The courtesan’s courtship

Pursuing a role in Parliament, Christopher Lattimar needs a virtuous marriage to make society overlook his roguish past. When beautiful and disarming Ellie Parmenter offers to reform and refine him, he’s too tempted to say no.

Once a courtesan, Ellie knows a thing or two about polishing a diamond in the rough. She has no designs on Christopher—or any man in search of a wife—but their best-laid plans begin to tumble once lessons in respectability turn to seduction...

Hadley’s Hellions

Four friends united by power, privilege and the daring pursuit of passion!

From being disreputable rogues at Oxford to becoming masters of the political game, Giles Hadley, David Tanner Smith, Christopher Lattimar and Benedict Tawny live by their own set of unconventional rules.

But as the struggle for power heats up so too do the lives of these daring friends. They face unexpected challenges to their long-held beliefs and rigid self-control when they meet four gorgeous independent women with defiant streaks of their own…

Read Giles Hadley’s story in

Forbidden Nights with the Viscount

Read David Tanner Smith’s story in

Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

Read Benedict Tawny’s story in

Convenient Proposal to the Lady

Available now!

This is the final book in Hadley’s Hellions, Christopher Lattimar’s story: Secret Lessons with the Rake

Author Note

It’s difficult for the modern reader to understand how limited the world was for a ‘gently born’ nineteenthcentury girl. Her sole occupational choice was marriage, her behaviour was held to an exacting standard, and any serious lapse of conduct meant permanent exile from her class and her family.

Cast into the demi-monde, my heroine must survive in a world for which she’s had no preparation. Ellie Parmenter is particularly grateful for the friendship of a scandalous matron of her own class—and for her son, who treats Ellie like the lady she was when she was born. When the opportunity arises to repay that kindness by teaching Christopher Lattimer how to court a girl with the wealth and connections to advance his Parliamentary career she welcomes it—even though success will mean terminating her association with the man who’s become so dear to her.

Christopher realises it’s time to end his wandering ways and take a wife, as all his friends have. But after an adulthood spent among the demi-monde he knows nothing about how to behave around a proper young virgin. Though he’d rather woo the lovely and now available Ellie, an affair with a famous courtesan might harm his career—and marrying her is impossible.

But love has a way of breaking all the rules…

I hope you’ll enjoy Christopher and Ellie’s story.

Secret Lessons with the Rake

Julia Justiss

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JULIA JUSTISS wrote her ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook, and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college she turned to novels. Her Regency historical romances have won or been placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests visit juliajustiss.com.

Books by Julia Justiss

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Hadley’s Hellions

Forbidden Nights with the Viscount

Stolen Encounters with the Duchess

Convenient Proposal to the Lady

Secret Lessons with the Rake

The Wellingfords

The Wedding GambleThe Proper WifeA Most Unconventional MatchRegency Candlelit Christmas‘Christmas Wedding Wish’From Waif to Gentleman’s WifeSociety’s Most Disreputable Gentleman

Ransleigh Rogues

The Rake to Ruin HerThe Rake to Redeem HerThe Rake to Rescue HerThe Rake to Reveal Her

Silk & Scandal

The Smuggler and the Society Bride

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Who else could I dedicate my ‘son and dog’ story to but Eve Gaddy? Brainstorming and critique partner, conference travelling buddy and friend who has shared so much of this up-and-down writer’s journey with me. You’re the best.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Hadley’s Hellions

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

London—March 26th, 1832

Laughing and energised, Christopher Lattimar, Member of Parliament for Wiltshire, led his friends into the small private room at the Quill and Gavel, a tavern on a quiet street near the Houses of Parliament. ‘Time to celebrate our achievement. I’d say it’s a night for wine, women and song!’

‘Or at least wine and women,’ Ben Tawny agreed with a grin.

‘Two of my favourite things,’ Christopher said.

‘As we well know,’ Ben replied.

‘You should,’ Christopher tossed back. ‘Since until recently, you outdid me in enjoying both.’

‘Enough, you two,’ Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, said with a mock frown. ‘Ah, here’s Ransen with some ale. Though, given the momentousness of the achievement, Ben, you might have ordered champagne.’

‘Too French!’ Ben replied. ‘To celebrate the first change in four hundred years in the way Parliamentary representatives are chosen, we needed good English ale.’

‘We’re not there yet,’ David Tanner Smith cautioned as he deposited his tall frame into a chair. ‘The Third Reform Bill only passed the House today. We’ve still got to get it through the Lords.’

‘After all the riots and dissention when the Second Bill failed last autumn, the Lords wouldn’t dare oppose it now,’ Giles said. ‘The country won’t stand for any further delay!’

‘We’ll see,’ Davie replied. ‘Still, getting it passed in the House was a momentous achievement.’ Grabbing a mug from the tray the innkeeper left for them, he lifted it high. ‘To Lord Grey’s leadership!’

‘And to yours,’ Ben said, raising his mug to Davie. ‘We provided the agitation, but you honed the bill’s provisions.’

‘I think we should drink to us all,’ Christopher said. ‘Who would have imagined ten years ago that four Oxford misfits would band together, win seats in Parliament, and help bring about the biggest change in British government since the Middle Ages?’ He raised his mug. ‘To my dear colleagues and best friends. To the Hellions!’

‘To the Hellions,’ the others echoed, and downed a long draught.

‘Shall we talk strategy?’ Davie proposed. ‘Draw up a list of which peers are most likely to be persuaded, and decide the best arguments to sway them?’

‘We shall—but not tonight,’ Giles said. ‘Let’s just enjoy this first victory. Speaking of which...’ he paused to drain his mug and set it on the table ‘...I’m afraid I must abandon the celebration. Maggie’s increasing, as you know, and hasn’t been feeling well. I should get back to her. Don’t let me break up the party, though! Have several more rounds, and tell Ransen to put it on my tab.’

‘Thanks for the offer, but I should go, too,’ David said. ‘I can’t wait to share the news with Faith.’

‘She’ll be so proud of you,’ Christopher said, admiration for his quiet, determined, brilliant friend filling him. ‘Through skill and planning, the Dowager Duchess’s commoner husband has brought a recalcitrant aristocracy to heel.’

Davie waved a deprecating hand. ‘A joint achievement—for all of us.’ Setting down his own mug, he said, ‘Goodnight, gentlemen! And thank you—for your hard work, and most especially, for your friendship all these years.’

‘That goes for all of us,’ Ben said. Raising his mug to the company, he said, ‘To the Hellions.’

Giles and Davie clapped Ben on the shoulder as they walked out. After finishing his own mug, Ben added it to the tray. ‘I’m off as well.’

‘Isn’t Alyssa away on one of her sketching expeditions?’ Christopher asked. ‘You could come out with me. Just a few rounds of ale, for old time’s sake.’

Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘A few rounds of ale? What about the “woman” part of the celebration? I understand you recently parted company with the Divine Clarissa. Have you replaced her yet?’

‘Not yet. There are several matrons of great appetite and small morals who have made their interest quite clear.’

‘And Mrs Anderson recently left the Duke of Portland’s protection. I seem to remember her casting lures in your direction, even while she was with Portland.’

‘Can’t help being irresistible,’ Christopher said, and ducked his friend’s punch. ‘Oh, they are all lovely enough. But none of them...quite tempt me.’

The image of a courtesan who had always more than tempted him came to mind. How fast he’d jump to follow, were Ellie Parmenter to crook a finger in his direction!

Shaking his thoughts free, he said, ‘How about spending the rest of the evening at Madame Aurelie’s? Good wine, lovely women to pour it, and a few hands of cards. Almost as respectable as a gentleman’s club. I don’t think Alyssa would object.’

Ben gave him a wry grin. ‘She probably wouldn’t. But going to a gaming hell run by a famous former courtesan, with ladies discreetly available for select customers who can afford their high fees, isn’t the sort of behaviour I want to indulge in.’

Before Christopher could remind him how often he’d indulged in it in the past, his friend quickly added, ‘I know I could accompany you, share a bottle of wine, a round of cards, and nothing more than conversation with ladies who are as witty as they are beautiful. But...it just doesn’t appeal any more. Sorry. Don’t let me spoil your pleasure, though! In fact, in honour of our frequent revels in the past, drink twice the wine and beguile twice the ladies, for me.’

He gave Christopher’s hand a pat. ‘Enjoy yourself—as if I need to tell you that! I’ll take the tray down.’ Picking it up, he gave Christopher a wink and headed out the door.

Though Madame Aurelie and her charming company beckoned, as Christopher watched his friend leave, he couldn’t stifle a little sinking feeling in his gut...that surely wasn’t loneliness.

Chapter One

Two weeks later

Afternoon sun, diffused to a soft glow by the sheer curtains at the window, cast a flattering light over the face and figure of the voluptuous blonde in the diaphanous dressing gown. As Christopher crossed the sitting room to the couch on which she reclined, the lady stretched out an arm, a diamond bracelet dangling from her fingers. ‘Christopher, darling, what a pleasant surprise! Fasten this for me, won’t you? The clasp is troublesome.’

With an indulgent smile, Christopher bent to perform that task, tweaking one blonde curl after he finished. ‘Troublesome, like its owner?’ he teased.

China-blue eyes widening in reproach, she pursed full pink lips in a pout. ‘That’s no way to talk to your mama.’

‘Maybe not. But the usual rules of filial behaviour don’t apply when your mother is a Beauty who still twists men around her little finger and looks more like a sister than a parent.’

A fact that, depending on the day, inspired him alternately with pride, amusement or chagrin.

‘Where did you get that new bauble? Henderson?’ he asked, naming the most assiduous of her current admirers.

She waved a hand. ‘Yes. Henderson positively begged to be allowed to send me a small token of his esteem, so I at last relented. The bracelet is lovely,’ she observed, lifting her arm to admire its sparkle. ‘However, I think I must dismiss him. He’s becoming quite tiresomely possessive, and you know I can’t tolerate that.’

If she did send him packing, it wouldn’t be because Christopher’s father—or rather, the man who legally filled that role—objected. Lord Vraux and his Lady had gone their separate ways for years, and everyone knew it. Just as they all whispered about the identity of Christopher’s real father and that of his sisters, his elder brother Gregory being the only one of the ‘Vraux Miscellany’ believed to be his lordship’s legitimate offspring.

