“We’d like to take a look around all the same,” the countess persisted, apparently feeling the same sense of treachery.
“If you are looking for entertainment, then by all means, my doors are open to you, but I can’t allow you to just roam about and distress my customers, even for you Charlotte.” Phryne smiled thinly. “I’m sure you understand.”
“No, I don’t think you—”
The countess fell silent as Hunter put a hand on her arm. “Thank you for your time. I’m sure Miss Welton will return shortly.”
The madam inclined her head, and the door shut.
“What are you doing?” Charlotte hissed. “I know that Persephone is still inside there.” She pointed at the brick building accusingly.
“As do I,” Hunter returned. “But we aren’t going to help her by standing there and arguing. I have another idea. Come on.”
Reluctantly, he led her back to the coach.
***
Sephy put her hand to the second-story window as tears coursed down her cheeks. She had just glimpsed Hunter and Charlotte as they entered her carriage and drove off. Her heart plummeted, for any chance she had of rescue left with that conveyance.
Darkness was starting to fall and she knew that Lord Gregory’s arrival was imminent, but either way, grief had replaced any fear she might have been feeling, for she knew that if she spent the night with such an evil man she couldn’t go back to Hunter. Even if he would have her, her conscience wouldn’t allow it. This was the same monster who had assaulted his elder sister. Knowing that she was another victim of Lord Gregory’s lewdness would be nothing more than a constant reminder of how Louisa continued to suffer and how he had failed Persephone.
She refused to put him through such pain a second time.
Sephy returned to the bed and sat down. A glance at the dressing table mirror showed that she was a mess. Her hair was in bedraggled disarray about her shoulders and streaks of moisture lined her face, but she didn’t even care. Perhaps she would get lucky and Lord Gregory would take one look at her and decide he didn’t want her after all, ending this ridiculous ruse before it even began.
The sound of a key in the lock didn’t even cause her to turn around, nor her mother’s voice that followed. “Your duke is more enamored of you than I imagined, but I don’t think we’ll have any more interruption from him this evening.”
Sephy didn’t even reply.
“Come now.” Phryne moved to stand in front of her. “You mustn’t look so melancholy when Lord Gregory arrives. Don’t you remember my teachings that you must cater to a man’s pride in order to win him over?”
She crossed her arms and glared at her mother. “You seem to forget that I’m not here of my own accord.”
“That may be,” the madam agreed. “But things will likely go easier on you if you encourage his attentions.”
“At this point, I could care less what he does to me. I’ll be condemned when this is all over either way, so why not boast a daring souvenir for my troubles?”
The hard smack to her cheek was unexpected. It was the first time her mother had ever struck her. “You ungrateful chit! I’ve seen that you had a proper protector for the past five years. The least you can do is offer some recompense in return for this easy life you’ve been enjoying.” She swept toward the door as regal as any queen of her domain. “Now do what you’ve been brought up to do. See that you don’t fail me, for it won’t only be Lord Gregory’s wrath that you’ll be facing!”
The door slammed shut, the lock turning with finality.
Sephy sat there with her hand on her smarting cheek and wondered if her mother wasn’t right after all. She saw Hunter leave, so perhaps he’d already decided he was through with her. She was a harlot, after all, born to live a harlot’s life, and endure a harlot’s hardships. She had been given a reprieve all these years, so perhaps it was time that she succumbed to her fate. She wasn’t any better than the girls who worked for her mother. The only problem was that she’d allowed her heart to become engaged to a man who could never be hers. Granted, she might have let the fantasy overtake her for a time, actually believing that he might love her too, but Hunter was a duke and she was a woman with a past littered with scandal. She’d been fooling herself all this time thinking that he might actually marry her. The fairytale might have worked for someone like the Countess of Virsage, a courtesan by choice, but still had a touch of blue blood running through her veins. Sephy was just the bastard daughter of a harlot and a faceless man she’d never even met. If there was any noble blood running through her veins, she would never know it.
Standing, Sephy wiped at her face and sat down at the dressing table. She picked up the powder and began to apply the makeup to her face with a shaking hand.
It was time to live the role in life that she was meant to play.
Chapter Eight
“Falcourt? What the devil—?”
“I need your help,” Hunter returned curtly as he interrupted the high stakes card game Viscount Darwood was in. “But we have to hurry. I’ll explain in the carriage.”
“This better be good,” his friend grumbled as he reluctantly stood up and threw his cards on the table. As he gathered his cloak from the servant at the front door, he added, “You owe me fifteen pounds, by the way.”
At the moment Hunter didn’t really care. He was just glad his instinct kept proving him right. He thought he might find Darwood at White’s, just as he could feel
