use the drawing room as our main classroom, and we can clear one of the parlors to provide enough space for dance instruction…. But if we want to move quickly, I should begin devising a curriculum at once.”

She glanced up at Fanny. “And it would be best if we divide up responsibilities. I can teach your boarders a number of useful subjects, but you and Fleur and Chantel could advise them on things I know nothing about, such as conversing with prospective patrons.”

“Yes,” Fanny agreed, “that would be wise. I can also send some of my servants here to assist with the additional workload, and my dresser to help the girls acquire suitable gowns to wear at the soiree.”

“And I know Tess Blanchard will be glad to help,” Lily said. “I also think we should ask Basil to teach diction.”

Fanny's expression instantly shadowed. “Whyever would we ask him?”

Lily raised an eyebrow at her friend's curt response. “Because he is a Latin scholar and can speak four other languages as well. If anyone can teach proper speech, it is he. Moreover, he lives here.”

Basil Eddowes was one of their few male lodgers—a tall, gangly young man about Fanny's age who clerked and translated Latin for a prestigious law office in the City. Although Lily hadn't seen Basil in four years, he'd been her bosom friend when she was a girl. Fanny also knew him well, since they'd all been neighbors in Hampshire together during their childhood.

The trouble was that Basil and Fanny had been at loggerheads ever since she'd taken up her scandalous new life. He severely disapproved of her occupation, which made it strange that he would choose to board here with so many fallen women, where he would be obliged to see Fanny whenever she visited the house, which was frequently.

“Basil is so disagreeable,” Fanny said in a dark tone, “he will likely refuse just out of spite.”

“Let me ask him,” Lily offered.

“You may try, of course. He will be more willing if the request comes from you.”

Fanny was still speaking when Fleur rose abruptly. “It is settled then, so we had best get started. Chantel, come with me. We will find the girls and discuss our scheme with them. And then we must begin planning the soiree. It will be such a pleasure to have an entertainment to look forward to.”

Obediently Chantel stood and followed her colleague to the parlor door, but before she left, she glanced back at Lily. “We are delighted you have come, darling. Already our prospects are looking much brighter.”

Lily returned a tentative smile. “I only hope we can make it work.”

“It will, I feel sure of it.”

When the two older women had gone, Fanny eyed Lily over her teacup. “Are you
truly
certain you want to involve yourself so intimately in our problems?”

“Yes, of course,” Lily said at once. “I am happy to do it.”

She was more than willing to try to help Fanny and her friends. And more importantly, she wanted to help the young women she had met during the past two days to improve their lot in life. Even if she had qualms about the purpose of the soiree, tutoring them in speech and deportment was a worthy goal and might allow them opportunities for respectable jobs that they could never hope for otherwise.

“You mustn't worry about me, Fanny,” Lily assured her. “I wouldn't involve myself if I didn't wish to.”

“I know.” Fanny's smile suddenly turned humorous. “But when you came to London to escape Lord Claybourne, I doubt you expected to start a school for Cyprians and teach our boarders how to behave as proper ladies.”

“No,” Lily agreed lightly, hiding her wince at the mention of the marquess. “But this is an excellent use of my time.”

And will provide an excellent distraction as well.

She had thought of the beguiling nobleman far too often since that passionate interlude in the loft and his startling declaration the following morning.

Shifting uneasily at the memory, Lily picked up her own teacup. She simply
had
to stop dwelling on Lord Claybourne and his enchanting kisses. It was deplorable, how her thoughts were centered on a man she scarcely even knew. Especially since she suspected he had forgotten all about her the very next day.

By now his lordship would have moved on to more willing conquests, Lily was certain. Yet, vexingly, it would take her a good while longer to forget all about him.

One month later…

Lily still had not forgotten about Lord Claybourne four weeks later, but as she watched her pupils practice the proper use of silver and crystal one afternoon in the dining room, she felt pleased by the success of her “academy.” Indeed, her classes were in high demand, since word had spread among the London demimonde.

There were twenty-two young women enrolled now, and the fees were waived for those who signed a voucher promising to donate a portion of their first year's income to Fleur and Chantel's debt relief fund.

In addition to speech and manners and deportment, the girls learned about proper dress, dining at table, pouring tea, conversing with the gentility, dancing, attending the opera and theater…the myriad skills needed to enhance their prospects of securing wealthy, well-born patrons.

Almost all of her pupils, Lily believed, would be ready for the soiree, which was to be held next week, although she was in truth surprised by their rapid progress. Yet as Fleur had predicted, the girls were eager for the chance to significantly improve their circumstances.

“For finding rich men to support them,” Fleur had said more than once, “is the only way they will ever rise up out of poverty. It is the way of the world, Lily dear.”

The courtesans' view was pragmatic by necessity. And admittedly, living here with them in their rooming house had opened Lily's eyes to an entirely different world, much of which was not pleasant or adventurous in the least. She'd thought she understood the plight of penniless females in society, since she and her sisters had faced destitution and homelessness after their family scandal. But some of the young women here were much worse off than she had ever been.