‘Have you already someone in mind to replace him?’ he asked as he took the seat beside her. ‘Chernworth would happily claim his place. Then there’s that new puppy—Lord Rogers?—following you about, writing execrable verse in your honour.’

‘He’s just a boy,’ his mother said, shaking her head dismissively. ‘Chernworth’s amusing enough, but Kennington has become quite sharp of late. Really, I’m thinking of giving them all up. Retiring to the country, perhaps.’

‘Retiring to the country?’ he echoed. ‘You can’t be serious! Without the shops, theatres and entertainments of London, you’d expire of boredom in a week. And so would Society, without you to sparkle on its stage.’

‘Without me to scandalise and fuel its gossip, you mean,’ she retorted good-naturedly. ‘Still, it might be better to leave that stage while I’m still sought after. Before my beauty fades, and the admirers drift away.’

His charming, effervescent mother looked almost...sad. Surprised, Christopher said, ‘What brought on this green melancholy?’

Picking up a mirror from the table beside her, she inspected her face. ‘See, that wrinkle there?’ she pointed. ‘Kennington teased me about it last night.’

Christopher bent to peer at his mother. ‘That? It’s barely noticeable. Kennington’s an ass. You’ve more than a few good years left before you’re in your dotage! Besides, the girls still need to be settled.’

‘You’d have me attend those dreadful parties full of insipid virgins and their matchmaking mamas?’ His mother shuddered. ‘In any event, I wouldn’t be much help in getting your sisters respectably married. You know all those society beldames detest me.’

He couldn’t dispute that claim. Lady Vraux was much admired—by the masculine members of the ton. Jealous of her beauty, charm and the mesmerising effect she had on men, society’s women were less appreciative. Though her birth and position guaranteed his mama invitations to most society entertainments—as well as to others far less respectable—her successful flaunting of the standards of proper feminine behaviour had won her few female friends.

She shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘If those women devoted a fraction of the time they spend criticising me to enticing their men, they wouldn’t have to worry about my charms. In any event, I’ll probably call upon your Aunt Augusta to ferry the girls about when the time comes.’

‘Gussie would excel at it,’ Christopher agreed. ‘She thrives on keeping track of who’s pursuing whom and who’s the biggest prize on the Marriage Mart.’ He paused. ‘Maybe I ought to enlist her help. I’ve been thinking...’ He hesitated, not sure, given her probable reaction, he wanted to divulge his intent. ‘Perhaps it’s time I found a wife.’

Shocked silence reigned for a moment before his mother burst out laughing. ‘You, married?’ she said when she’d recovered herself. ‘What nonsense!’

‘No, Mama, I’m serious,’ he protested.

She fixed him with a penetrating look. ‘You’re just lonely, with all your closest friends wed now. Which is hardly a good reason to get yourself leg-shackled. But then, you’re well aware of my opinion on marriage.’

‘I miss my friends, it’s true,’ Christopher admitted. Especially Ben Tawny, who’d been his carousing partner on many occasions—until he met and married his lady. ‘Despite your view of the institution, all the Hellions have found wives who make marriage look quite attractive.’

His mother waved a dismissive hand. ‘But they are all virtually newlyweds, aren’t they? If they remain happy, they will be luckier than most.’

Luckier than she’d been, Christopher knew. His beautiful mother had been married off by her financially hard-pressed father to the highest bidder—Lord Vraux. A connoisseur of all things lovely, the years-older baron had been mad to add to his collection the most dazzling girl of her debut Season. Cold, withdrawn, and remote, he had never been able to give his passionate, outgoing, demonstrative wife the affection or companionship she craved.

Whatever the beldames thought of her morals, none could dispute that she’d been a devoted mother. Especially to Christopher, son of the man rumour said had been the love of her life.

‘You are serious, then?’ his mother demanded, after studying him as he’d sat silent, lost in thought. ‘Have you a candidate in mind?’

‘No. Which is why I need Aunt Augusta. I’m hardly a romantic, Mama. I’m not expecting to discover a woman who inspires me to write bad verse, like Lord Rogers.’

Even if his friends did seem to have found such joy, he thought, the loneliness that had dogged him of late deepened by a wistful envy.

‘All I require is a respectable young lady of good birth who can manage my household and give me heirs. Not a chit right from the schoolroom, of course; even a young widow would do. Although that’s not absolutely required, someone with an interest in politics would be a plus. As I’ve always avoided parties where respectable virgins gather, besides my sisters, I don’t know any. Hence my need for Aunt Gussie.’

‘A respectable young lady of good birth to manage your household and give you heirs? Sounds like a devilishly cold arrangement.’

‘Come now, Mama, you can’t claim to have been rapturously in love with every one of your...admirers!’

‘I was when the liaison began,’ she shot back.

‘A prudent match doesn’t have to be cold,’ he argued, not surprised she resisted the idea, after having been disposed of herself in a completely dispassionate manner. ‘I know better than to wed someone to whom I am indifferent, or who feels nothing for me. There’s no reason I couldn’t share a mutual respect and affection with a more...traditional woman.’

‘“Mutual respect” with a “traditional” woman?’ She shook her head. ‘Christopher, darling, you’re much too like me for such a match to ever work! After a decade of liaisons with the most beautiful, witty and seductive of females, a dutiful, respectable virgin would bore you to flinders. And what of passion?’

‘Just because a female is respectable doesn’t mean she must lack passion.’

She sniffed. ‘If that were true, I’d have far fewer married admirers.’

Giving up on that tack, Christopher continued, ‘I’ve reached the age where the idea of returning home to tranquillity and peace in the arms of a friend sounds more attractive than a night of drinking and debauchery in the bed of a courtesan.’

He wouldn’t admit to her—or even to himself—that the idea of possessing an eminently respectable wife did sound a bit dull. Or how much the loss of the camaraderie of the three now-married men who’d been closer than family to him for a decade was driving this newfound resolve to take a wife. Once he, too, married, their intimate circle would again be complete.

But above all, he couldn’t confess he felt compelled to wed that eminently respectable female so his own children would never have to wonder who their father was, endure the sniggers and whispers of their peers about their mother—or bear the cold disinterest of the man who was legally their father.

Such a confession would sound too much like an indictment. And despite all the turmoil, slights and indignities he’d endured growing up, he truly did love his volatile mother.

The disapproving expression on her face told him she wasn’t convinced. Before he could think of another argument to persuade her, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of a tall, dark-haired woman.

Seeing him sitting beside his mother, the lady halted, her smile fading. ‘I’m sorry, Felicia! I don’t mean to intrude. Billings told me you were free.’

‘Ellie!’ Lady Vraux cried, jumping up from the couch in a swirl of silken draperies to go meet the newcomer. ‘Of course, you’re not interrupting—I got your note, and was expecting you! How are you, my dear? I haven’t seen you this age!’

Gladness warming him, Christopher stood and drank in the pleasure of watching the quiet elegance that was Ellie Parmenter walk across the room. Though it must be ten years now since they’d met, each time he saw her he felt the same sense of awe—and sharp pull of sensual attraction—he’d felt the first time he’d beheld her in his mother’s drawing room, when he’d returned from Oxford on a term break. Her figure lush and well formed, her movements grace personified, her pale face perfection beneath a curly mass of dark hair, she had huge violet eyes with an air of mystery about them that he’d immediately lost himself in. The young collegian had been first mesmerised, then dismayed and disappointed to discover that this beauty a few years younger than himself was in keeping to a dissolute, much older peer.

Though neither she nor his mama had ever volunteered the details, he knew there’d been something havey-cavey about the way she’d come to be Summerville’s mistress. He’d been happy for her when the man died last autumn, freeing her from that relationship.

Had he not been entangled at the time with the Divine Clarissa, he might have pursued her himself.

‘I’m quite well,’ Ellie was saying as she returned his mother’s embrace. ‘I can wait in the drawing room until you finish your chat with Christopher.’

‘Nonsense! I’m sure he’d be interested in hearing your news, too. Wouldn’t you, my dear?’

‘I would indeed. Although, since I’m the one who turned up unexpectedly, if you ladies would prefer to have a comfortable coze, I could leave.’

‘No, please, stay, Christopher,’ Ellie said, echoing his mother’s request.

That matter disposed of, his mother rang for tea and, arm in arm with her visitor, proceeded to the sofa. He waved Ellie to the seat he’d just vacated and she took it, her dark beauty a perfect foil to his mother’s blonde loveliness.

‘So, what have you been doing to occupy yourself since Summerville’s demise, when you left the social scene?’ his mother demanded. ‘Not mourning, surely. More like celebrating, I’d expect.’

‘I was...ready to move on,’ Ellie allowed, her expression unreadable.

‘Summerville did leave you that charming little house, as well as an annuity, didn’t he?’ his mother asked. ‘Why don’t you set yourself up with a snug little gaming establishment, like Madame Aurelie? I know you have friends in the demi-monde who would be happy to work for you. The gentlemen would certainly flock there, wouldn’t they, Christopher?’

A gaming hell with Ellie as its mistress? There was no doubt. ‘Absolutely. You’d be a smashing success.’

‘Set that up, and you’d never have to worry about running out of money,’ his mother said. ‘As an independent woman, you’d retain control of your own funds and your own establishment—giving you more freedom and security than a married woman ever has.’

‘If not the respect of Society,’ Ellie murmured.

‘No great loss, that,’ Lady Vraux said with a shrug. ‘I would choose independence and control over my fortune any day! But since I take it that option doesn’t appeal, what do you intend to do? Not start that school for wayward females you mentioned when we last met, I hope!’

‘Actually, I have started it,’ Ellie said, giving his mother an apologetic smile. ‘I’d been thinking of doing something like that for years, particularly for girls born at fancy houses who don’t want to follow their mothers into the trade. It’s true that courtesans at the highest levels have the independence you so admire, but few females achieve that. Most girls caught up in the life can never leave it, either because they have no other way to support themselves, or because the madam or pimp controlling them won’t permit it. Which is why I was so grateful for Lord Witlow’s assistance in the matter of the girl who trapped Ben Tawny at the Quill and Gavel,’ she said, looking over at Christopher.

‘It’s Ben and the rest of us Hellions who owe you thanks,’ Christopher responded. ‘Without your sleuthing efforts and your knowledge of the demi-monde, we’d never have found her, and Ben might have been facing the ruin of his Parliamentary career. We’ve worked too hard for too long to lose one of our key members now, when the reforms we’ve struggled to advance are so close to being implemented.’

‘Yes, I read that your Third Reform Bill passed the Commons. Congratulations!’

Christopher nodded his thanks. ‘Now we just have to get it through the Lords. Though a few peers, like Lady Maggie’s father, are reasonable, a great many recalcitrants will try to drag their heels. Another reason we’re grateful that, with your help, we’ve still got Ben with us in the fight.’

‘I’m so thankful for your mama and all her kindness over the years. I was only too happy to do what I could.’ She gave him that sweet smile that always made his heart lift. ‘Most women of her class ignore me like an unpleasant odour. No one but Felicia has ever condescended, not just to acknowledge me, but to offer friendship. Still, had Lord Witlow not stepped in to guarantee the girl’s safety, she would have been too afraid of retribution for me to persuade her to come forward. Once he’d been made aware of the situation—and what I hoped to do for other girls—his lordship not only took steps to protect Jane, he invested in the project, allowing me to begin the school at once. I shall be indebted for ever.’

‘We are all indebted that the two of you worked in concert to clear Ben’s name,’ Christopher said.

A knock at the door, followed by the entry of the butler with the tea tray, brought a momentary halt to the conversation. Once they were settled with cups in hand, Ellie yielding to his mother’s request that she pour for them, Christopher turned back to her.

Curious about her unusual endeavour, Christopher asked, ‘How do you find the girls for your school?’

‘Are you sure you want to know more? I can become quite enthused when talking about my project,’ she cautioned.

‘Yes, I truly want to know,’ he assured her.

‘Very well. Working girls, or those with a friend or relative who has a daughter who aspires to a different life, send them to me. Or sometimes I find them at the posting inns, where I try to intercept country girls who’ve come to town looking for work, before the bawds can spirit them away.’

Lady Vraux frowned. ‘Isn’t that dangerous? I imagine the bawds don’t like being robbed of their pigeons!’

‘I’m sure they don’t,’ Ellie agreed. ‘When he learned what I intended, Lord Witlow insisted I have a burly man to accompany me. As it turns out, he engaged the bully boy at the house from which they obtained the girl meant to entrap Mr Tawny. It seems the man was sweet on her, and after Witlow helped her escape, was ready to trade his current employment for some honest work where he might be able to continue the acquaintance.’

‘Well, it’s commendable of you, my dear, setting up the school, but nobility does become rather dull. Surely you leave yourself some time for amusements—concerts, the theatre?’

Ellie smiled faintly, shaking her head. ‘I don’t go out much any more.’

‘To avoid being pestered by gentlemen hoping to persuade you to let them take Summerville’s place?’ his mother guessed. ‘Lovely as you are, I’m certain you’ve had offers! If you don’t intend to open an establishment that will earn you a reliable income, you must find some other way to secure your future. Are you planning to take another protector?’

‘No,’ Ellie said flatly, the bleakness that swiftly crossed her face before she masked it suddenly recalling one of Christopher’s earliest memories of her.

It must have been only a few weeks after they’d first met. Answering a summons by his mama to escort her home from a definitely disrespectable masquerade ball after her nominal escort had fallen into a drunken stupor, he’d encountered Ellie alone in one of the anterooms, weeping. Seeing him, she’d hastily wiped away the tears, insisted there was nothing wrong, and led him to his mother. Not knowing how to get her to confide in him, he’d let it go. But the devastation he’d read on her face then had struck him deeply—as did the glimpse of it he’d just seen.

No more certain now how to ask her about it, before he could speak, his mother continued, ‘But how are you to live, if you do not allow another gentleman to provide for you? You have the house, and Summerville was certainly generous with gifts, but even if you sell some jewels, it won’t cover your expenses for ever. Not with servants to pay, and candles, coal and all manner of victuals to be bought, to say nothing of clothing. To wrap your loveliness in outdated gowns would be a travesty!’

Ellie laughed. ‘I think I can tolerate the indignity of wearing last year’s fashions. Summerville was generous with his gifts, and thanks to your advice, I obtained that annuity and some other assets that will allow me to remain independent. I can maintain myself for a good long while before I have to worry about where my next meal is coming from.’

‘Is it the notoriety of living outside wedlock that holds you back?’ his mother persisted. ‘I can’t believe a lady as young and beautiful as you prefers to exist without...masculine attention.’

Again, Christopher caught a glimpse of distress before Ellie could submerge it. ‘I’ve quite had my fill of “masculine attention” these last few years. Nor does the idea of additional notoriety bother me. I’m not naive enough to think I can erase the past; even were I to live the rest of my life as chastely as a nun, I will always be known as a kept woman.’

‘We are all kept women, my dear,’ his mother replied, a look of bitterness passing over her face. ‘Some of us are trapped by wedding lines. You, at least, still have the power to choose your path. Don’t discount that freedom.’ Then, her face clearing, she said, ‘But enough of this sober talk. Let me tell you something that is certain to amuse you. Christopher just announced he has taken it into his head to marry! Is that not the most ridiculous notion you’ve ever heard?’

‘I’m so glad my intention to reform myself into a respectable gentleman inspires you to hilarity,’ Christopher said wryly, as his mother went off into another peal of laughter.

‘Come, you must dissuade him of the nonsensical idea, Ellie! You’ve encountered him in enough disreputable places and scandalous company to recognise he’s not sober husband material. Christopher, remaining devoted to a single woman?’ She shook her head. ‘He ought to spare some earnest, virtuous virgin a lifetime of sorrow and abandon the notion forthwith.’

Although she didn’t succumb to mirth like his mother, Ellie’s lovely eyes were definitely dancing when she glanced at him. ‘I must allow, Christopher, up to now, you’ve shown a preference for ladies more renowned for a...particular kind of skill than for their virtue, and an ever-changing parade of them at that.’

‘Indeed!’ his mother agreed. ‘Remember that soprano from the Theatre Royal—was it a vase she threw at you, Christopher? You’ve still got the scar on your chin! And the time you stole Harrington’s doxy out from under his nose, and he threatened to call you out! And then there was—’

‘Please, must you list all my indiscretions?’ Christopher protested, half-amused, half-embarrassed. ‘I agree, I’ve not exactly been a...model of punctilious deportment, but a man can change. Can’t he, Ellie?’

Instead of the witty riposte he expected, she stared at him—those magnificent violet eyes making his breath hitch, as they always did on the rare occasions when she gave him her full attention. ‘I don’t know, Christopher. I expect a man can reform, if he wants to badly enough.’ A faint smile touched her lips. ‘Unlike a female, even a truly notorious man can choose to turn respectable.’

Is that what caused the lingering sadness he saw in her eyes? Christopher wondered. She’d always seemed, and he’s always treated her, as a lady, despite her position as Summerville’s mistress. Had she once been respectable, and been robbed of that reputation by some cruel circumstance? He really must press his mother for more details about her background.

‘You’re young enough, you’ve plenty of time to change your mind,’ his mother told her. ‘When you meet a gentleman too charming to resist—or when you’ve run out of the ready.’

Setting down her teacup, Ellie made a face at her. ‘I hope to avoid both outcomes. But now, I should be getting on. I must check on the school, then discharge some errands before Lady Lydlington meets me there tomorrow.’

‘Giles’s wife Maggie has taken an interest in your work?’ Christopher asked, surprised.

‘Yes. Though I’ve been giving Lord Witlow the credit, I’m fairly certain it was his daughter Maggie who encouraged Witlow to provide protection for Mr Tawny’s accuser, for me on my forays into the posting inns, and prompted him to sponsor the school. I doubt a man of Lord Witlow’s position would have had any notion there might be a need for such things.’

Ellie shook her head, smiling. ‘The first time Lady Lyndlington visited the school, I told her I couldn’t believe her father would permit her to associate with me—or that her husband would, now that’s she’s in a delicate condition. She laughed, saying that since she’d married a radical, her papa already knew she wouldn’t let a little thing like Society’s disapproval stop her from helping a good cause. She found it fulfilling, she said, to assist to a better life girls who’d been born without the advantages she possesses. Her courage and graciousness remind me of you, Felicia. Though I don’t mean to suggest she considers me a friend, of course,’ Ellie added quickly.

‘You did one of her husband’s closest friends a great service. Why shouldn’t she befriend you?’ Christopher asked.

A slight flush coloured Ellie’s lovely face. ‘The daughter of an earl, the wife of a viscount and Member of Parliament, on intimate terms with... It’s quite impossible, Christopher, and you know it,’ she added, an unusual sharpness in her tone.

‘Perhaps for Lady Maggie,’ his mother inserted with a grin. ‘She’s far more respectable than I am!’

‘Well I, for one, can only be glad you’ve chosen to be slightly scandalous!’ Ellie said, leaning over to give Lady Vraux a hug. ‘Now I must go.’

‘Thank you again for the visit,’ his mother said. ‘Please, do come back soon! Even if it’s only to ask for money to support your noble cause.’

Smiling, Ellie shook a finger at her. ‘Be careful what you wish for. Next time, I might just come begging!’ Turning towards him, she said, ‘It was wonderful to see you, too, Christopher. Good luck getting your Reform Bill through the Lords this session. And with your other project. Despite your mama’s objections, if you’re set on reforming your rake’s ways, I know you will make a success of it and choose a wife wisely.’

With a graceful curtsy to his bow, she walked out, Christopher unable to pry his gaze from her lovely form until she’d shut the door behind her.

He looked back to see his mama watching him, a speculative look on her face. He bent over the teapot and poured himself another cup to mask the heat he felt rising in his face at her scrutiny.

However, rather than teasing him about his obvious admiration for Ellie, when he looked back at her, she was frowning. ‘I worry about her, Christopher,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘Despite what Ellie says, she can’t have extracted enough jewels or blunt out of Summerville to support herself indefinitely. And despite my distaste for the married state, having a husband—even one conspicuous for his absence—does provide a woman with a layer of protection. The unscrupulous are less likely to try to take advantage if they know there is a man about who could hold them accountable for their behaviour. With Summerville gone, Ellie has no one. And she’s far too lovely to be without a champion.’