On the whole, however, her pupils were a cheerful bunch. Thanks to Fanny and the elder courtesans, they had safe, genteel lodgings to call home, which was more than most actresses and opera dancers could claim. And many of the girls actually seemed to enjoy their extra employment as ladies of the evening. They had
chosen
this life, just as Fanny and Fleur and Chantel had. Yet there were some who had been forced into the flesh trade unwillingly.

Those were the ones Lily wanted most to help. Those unfortunate incognitas who were trapped in a profession they despised. Lily had already managed to help two of them escape by sending them home to Roslyn at Danvers Hall to join the manor staff as chambermaids. It was menial labor, true, and the jobs paid less than the girls made as lightskirts, but they considered serving in a noble household better work by far than earning their livings in a brothel.

It had brought Lily profound satisfaction to provide the two girls new lives. And she understood now why Tess strove so hard for her special charities.

She'd recruited Tess as an instructor twice a week, and Basil Eddowes taught speech classes early each morning before leaving for his work. Fleur and Chantel had thrown their hearts into mentoring the girls, and Fanny had won their adoration by sharing her secrets of becoming desirable to men.

The girls seemed most grateful for Lily's efforts, which also gratified her. From the first moment of the first class, it had quickly became clear to her that these young women needed her far more than the rich daughters she taught at the Freemantle Academy.

Additionally, Lily felt a humbling gratitude for her own comparatively good fortune. She and her sisters knew what it was to be at the mercy of fate. It made Lily shudder to think that they might have been forced into prostitution themselves, had not their step-uncle felt obliged to take them in, however grudgingly.

As for Mick O'Rourke, he seemed to be biding his time, waiting for the agreed-upon grace period to be over.

Yet Fanny had been busy with another endeavor to raise money. Rather than writing her memoirs, she had penned a manuscript based on her recent letters to Roslyn, entitled, “Advice to Young Ladies on Capturing a Husband.” The publisher anticipated brisk sales among the ton's debutantes when the book eventually went to print early this fall.

Lily's only regret now was that during the past month, Roslyn had fallen hopelessly in love with the Duke of Arden and become betrothed. If she'd remained at home to protect Roslyn, Lily lamented, perhaps she might have stopped her sister from making such a drastic mistake.

At least Arabella and Marcus still seemed to be happy. They had just returned to Danvers Hall from their monthlong wedding journey, according to Roslyn.

Lily yearned to see her sisters again, although not enough to risk encountering the Marquess of Claybourne.

Her gaze darkened as she remembered the dismaying letter Roslyn had sent her yesterday, warning that the marquess might not have lost interest in her. Reportedly Claybourne had made an unexpected trip to Hampshire in search of her.

He'd been directed there by Winifred, who was highly disgruntled to discover Lily was not visiting friends in her former neighborhood as she wanted everyone to believe.

Lily couldn't help but worry about his lordship's persistence. She'd been confident that she had escaped him. But apparently “out of sight” did not mean “out of mind” to him.

With any luck, though, he would never find her here, Lily thought as she moved from one elegantly set table to the next.

The score of female diners looked just as elegant as the place settings, all dressed in evening gowns even though it was barely two o'clock in the afternoon. They were practicing the art of drinking soup without slurping, and Lily had very few corrections to make.

She had just signaled the two manservants to clear away the soup plates and bring in the next course when she was approached by a chambermaid, who whispered in her ear.

“Beg pardon for intruding, Miss Loring, but you have a gentleman caller who wishes to speak with you.”

Lily felt her heart skip a beat. No gentlemen of her acquaintance even knew she was here…unless….
Surely
Lord Claybourne had not found her. “Did the gentleman give a name?”

“No, miss, but he looks like a fancy lord—and he acts like one, too. Said to tell you that he has ‘enough patience to outlast you,' whatever that means.”

Regrettably she knew exactly what that meant. Lily drew an uneven breath, alarmed at the thought of having to face the marquess again. “You put him in Miss Delee's sitting room, Ellen?”

“No, miss. He asked to be shown to your bedchamber.”

“My
bedchamber
?” Her tone had risen in pitch, but when Lily realized that several curious pairs of eyes had turned in her direction, she lowered her voice. “My bedchamber is not the proper place for a gentleman caller, Ellen.”

“I know, Miss Loring, but he wouldn't take no for an answer.”

It sounded just like Lord Claybourne, Lily thought, torn between exasperation and vexation.

Vexation won out when Ellen added, “He said you would rather have a private interview there than have him come to the dining room with your pupils present.”

At the implied threat, Lily pressed her lips together in irritation. Obviously she had no choice but to receive him in her bedchamber, since she didn't want him making a scene in front of an audience.

“Do you want me to fetch Miss Delee to deal with him?” the maid asked nervously at Lily's silence.

“No, I will see him, thank you, Ellen.”

After politely excusing herself from her pupils for a moment, Lily left the dining room and took the back stairs. Deliberately ignoring the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she climbed two flights to her own floor and marched down the corridor to her bedchamber. The door was shut, but she pushed it open—and came up short at the sight of Lord Claybourne.

He was actually lounging on her bed, his back propped up against the pillows, one booted leg casually drawn up as a prop for the book he was reading.

Her
book, she realized, her mouth dropping open at his temerity. But it was the man himself who made her speechless. It was shocking how just being in the same room with him seemed to draw all the air from her lungs.