As his mother perhaps intended, her words immediately called up Christopher’s protective instincts. He didn’t need his mother’s warning to know there were many men who would feel a woman in Ellie’s position was fair game. ‘Is there someone in particular you suspect might be thinking of taking advantage?’

‘She disappeared from the public eye immediately after Summerville’s death, so I can’t say for certain. But Viscount Mountgarcy and Sir Ralph Simonton have been sniffing around her for years, and they are both as dissipated as Summerville. As you well know, the two have vied over women and wagers since they left university. With their wealth and position, I can’t see either of them believing they should take Ellie’s refusal as a final answer.’

Christopher frowned. His mother was correct; neither would believe Summerville’s former mistress would actually reject an offer from a man of their lineage and deep pockets. They’d likely interpret her refusal as a game, her way of bargaining between them to get better terms. ‘I’ll keep an eye out. Wouldn’t want either of those dissolute characters laying a hand on her.’

His mother gave him another speculative look. ‘Maybe you ought to do more than just “keep an eye out”. She’s not indifferent to you, Christopher—and you’re certainly attracted to her. Even better, you like her. Were you to offer her carte blanche, I’m almost certain she would accept. It would be a far happier arrangement for you than marriage to some prune-faced virgin.’

He, Ellie’s protector? He couldn’t deny that the mere thought of possessing her sent a blaze of desire through him. In his many amorous liaisons, he’d never met another woman who touched him more deeply on a physical level. He was nearly certain they would make spectacular lovers. And as his mother said, they were already friends. He enjoyed her company, her good sense and intelligent observations, her calm demeanour that was often so in contrast to his emotional, volatile mother.

Protecting her from harm would be a privilege.

But taking a mistress wouldn’t advance his career, nor help him fit in better with his married friends. Indeed, it would distance him further.

He really did need a wife to achieve both those aims. He resisted a sigh. No matter how tedious the idea of marriage sounded. He’d just have to talk himself into liking the idea better. Surely he could reshape his outlook, if he worked at it hard enough.

‘I do admire Ellie—and I certainly find her desirable. But I also think it’s time that I moved beyond temporary liaisons and made a permanent choice of companion.’

Could he take Ellie—and then walk away from her? If she were to become his mistress, and they later parted, how could he keep her as a friend?

Though his mother was correct about his tendency to move from one woman to the next, he couldn’t imagine his life without the serene loveliness of Ellie in it.

‘So you’ll just leave Ellie to fend for herself?’ his mother asked, jolting him from his thoughts. ‘Because a woman who isn’t chaste and dutiful deserves whatever she gets?’ she added bitterly.

‘No, of course not,’ he flashed back, stung. ‘How could you accuse me of thinking that? I’ve never treated any of the women with whom I’ve associated with less than courtesy and respect, and you know it! Just because I’m not prepared to make Ellie an offer doesn’t mean I’m not concerned for her well-being. We’re not as close as you and she have become, but I still consider her a friend! You may trust me to make sure she comes to no harm.’

‘And just how do you mean to accomplish that, if she is not under your protection?’

‘We’re friends. I can stop by her school, and visit her at home.’ He gave his mother a smile. ‘It is possible for a man and a woman to be just friends, you know.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe if the man’s a eunuch, or the woman a sour-faced virgin.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘But I shall stop, before you make me cross. Just promise to watch out for Ellie, and I won’t tease you any further. Even though I think your desire to pursue marriage is a mistake.’

‘That’s easy enough to promise.’ Setting aside his teacup, he rose. ‘I must get along as well. But to demonstrate the sincerity of my pledge, I’ll stop by Ellie’s school this very afternoon. Check out her circumstances, make sure that bully boy is providing sufficient protection. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open when I make the rounds of my clubs, too. If someone has disreputable intentions towards her, I’ll put a stop to it.’

His mother opened her lips, then closed them. ‘I’ll not ask again how you think you can do that without staking a claim to the lady. Just know, I shall hold you responsible if anything untoward happens to her.’

‘No more responsible than I’d hold myself,’ he retorted. ‘I watch out for my friends, Mama—even the ones who happen to be female.’

‘See that you do. Now, go on with you. Some dreadfully dull committee meeting awaits, I’m sure.’

Chuckling, Christopher dropped a kiss on his mother’s head and left her.

But despite his intent to focus on finding a wife, the enticing vision of Ellie in his arms was difficult to put out of mind.

Chapter Two

A short while after her visit with Lady Vraux, Ellie Parmenter stepped down from the hackney and approached the modest shop front she’d rented for her school on Dean Street. With space on the ground floor for classrooms, her office, and a storeroom, and bedchambers upstairs for the girls and the matron she’d engaged as chaperone and fellow teacher, it served excellently for its purpose.

‘Afternoon, miss,’ Jensen, her bully-boy protector-cum-butler, said as she entered. ‘The post done arrived. I put it on your desk.’

‘Thank you, Jensen. I’ll see to it directly.’ Nodding to the matron and calling a hello to the girls seated at tables, working on some stitchery, Ellie crossed the space towards the small room she used as an office. Laid out on the desk were several envelopes—that looked very much like bills.

She took a seat and opened them, confirming with a sigh that they were indeed invoices for coal, porridge, thread, and candles. Having gone from her mother’s house to her protector’s, she had little experience of the various and sundry expenses involved in running a household. She kept discovering, to her dismay, how many more of them there were than she’d anticipated.

Pushing away the unpleasant realisation of how quickly she was going through the sum Lord Witlow had invested in the school, she told herself they would manage somehow. After she finished with the bills and checked on the students, she would go out again and purchase some cloth. The two new girls she’d taken in yesterday, both children raised in brothels, needed more suitable clothing. She meant to use Witlow’s funds as prudently as possible, and it would be cheaper to buy the material to make up the gowns.

Besides, Lucy had expressed an interest in learning the dressmaker’s art. With time and training, she could perhaps be found a place with a modiste—especially if Lady Lyndlington gave her a recommendation.

All the wives of Christopher’s closest friends, the Hellions, were uncommonly gracious. After she’d responded to his plea for help and located the girl involved in the plot to discredit Ben Tawny, they’d insisted on having her dine with them so they might thank her personally.

She wouldn’t have admitted it to Christopher, or even to his mother, but she would have been willing to do nearly anything he asked of her.

What an arresting figure he’d made today, the sunlight streaming through the gauze-curtained windows silhouetting his tall, muscled body, shimmering on his dark gold hair and highlighting the sparkle of those deep turquoise eyes!

She chuckled, remembering the quizzical twist of his lip as he protested his mama mocking his intention to marry, even as that aim sent a pang to her heart. His hold on her affections went far deeper than admiration for his handsome face and virile body, or the zing of attraction she felt whenever he came near. She would never forget, nor could she adequately repay him, for the unfailing kindness, sympathy and respect with which he always treated her, especially at the darkest moment of her life.

Just as well that he was set on wedding a proper young miss. Now that she was finally free of her obligation to Summerville, she didn’t intend to become any man’s mistress ever again. That firm resolve, however, might waver—if Christopher were the one offering her carte blanche.

Shaking her head at her foolishness, she told herself she mustn’t even consider becoming more to Christopher Lattimar than a casual friend. It would be too great an irony if she agreed to a disreputable liaison with the one gentleman who’d always treated her like a lady, despite her position.

Besides, even if he should crook his finger and she were not strong enough to refuse him, such a relationship would only be temporary. How could she bear to have the warmth and courtesy he now showed her turn to polite disinterest, or worse yet, disdain, when he tired of her, as men always did of their mistresses?

Naturally, with him showing her kindness and respect at such a low point in her life, she’d fallen immediately into infatuation, seeing him as some sort of Knight in Shining Armour. But she was no longer an innocent eighteen-year-old, wrenched from home, family and all that was familiar and forced into a degrading role.

She smiled wryly. If Christopher could reform the rake, perhaps she could remake the romantic girl she’d been. Put those nostalgic fancies behind her and, now that her life was finally her own, turn herself into a sensible, mature woman. She had a few loyal friends like Felicia and important work in helping destitute young women build better lives to keep her occupied.

Having Christopher marry would end their friendship as effectively as if she were his cast-off mistress, she suddenly realised.

She was struggling to resist the wave of desolation that cruel thought produced when Jensen poked his head in the door. ‘There’s a man to see you, miss. Says he’s from the landlord.’

‘I suppose I shall have to receive him.’ Gathering up the bills and thrusting them into the drawer, she said, ‘Very well, show him in, Jensen.’

A few minutes later, a short, trim gentleman strolled in. After sketching a bow, he said, ‘I’m Wilson, Miss Parmenter, agent for your landlord. Mr Anderson sent me to inform you that, the preliminary portion of your lease being up, as of your next payment, your rent will be going up five pounds a month.’

‘Five pounds a month?’ After rapidly figuring the percentage in her head, she exclaimed, ‘That’s a ridiculously high increase! Besides, the term of the lease was a year. He cannot raise the rent before the end of the term.’

Wilson shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know about that, miss. I just knows he sent me to warn you that he expects the new amount to be paid when next it’s due, lessen he take steps to get you evicted.’

Anger coloured her distress. ‘I’m quite certain that your employer has no legal right to arbitrarily increase the rent.’

‘I suppose you could talk to him, but dunno he’d change his mind. I know the bailiffs won’t listen, if he sets them to throwing you out. Happen it be better if you just pay the increase, like he says.’

‘Happen he is trying to coerce me into paying something I don’t owe,’ she snapped back angrily. The lease didn’t allow for an interim increase—did it? Surely she would have noticed if the landlord were allowed to make such an adjustment.

‘Wouldn’t risk it, were it me, ma’am. Lettin’ all them girls get put out into the street, with no place to go? Up to you, though.’

How could she determine for sure whether or not the threat was genuine? How could she keep the school going, if she had to pay so much higher a rent in addition to all the other bills?

Worry might be tightening her chest, but she didn’t intend for this vile little man to glimpse her agitation. Schooling her face to calm, she rose in dismissal. ‘Very well, you’ve delivered your message. You may tell your employer that I have no intention of increasing my payment, and I very much resent his attempt to extort a higher sum from me. Good day, sir.’

A little smirk on his face, as if he knew she was bluffing, Wilson said, ‘I’d think Mr Anderson’s warning over careful. Hard life for them girls, out on the street.’

With that parting shot, he ambled out.

As if she didn’t know just how hard such a life was, she thought, sinking back into her chair. Opening the bottom desk drawer, she rifled through until she found the copy of her lease.

Full of excitement at beginning the project so dear to her, she’d not paid much attention to the lengthy list of terms and conditions. She scanned it now, trying to make sense out of the stylised legal phrasing.

So absorbed was she in trying to decode the document, she only nodded distractedly when Jensen announced she had a visitor. Until a large masculine hand that did not belong to Jensen planted itself beside hers on the desk.

She looked up then, to see Christopher Lattimar smiling down at her. She sucked in a breath, surprise—and a heated awareness—making her nerves tingle.

‘I might expect such rapt attention being given to a racy novel,’ he said, ‘but some dull legal document?’ Then, as he gazed at her, the teasing smile faded. ‘Something is troubling you, Ellie. What is it? And how can I help?’

There seemed little point in denying she was upset. ‘Yes, I am...disturbed,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s nothing that should concern you. How delightful to see you again! Will you take some tea? And what can I do for you?’

‘I would love some tea,’ he replied, taking the chair she indicated. ‘And nothing in particular. Your enthusiasm when you described your school for Mama made me curious to see it, that’s all. But I do wish you would tell me what’s wrong. Something about that document, I’m guessing?’

As she walked past him to summon Jensen to fetch tea, she debated whether or not to reveal the situation. On the one hand, her problems had nothing to do with him. But on the other, he was a friend, and maybe could offer some advice. She could certainly use some!

‘It’s the lease on the school, Christopher,’ she said as she resumed her seat. ‘My landlord’s agent just stopped by to inform me that my rent is being raised a very considerable degree.’ Uncomfortably aware of the other bills tucked inside the desk, she continued, ‘I don’t think the lease allows it, but I must admit, I’m not sure.’

He took the document from her and scanned it, frowning. ‘Although I work every day crafting legislation, my expertise doesn’t extend to agreements about property,’ he said, handing it back. ‘I agree that the provision on changes doesn’t seem to provide for an increase, but the wording is so vague, but I can’t be sure, either. You ought to get a solicitor’s opinion.’

‘And how much would that cost? Probably more than the increase in rent, which is doubtless what the landlord is counting on!’

The maid of all work came in then, struggling under the weight of a heavy tea tray. Christopher rose and took it from her, setting it down on the desk. ‘Allow me—’

‘Sally,’ she inserted bashfully.

‘Sally. Wouldn’t want such a pretty lady to hurt her back.’

‘Oh, no, sir, I wouldn’t never!’ she breathed, standing motionless as she stared up, wide-eyed, into Christopher’s handsome face.

‘That will be all, Sally,’ Ellie said drily, amused to observe Christopher’s effect on the little maid. Not that she could blame the girl, she thought, suppressing a sigh. Gazing into those turquoise eyes had the same paralysing effect on her, which was why she generally avoided looking directly at him.

‘Yes, miss,’ the girl said, flushing. Dropping a curtsy, she hurried back out.

After several moments spent pouring tea and passing cups, he said, ‘Now, where were we? Discussing a problem with the lease, I think.’

She grimaced. ‘And the fact that, whether I pay the increase demanded or consult a solicitor, it’s going to cost me a good deal of blunt I can ill afford. Or I can ignore it, hope my reading of the text is correct, and trust that Mr Anderson won’t set the bailiffs to tossing my girls into the street.’

Christopher frowned. ‘He threatened that? How...unhandsome of him!’

‘Unhandsome indeed! But it might be a moot point. If I keep incurring so many unexpected expenses, I may be forced to close the school a-anyway,’ she finished, her voice trembling as she confessed her deepest fear—for without the school, what purpose, what future was there for her?

‘We can’t let a shortage of funding affect your enterprise!’ he said bracingly. ‘Why don’t you consult my solicitor? He’s already on retainer. I’d be happy to escort you there.’

She hesitated, grateful, but unwilling to put herself under such an obligation. ‘That’s very generous. But I must warn you, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to pay you back. Lord Witlow set up a generous endowment, which I find I’m having to spend much too quickly, and I hate to approach Lady Maggie, when she’s already been so free with her time and support.’

‘Don’t worry over the repayment,’ Christopher said, with a dismissive wave. ‘Your backers believe in the school, and are committed to its success. They will invest whatever additional amounts are needed—and there’s always my mother. As you may recall, she’s waiting to be touched for a contribution.’

His words were heartening, but she wasn’t sure she dared believe them. ‘I wanted to do this myself, mostly from my own resources. I didn’t want to become a charge on anyone else.’

‘You’re not a charge, and you don’t have to do it alone.’ Leaning closer, he put his hand over hers. ‘You have friends, Ellie. It’s their pleasure to help you—as it was yours, to help Ben Tawny.’

Her composure shaken by the threat to the school, worry over finances and a vague but deep-seated fear for her future, it took only that small gesture to immobilise her completely. She didn’t seem able to move her hand from under the comforting clasp of his fingers. And as she gazed up at him, comfort turned to something more.

With her control so tattered, she was helpless to resist the force of the attraction sweeping over her. Wonder about what it would feel like to have his lips on hers submerged every other thought. An urge seized her to claim just one kiss from this man she admired, a man who cared about her, a man she trusted. Because, for once in her life, she wanted that intimacy as much as his molten gaze told her Christopher did.

His gaze never leaving hers, he leaned closer. Her pulse accelerated like a horse spurred to a gallop, while heat from deep within spiralled outward in melting waves of sensation. A powerful urgency unlike anything she’d ever experienced coiled within, seeming to press her towards...something.

But as she sat motionless, chin raised, awaiting the contact of his mouth, he suddenly stopped. Dragging in a ragged breath, he moved away from her. She took a gulp of air herself, unaware until that moment that she’d been holding her breath.

‘As I said, you have friends, Ellie,’ he repeated, a slight tremor in his voice. ‘I hope I may count myself among them. If it’s convenient for you to visit the solicitor now, I would be pleased to escort you, so you might clear up the question about the lease without delay.’

Squelching an irrational disappointment at being robbed of his touch, she told herself she should rather feel relief. Succumbing to that kiss would threaten the friendly camaraderie they’d always shared. It was disconcerting enough to discover just how powerful a physical hold he could exert when her guard was down. How urgently she’d wanted him to act upon the attraction between them.

And that wouldn’t do at all. Having set his sights on finding a proper young maiden to marry, Christopher didn’t need to be distracted by her. She mustn’t tempt him—or herself—into a relationship that would be wrong for them both.

But oh, how delicious it could be, her senses argued.

Shutting her ears to that insidious voice, she focused on his offer. ‘If you are certain I wouldn’t be imposing, I could leave as soon as I give Mrs Sanders her instructions. I would prefer to discover at once whether or not I must pay the increased rent.’

‘Then instruct away while I finish my tea.’

Chapter Three

Two hours later, Christopher assisted Ellie down the narrow stairs from Mr Worthington’s office, trying not to notice the sizzle sparking from her fingers to his arm, despite the layers of gloves, shirt, and jacket.

He had to ignore it—ignore her allure in general. There was no way he could fulfil his pledge to his mother and keep watch over Ellie without spending time with her. Besides, he enjoyed spending time with her. He’d derived a good deal of satisfaction from having been able to help her today. Somehow, he was going to have to focus only on the warm camaraderie of their friendship—and avoid a repetition of what had almost happened in her office.

His visit to the school was the first time they’d been alone together since Summerville’s death. Doubtless, knowing on some subconscious level that there was no longer any impediment to keep him from acting on his attraction, the desire to kiss her had overcome him before common sense could restrain it. At least he’d retained enough wits to draw back. Forewarned now, he’d be more careful in future.

Still, he was uncomfortably aware both of the strength of that desire and how quickly it had overwhelmed him—in spite of his resolve to focus on finding an innocent maid to marry. Persuading his intellect to follow that wise course was one thing. It appeared that retraining his automatic reactions would be a good deal harder.

He’d just have to manage it. Because if he could not keep himself from succumbing to temptation, he’d have to give Ellie up. And he had no desire to end their friendship until or unless he must.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, he said, ‘Do you feel better, having Worthington confirm that your lease doesn’t permit raising the rent?’

‘I do indeed! I also very much appreciate his offer to send my landlord a letter to that effect. Although, as he suggested, I think it likely Mr Anderson is well aware of the law, and simply thought he could frighten a lone, unprotected woman into paying an additional sum.’

‘A letter from the solicitor will let him know you can’t be victimised in such a manner. You’re neither alone nor unprotected. I would be quite happy to call on Mr Anderson myself and reinforce that truth.’

‘Hopefully that won’t be necessary.’

‘But you promise to let me know if the man, or his agent, give you any more trouble? Truly, it wouldn’t be an imposition. Helping friends is a pleasure.’

As her gaze jerked up towards his, he regretted a choice of words that recalled that moment in her office, reminding them both how much more of a pleasure it had almost been. His body tightened and sweat broke out on his brow as attraction sizzled between them again.

Ellie pulled her gaze free first, shaking her head a little, as if to dispel the enchantment. After preceding him into the street, she waited until he’d reached the pavement beside her to say, ‘I’ll thank you once more, and send you on your way.’

‘I can see you home,’ he offered, not wanting to end his time in her company. Besides, he needed more practice if he was going to master the trick of ignoring the sensual pull between them.

‘That’s kind, but before going home, I need to purchase cloth to make gowns for some of the girls. With the Season soon to begin, the dressmakers and linen drapers are going to be mobbed with customers placing orders. I’d like to obtain what I need before they get too busy to bother with my modest requirements. I wouldn’t want to bore you with such a mundane errand.’

‘I wouldn’t be bored. I’ve often advised ladies on clothing purchases.’

Your mother and sisters—or the women you’ve had in keeping? her enquiring look said.

‘Mama says I have excellent taste,’ he added loftily, and had the satisfaction of seeing her blush.

Looking tempted, as if she too were reluctant to end their interlude, she said, ‘You’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing? I have to admit, it is more...agreeable to walk with an escort. Thereby eliminating most of the blatant looks and rude remarks I would otherwise receive.’

‘I shall happily shield you from both. Although you must allow—and I protest in advance, this isn’t gallantry, merely simple truth—when a lady as lovely as you are walks down the street, men will look at her. Having an escort just makes them think twice about approaching.’

‘Then I thank you for guarding the approaches.’

Realising how perfect a conversational opening that gave him, he said, ‘Are there any other approaches that need guarding? I don’t mean to pry, but Mama is concerned about you, living alone now without protection. She worries that you may be...harassed by gentlemen who refuse to be dissuaded from pursuing you.’ A fear he had to admit he shared.

Her delay in responding and the little frown that flitted across her forehead told him that concern was justified. His protective instincts fully roused, he said quickly, ‘Who is it? Tell me, and I’ll warn them away.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not really troubled by anyone. There have been...enquiries that I’ve turned away with the polite but firm response that I do not intend to accept any offer. Once they discover that I am not trying to pit one against the other in order to drive up the price, I expect they will desist. There are far too many lovely and willing women in London to persist in pursuing one who is not.’

Once a man set his sights on Ellie, he’d be tough to dissuade, Christopher thought. Trying to decide whether he should press harder, or respect her reticence to name names, he said, ‘I hope that is another matter you would bring to my attention, should anyone begin to “trouble” you in truth.’

‘That’s kind of you, Christopher,’ she said, her eyes brightening before the glow faded and she sighed. ‘But I really mustn’t rely on you. I have no right to lay such claims, and as we both know, you need to turn your attentions in a different direction.’

Though that statement only echoed what he’d just been telling himself, he found himself driven to refute it. ‘That may be true, but I have no intention of abandoning my friends. Besides, you’ll be doing me a favour. Should someone try to harass you and I fail to prevent it, my mother would harass me for months.’

That earned him a chuckle, as he’d hoped. ‘Very well, you may accompany me and apply your discerning taste to the choosing of material appropriate for the gowns of apprentice housemaids and seamstresses.’

Chuckling himself, he set off to procure them a hackney. During the transit to Burlington Arcade, he kept up a flow of light banter, pairing together such a ridiculous assortment of buttons with cloth and trimmings with fabrics that he kept Ellie laughing for the length of the transit—earning the satisfaction of seeing the worry fade from her face and the tension ease from her shoulders.

How it delighted him to see her looking more carefree!

A short time later, the hackney set them down and they proceeded past the beadle into the covered shopping street. An array of tempting shops awaited, from jewellers and hatters to dressmakers and dry goods’ dealers. As Ellie had predicted, the walkway was thronged with fashionable ladies, some with wide-eyed maidens in tow, doubtless preparing themselves for the sartorial demands of the upcoming Season. Weaving in and out among them, Ellie proceeded to a linen draper’s shop, Christopher following behind.

They were lucky enough to find one clerk free, though his enthusiasm muted when Ellie waved away the sumptuous fabrics he brought forward and stated her need for simple, unadorned material. After ushering them to the back of the shop, he left them alone to debate the merits of various plain cottons and woollens.

‘I’m quite impressed,’ she told him after she’d made her selection. ‘Although I expected you might have some expertise about the expensive fabrics your mama—or your ladybirds—choose for gowns, I’m surprised you had useful advice about cloth appropriate for servants.’

‘Mama prefers not to delegate the task of acquiring the female staff’s annual allotment of cloth to the housekeeper. Believing it wise to acquaint a son who wouldn’t inherit the wealth of the Vraux estate with the expenses involved in maintaining a household, she’s been dragging me along on those expeditions since I was a boy. Although the sinecures I’ve obtained since joining Parliament give me greater financial security than she anticipated, I’m still grateful for that training.’

‘I wish someone had done as much for me,’ Ellie said ruefully. ‘I’m continually surprised by a variety of expenses I hadn’t anticipated.’

And why had no one ever trained her? he wondered. As Summerville’s mistress, all bills for her household would have been sent to her protector. Was it because she was some peer’s base-born daughter? Blood kin but not family, with no aristocratic mother to give her the instruction in household management she would have received had a conventional marriage been anticipated?

‘Ask my mother. I’m sure she’d be happy to offer advice. Though, despite what Society may think, she’s really a canny household manager.’ As she’d needed to be, with her husband uninterested in any household purchases beyond those for his art collections.

After she’d paid for the material, he collected the paper-wrapped parcel and escorted her out. ‘Back to Hans Place now, or have you other errands to run?’

‘If you can endure one more shop, I need stiffening to line bonnets,’ she said. ‘The place across the way should have what is necessary. I promise to reward you with tea, or something stronger, when we finally reach Hans Place.’

The image of the reward he’d truly enjoy sprang to mind. Clearly, he thought with a sigh as he suppressed it, if he meant to court an innocent, he was going to have to work harder to divert the automatic direction of his thoughts. Or was it only because he was in the presence of a beautiful courtesan that he couldn’t keep his mind from veering towards pleasure?

Former courtesan, he rebuked himself before replying, ‘I’m amenable to one more stop, and a glass of brandy afterward would be quite welcome.’

‘Thank you,’ she said as she led him back into the throng crowding the Bazaar. Stopping before a shop that displayed an array of bonnets, she said, ‘You may not realise this, but I wouldn’t have been given such prompt or courteous treatment in that last shop, had you not accompanied me. Like most of the merchants hereabouts, he knew me as Summerville’s mistress—and knows that since I’m no longer in keeping, I’m unlikely to provide him with such lucrative custom in future. But a man’s wishes always command attention—even if it’s just the purchase of a few yards of cotton.’

‘Then you must include me on all your errands.’

She laughed. ‘Fortunately for you, I’m too sensible to hold you to that offer!’

Though he had thrown out the remark to amuse her, he found it wasn’t really such an exaggeration. With his Parliamentary duties now in a lull, he’d be quite happy to accompany Ellie, enjoying the simple pleasure of her loveliness...titillated by the simmer of desire being near her evoked.

It was certainly a more enjoyable way to spend his time than facing the daunting task of charming some Virtuous Virgin, a species about which he knew almost nothing.

They entered the bonnet shop, Ellie skirting around several clusters of patrons to reach the rack at the back that held hat-making supplies. Then, abruptly, she halted. Her breath escaping in a gasp, she stared towards the opposite corner of the shop, colour draining from her face.

Following the direction of her gaze, he took in a stylishly dressed matron who’d frozen in the process of tying the ribbons of a bonnet beneath the chin of a young lady who must be her daughter—and caught his breath as well.

Hell and damnation! The girl looked like Ellie—or a paler reflection of her. Younger, her hair lighter, her frame smaller, but with similar facial features and the same wonderful deep violet eyes. Before he could gather his rattled thoughts, Ellie brushed past him and almost ran out the door.

He rushed after her, having difficulty keeping her in sight as she darted around knots of shoppers and out of the Bazaar. He had to wait for a group of ladies to pass through the entrance before he was able to exit himself. After looking up and down the street outside, he caught a glimpse of Ellie headed west, towards Green Park, and set out in pursuit.

She didn’t slow until she reached the outer reaches of the park where, finally free from the street traffic that had hampered him, Christopher caught up to her. Her face ashen, her eyes wide and startled, she looked back over her shoulder at him and stumbled.

He caught her and braced her against him as he led her to the nearest bench. ‘What is it, Ellie? What frightened you so? Breathe, now!’

He sat her down and chafed her chilled hands, talking at her to make her focus her vacant gaze on him, all the questions churning in his head submerged as he worked to calm her.

Finally, she took a shuddering breath and attempted a smile. ‘S-sorry,’ she said, her voice unsteady. ‘Running off like some mindless goose. You...saw the ladies I was looking at?’

‘I did. But you needn’t explain anything you don’t want to.’

‘The resemblance is so striking, I suppose much of the story must be evident to anyone with eyes. As I’m sure you already suspect, that...girl was my sister, and that lady, my mother.’

Though Christopher was surprised by the connection, he wasn’t shocked. Given the strong resemblance between the two young women, he’d already figured Ellie must be the girl’s half-sister. It was deplorable, but sadly not all that unusual, for a peer to sire a daughter on the wrong side of the blanket, farm her out somewhere to give her a genteel upbringing, but never acknowledge her. Which would explain both Ellie’s ladylike qualities—and her ending up a viscount’s mistress.

Until he realised the flaw in that explanation. Ellie had identified the girl as her sister—but the lady as her mother.

‘You’re not base-born?’ he exclaimed before he could stop himself.

Infinite sadness in her face, she shook her head. ‘You know me as “Miss Parmenter”—my governess’s name, by the way—but until ten years ago, I was Miss Wanstead of Wanstead Manor in Hampshire.’

Miss Wanstead of Wanstead Manor? So Ellie had been legitimately born a lady? Christopher thought, astounded. Then how under heaven had she ended up Summerville’s mistress?

He looked down at her, her face expressionless as she stared into the distance.

Pain twisted in his chest. He’d long suspected Ellie was either illegitimate, or the offspring of a wealthy cit educated with the daughters of the Upper Ten Thousand at some elite academy. An innocent beauty who’d been beguiled by a seducer or compromised by a man who refused to marry her, stripping her of reputation and respectability.

But to be born a legitimate lady of quality and end up Summerville’s mistress? What an enormous loss of position that had been! No wonder she had that aura of sadness wrapped about her like a cloak.

Though it was far from extraordinary for a family to disown a legitimate daughter who’d been ruined, he couldn’t quell a rising anger at Ellie’s father. No matter what she’d done, how could he have thrown her out to survive on her own, leaving her vulnerable to a man like Summerville?

She looked at him then. ‘You’ve always been so kind to me, despite my...position.’

Simple kindness that had cost him nothing, given to a lady who should never have required it. ‘I can’t even imagine how—why—’ he exploded, goaded into speech by anger and outrage. ‘Sorry, you needn’t explain,’ he said, raising a hand in apology. ‘It’s not my right to question, and I don’t want to pry.’

‘You wonder how I came to be with Summerville,’ she said quietly. ‘I suppose no one else besides your mama has better right to an explanation. Since I might well not have survived the experience, but for you.’

He must have looked as puzzled as he felt, for before he could question that, she continued, ‘You probably don’t even remember the incident, but you...saved me once, from the depths of despair. At a masquerade ball, shortly after Summerville brought me to London.’

‘But I do remember it!’ he exclaimed. ‘Mama had sent me a note, begging me to come and escort her home. While looking for her, I found you, distraught. But—I didn’t do anything! I couldn’t even take you away, much as I would have liked to, for Summerville spotted you while you were helping me locate Mama, and bore you off.’

With a look that said the younger man had better steer clear of the Viscount’s woman. He’d often wondered what might have happened had he been older, and sure enough of himself to have taken up that challenge.

‘On the contrary, you did something—everything—I needed,’ Ellie was saying. ‘Treated me like the lady I’d been born, reminding me of who I was, what I was. What I could in my own mind continue to be, despite my circumstances.’

‘I always knew you were a lady. What...did happen to make Miss Wanstead of Wanstead Manor end up with Summerville?’

‘Papa’s debts. Not all incurred by him, to be fair; the estate was already heavily encumbered when he inherited. Apparently many in Society knew he was dished. Summerville visited Wanstead to talk to Papa about buying some land—and bought me instead.’

It took a moment for Christopher to comprehend that stark statement. ‘You mean your father accepted money from Summerville in exchange for allowing him to take you as his mistress?’ he said slowly, incredulous. ‘That’s...criminal! How could he?’

She shrugged. ‘Papa summoned me to his study, told me he’d been offered one last chance to save the estate, provide my younger sister a dowry, and keep my mother from homelessness and penury. That it was my duty to the family to shoulder the bitter task of making all that happen. Then he left...and Summerville walked in.’

Christopher strangled a curse, curling his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her as her expressive face revealed the absolute bleakness of that moment.

‘I didn’t really understand, at first,’ she said softly. ‘I drifted through the early days of the arrangement in a fog of disbelief, certain I was trapped in a nightmare from which I must awaken. But that night at the masquerade, the first public event I attended as his mistress...the crude comments, the groping hands of his friends as they fondled and kissed me, Summerville looking on, laughing, finally broke through the cloud of abstraction with which I’d been protecting myself from the truth.’

She took a shuddering breath before continuing, ‘I was a viscount’s mistress. No longer a part of polite society, but a denizen of the demi-monde. A harlot. The future I’d always envisaged irretrievably lost. Feeling I must crawl out of my skin in torment, I fled the pawing hands and suggestive comments and took refuge in that anteroom. Where you found me, and asked how you could help. Though there was nothing you could do to put right the terrible wrong of my world, you treated me with such courtesy and gentleness! As if I were still the lady I’d been b-born.’ Her eyes sheened with tears, she continued softly, ‘I truly didn’t know what I might have done that night, had you not given me just enough hope that I would one day escape for me to summon the courage to go on.’

As she told her story, tears had begun to drip down her cheeks. Wiping them away, she sucked in deep, uneven breaths, obviously battling to regain her composure.

His heart aching for the youth and innocence and position in life that had been stolen from her, Christopher had to restrain himself from taking her in his arms. If they hadn’t been in a public park, he would have.

Disordered thoughts and emotions tumbled through his mind as he watched her struggle for control. Fury at the man whose weakness had forced his daughter into sacrificing herself for the family. Contempt for the unbending rules of Society that punished a woman without possibility of redemption for any lapse, whether or not she was responsible for it. The anguish of a man who’d dedicated his professional life to righting wrongs and knew there was nothing he could do to right this one. A sense of shame that, had he not recently taken it into his head to marry, believing Ellie a courtesan who had chosen that profession, he too might have done her the insult of offering carte blanche.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ he murmured, as, with one last shuddering breath, she lifted her face to him.

Swiping away two final tears, she said, ‘No, I’m sorry. I thought I was done long ago with weeping over what cannot be mended. I suppose this unexpected glimpse into a vanished past got past my guard.’ She frowned. ‘My time would be better spent figuring out about what I mean to do about that glimpse.’

‘Do about it?’ he echoed. ‘Why need you do anything?’

‘There could only be one reason for my sister to be in London. She must be—eighteen now! I should have foreseen that, at some point, she might be given a Season. Only recall how strong an impression was made on you, seeing me and my sister in close proximity. Should anyone else see us and note the resemblance, it could ruin Sophie’s debut before it even begins. I shall have to avoid the fashionable shopping areas until the Season is over.’

‘You mean to avoid buying essentials until the family that abandoned you departs from the metropolis?’ he asked, furious on her behalf that she would be so concerned for the welfare of relations who had treated her with callous neglect. ‘Why should you further deprive yourself for their benefit?’

‘None of what happened was Sophie’s fault. Indeed, she was devoted to me.’ Her gaze lost its focus, as if she were looking back through the years. ‘What an enchanting child she was! And what a strikingly attractive young woman she’s grown to be. I’d rather starve than do something that would ruin her chances to make a respectable marriage.’

Before he could remonstrate, she waved a hand. ‘But there’s no need to turn this into a melodrama. Though I should avoid areas where the ton shops, most of my purchases nowadays involve coal or candles or victuals. A young lady embarked on her first Season is hardly likely to frequent establishments that sell those. And if for some reason I should need a new gown or bonnet, I’m sure your mother would be happy to find one for me.’

‘Mama never needs much excuse to look for gowns and bonnets,’ Christopher agreed.

‘Very well, Sophie is in London, but I should be able to stay out of her path.’ She gave her head a little nod, as if finished coming to terms with the shocking development. ‘I think I’m ready to proceed back to Hans Place.’

But as she tried to rise, she swayed, then sank back on to the bench. ‘I seem unaccountably dizzy. Perhaps I should rest a bit longer.’

‘Little wonder, after such a shock! The Gloucester Coffee House is just down the street. With all the coach traffic coming and going, they always have freshly made victuals. Why don’t I get us a flagon of wine and a meat pasty? Some sustenance will revive you.’

She looked up at him gratefully. ‘Thank you. That sounds very appealing.’

‘Very good. You rest here; I’ll be back in a trice.’

With that, after another concerned glance at Ellie, Christopher strode off in the direction of the Gloucester.

Chapter Four

His mind still on Ellie and her shocking revelations, his hands full with a flagon of wine and the meat pasty, Christopher had just exited the Gloucester when some sixth sense alerted him. Stopping abruptly, he turned to see a ragged urchin attempting to slip one thin hand into his jacket pocket, where the change from his purchases jingled.

The urchin pulled his hand free and scuttled backward. Before he could take to his heels, a furious Christopher jammed the pasty into the hand with the flagon and grabbed his arm.

The child struggled, trying to pull away from him. ‘Didn’t mean you no harm, guvn’r! I was jest moseying by. You leave go of me now, woncha?’

‘I’ll be leaving you with the nearest magistrate!’ he snapped back. But the arm twisting in his grasp was so thin, the huge eyes looking up at him under a worn cap so frightened and desperate, Christopher realised there was no way he could turn this child in—to be jailed, transported or hanged.

They were already attracting the notice of passers-by, several patrons of the Gloucester emerging to gawk.

‘Aye, take ’em to the magistrate straight away!’ one cried.

‘Too many thieving scum like him about, preying on their betters,’ said another.

‘You hang on to ’em. We’ll get the landlord to send his boy for the magistrate,’ said a third.

He’d better make away with the child before someone did just that. ‘Thank you, good friends, but I’d rather handle this myself,’ Christopher told them as, tightening his grip on the lad, he dragged him off towards Green Park.

‘Wh-what you meanin’ to do with me?’ the child cried, still twisting to break free.

‘Not call the magistrate—yet. But someone else may, if you don’t stop yelling and fighting me.’

Apparently realising the truth of that, the boy ceased his struggling and began matching his shorter stride to Christopher’s longer one. Perhaps, Christopher thought, he recognised they were headed to the park and figured he’d have a better chance of getting away once they reached it.

He held his tongue, too, remaining silent as Christopher led him towards the bench where Ellie rested. She spotted them as he turned into the park, and watched with puzzled curiosity as he approached with the child in tow.

‘That’s quite a meat pasty you’ve brought me,’ she said as they halted before her.

‘Yes, seems they are serving up a new variety in the vicinity of the Gloucester.’

As he spoke, the child suddenly yanked at his arm and twisted. Had Christopher not been expecting another attempt at escape, the lad might have broken free.

‘Lemme go!’ he shrieked, the pitch of his voice going ever higher as he struggled against Christopher’s hold. ‘You’re thinkin’ to murder me and leave me corpse in them bushes! I didn’t do ye no harm!’

‘Hush, now, nobody’s going to be murdered. Although I might have to go back on that promise if you don’t stop your caterwauling,’ Christopher retorted. As the boy continued yanking away, the much-jostled meat pasty mashed against the wine flagon finally broke apart, one piece falling to the ground. ‘Now you’ve ruined the lady’s meat pie,’ he added in exasperation.

‘So’s you will be turnin’ me in?’ the lad said in a quieter voice. Two tears tracked down his cheeks, leaving light trails through the grime. ‘Kin I have that bit on the ground afore you does?’

Christopher had scarcely begun to nod before the child fell to his knees and grabbed the scrap, stuffing it into his mouth without even attempting to brush off the dirt. While he and Ellie looked on, aghast, he rubbed a grimy thumb carefully over the grass, popping out a few more crumbs he plucked up carefully and devoured.

Ellie’s troubled gaze met his over the child’s head, and he knew he wouldn’t be turning the starving lad over to the law. But what was he to do with him?

Feed him, first. ‘Here, have the rest,’ he said gruffly, easing his grip on the remaining piece of pasty so the boy could pry it free. After a frozen moment, as if not sure he’d heard Christopher correctly, he tore the meat pie from Christopher’s fist and stuffed it whole into his mouth.

‘Thankee, sir, that be right kind,’ the child said when he’d swallowed the last morsel. ‘Guess I’m ready for you to take me in. Might be safer in Newgate, at that.’

A long lock of hair fell from under the lad’s battered hat as he straightened. Christopher glanced over at Ellie, who was studying the child intently, her gaze examining him from hat to tattered shirt, patched jacket and shabby, too-large trousers, to the thin legs and bare feet.

She leaned forward, grasped the child under his arms, and lifted him on to the bench beside her. ‘Heavens, you scarcely weigh anything at all! Why don’t we start with you telling us your name, Miss...?’

Panic flitting across her face before she turned it into a look of bravado, the child wrapped her arms around her chest in a telling gesture. ‘Don’t know whatcha mean, ma’am. It’s Joe. Joe’s me name.’

‘Short for Josephine, perhaps?’

‘A girl? Are you sure?’ Christopher murmured to Ellie.

‘I suspected when I saw the hair. But I knew for certain when I lifted her, and felt those. Look closer.’

Doing as instructed, Christopher discovered what Ellie had spotted—the slight swell of budding breasts beneath the shirt as it rose and fell at the child’s rapid, frightened breaths, along with hands and legs too slender and shapely to be a boy’s. ‘By Heaven, I believe you’re right!’

‘Are you wearing boy’s clothing for protection?’ Ellie asked her. ‘And how did you come to be in this part of the city—alone? It’s well-known the beadles at the Pantheon Bazaar don’t allow beggars to linger—and establishments like the Pulteney and the Gloucester keep a sharp watch out for pickpockets. Besides which, pickpockets generally operate in groups.’

When the girl remained stubbornly silent, Ellie gave Christopher a rueful look. ‘It appears I may have found another candidate for my school.’

To their surprise, at that pronouncement, the girl leapt up and would have raced off, had Christopher not collared her again. ‘Lemme go!’ she shrieked. ‘I ain’t going to no school like that. I’d die first! Was it Gentleman Bob what sent you to the Gloucester?’ she cried, looking accusingly at Christopher. ‘And I thought you was a nob!’

‘Hush, now,’ Ellie soothed. ‘He is a nob, and he has no connection with Gentleman Bob. Nor is the school I run anything like the Schools of Venus operated by Sister Mary or Mrs Pritchard.’

Finding herself unable to break free, the child subsided with a whimper. ‘Please, ma’am, lemme go!’ she pleaded, looking up at Ellie. ‘Me mum’d turn over in her grave if I was to become such.’

Seeing what must be a look of incomprehension on Christopher’s face, Ellie turned to him. ‘Gentleman Bob is the underworld boss who runs the gangs of pickpockets that infest the West End. He also sponsors some of the bawdy houses that specialise in very young girls.’ Disgust coloured her voice. ‘Establishments sometimes known as “Schools of Venus”.’

Turning back to the girl, she said, ‘Did you belong to one of Gentleman Bob’s gangs? And struck out on your own when you got old enough that he thought you’d be more profitable to him in one of the “schools”?’

The girl stood silently for a moment. Finally, brushing the lock of hair from her face again, she said, ‘Me and me brother Joe worked with one of his thieving gangs. Until Joe died last month, and the Gentleman started looking at me funny. Then one day, he run his hands over me chest and...and started rubbing me, there.’ She gestured towards her small breasts. ‘His eyes started glowing, like, while he done it, and he said it were time for me to go to Sister Mary’s. That night, I changed into me brother’s clothes and run off. I came here ’cause, like you say, he keeps his teams away from the fancy hotels and shops hereabouts, on account of the watchers, so I thought I’d be safer. But it’s harder to thieve, too, and the pot boys at the Gloucester kept running me off.’ She heaved a deep sigh. ‘If you ain’t from the Gentleman, fixing to snatch me back, what are you going to do with me?’

Ellie held out her hand, and after some hesitation, the girl gave her hers. ‘My name is Ellie Parmenter,’ she said, shaking it. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss...?’

‘Artis. Artis Gorden. After me da’ went away—he were in the army in India—me mum took in washing, mostly for the theatre folks around Covent Garden. She took my name from one of them theatre signs. Joe was seven and I was six when she died, and we joined up with the Gentleman. Been there ever since.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Artis. And this is Mr Lattimar, a good friend, who is also a Member of Parliament.’

‘Cor!’ the girl breathed. ‘And I tried to pinch your coppers! You coulda had me transported!’

‘As if I would do that to a starving child,’ Christopher murmured, moved with both compassion and outrage for a plight that was all too heartbreakingly common.

Ellie smiled reassuringly at the girl. ‘I used to be in keeping to Lord Summerville—who occasionally joined friends with a taste for that sort of thing on a visit to Sister Mary’s school,’ she explained. ‘During my time with him, I met a lot of girls in the trade. I left the business after Summerville’s death last autumn and started a school for other girls like you, who didn’t want to be pulled into the life. I teach them to read and write and train them for respectable positions as shop girls, seamstresses and housemaids. Would you like to accompany me there? I can offer you a good meal, a bath, and some clean clothes. I promise, no one will harm you and you may leave again straight away if you wish. Though I do hope you will stay.’

Artis stared at Ellie incredulously, as if she didn’t trust what she’d just heard. ‘You’d...take me in? Feed me, learn me my letters, and how to be somethin’ ’sides a pickpocket?’

‘If that’s what you want.’

The girl’s eyes glowed in her thin face. ‘Mum taught me to write my name, and do some sums, but...to read? Do you have books at your school, ma’am, like the ones in the shop windows? With the pretty leather covers and lettering all in gold, looking like treasures waitin’ for someone to open?’

‘Yes, I have books. Primers, for teaching you to read, and leather-bound treasures, too.’

The glow faded a bit as the girl looked down and inspected herself, then looked back up at Ellie, hope and despair warring on her face. ‘Are you sure you want me, ma’am?’

The simple words hit Christopher like a punch to the chest, knocking free a series of devastating images. Escaping his nurse and tracking down his regal father, holding out a treasured rock to the man he’d been told collected treasures, only to have Lord Vraux brush past him without a glance, as if he didn’t exist...being accorded a slight, cold nod on the few occasions the governess was instructed to bring the children down for his inspection...receiving not a single word of farewell from Vraux when he was sent off to Eton.

Do you want me? Could the language contain a more poignant phrase for a love-starved child?

He looked from the girl to see on Ellie’s face the same desolation those words had caused him, and was struck again by her pain.

He, at least, had always known a mother’s love. She had been completely abandoned by all her nearest relations. Cast into a world where ‘do you want me?’ had taken on a wholly different, degrading meaning.

He wished he could wrap his arms around her and hold her until his warmth burned away all memory of that cold-blooded betrayal.

‘Yes, I’m sure I want you,’ Ellie told Artis, gently wiping a tear from the girl’s grimy cheek. ‘I want you very much.’

‘Then...then I’d love to go with you, ma’am! Lemme carry your parcel.’ Looking down at it with an expert eye, Artis said, ‘Cloth from Merriman & Company, in the Bazaar? Bet I could find you some jest as good and heaps cheaper in Petticoat Lane! ’Tis where all the dressmakers round Bond Street get the materials what they sell at ten times the price to the grand Society ladies.’

‘Do you know where to get other household provisions?’ Ellie asked. ‘Coal, candles, soap, needles, thread, flour, tea, salt?’

‘Oh, yes, ma’am. And should you need somethin’ lifted, I could do that, too.’ The girl looked over at Christopher. ‘If’n I hadn’t been so tired and weak today, I’da had them coins from your pocket, and you never the wiser.’

Ellie exchanged a wry look with Christopher before saying, ‘Thank you, Artis, but we would have you display your gratitude in more, um, legitimate ways in future.’

As sympathetic as he was to the girl’s plight, at that reminder of her origins, Christopher caught Ellie’s eye to mouth silently, Are you sure?

At her emphatic shake of the head, he shook his. ‘Very well, then. Dean Street it is.’

* * *

To his amusement, during the transit back to Ellie’s school, Artis kept up a steady chatter, asking Ellie what sorts of supplies she might need in future, and naming off a list of establishments at which she could procure the goods at a bargain price. She was still proclaiming her gratitude after their arrival, as Ellie introduced her to Jensen and had Mrs Sanders bear her off with the promise of a meal, a good wash and clean garments.

Leading Christopher into her office, Ellie said, ‘I’m afraid I have only wine, rather than the stronger spirits I promised. But my thanks for your help today is no less sincere.’

Accepting a glass, Christopher said, ‘You’re very welcome for the assistance with the landlord. I’m not so sure I want to take credit for the urchin. I have a terrible suspicion you may one day find she’s stolen you blind and run off.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘I doubt that. She’s been a thief for certain. But many of us, given a chance to escape doing what enabled us to survive, prefer to take a different path. I think she will, too.’

Christopher shook his head dubiously. ‘I hope you’re right. But after so many years thieving, I suspect she knows as much about conducting herself as a law-abiding citizen as I do about properly courting a Virtuous Virgin.’

‘After spending all your formative years among ladies of the demi-monde?’ she replied tartly. ‘A gentleman’s behaviour towards innocent maids must certainly be quite diff—’ She went silent, her hand with the wine glass halting halfway to her lips. ‘You truly don’t know what to say or how to act around innocent maids?’

‘The only females of that description I’ve ever spent time with are my sisters. Since our conversations generally involve them plaguing me until I feel like giving them a slap, I doubt that experience will prove very useful.’

‘Definitely not,’ she agreed with a chuckle. ‘You must know how grateful I am for your many kindnesses over the years. Artis’s desire to repay my help inspires me to want to repay yours as well. You may find the offer ludicrous, coming from me, which I would totally understand, but... But as you’ve learned today, I used to be just the sort of innocent maid you need to court. If you think it would be helpful, I could school you in what to say, how to behave, the kinds of compliments you can pay and gifts you can offer. Warn you against the sort of remarks and behaviours that must come naturally after your long experience among the demi-monde, but which would be disastrous if directed towards a respectable female.’

Before he could think how to respond, she rushed on, ‘You possess a well-earned reputation as a rake. Having neither a title nor great wealth to offset that drawback puts you at a disadvantage in the search for a suitable bride. The most well-bred and accomplished of the available maids will be pursued by a crowd of admirers, most of them with unsullied reputations. To win the superior lady you desire, your speech and behaviour must convince not just the maidens, but also their sceptical mamas, that you have truly reformed your rake’s ways. I could help you do that.’

‘School me into becoming the sort of gentleman who could win the hand of a Virtuous Virgin?’ he asked, torn between amusement and interest.

‘Exactly,’ she replied. ‘It’s only a matter of altering behaviour and language—as I well know, you already possess a sterling character, else you’d not have treated me with such compassion and kindness all these years. I’d be honoured to repay that debt by helping you find a wife worthy of one of Parliament’s rising leaders.’

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