“How was your day?” he blurted.
She patted her mouth with her serviette and stared at him.
He could see her mental headshake at how long it took him to produce that weak of a conversation sally.
Nevertheless, she answered. “Also productive, thank you. I wrote several letters to friends of mine who have left London. You recall how letters work, do you not?”
He rolled his eyes. “Weak, Bel—Isabella.”
“I enjoyed it.” She shrugged with a grin.
A sudden thought occurred that was the perfect topic of conversation. Perhaps he might learn from her success. “Tell me about how you became a courtesan? Please?”
Chapter Eleven
Belle took amoment to consider whether she wanted to answer Luke’s question.
He hadn’t earned the right to know her story. Hell, he’d been a nuisance since she’d brought him home.
But he’d worked in her garden all day and was rather charming when sober.
Her story might also help him clarify his future. “The Earl” needed a stern talking-to, as far as she was concerned. What father shipped his son away from all he held dear when the boy was reeling from the death of his mother? For all she’d defended him to Luke, she was angry on the younger Luke’s behalf.
He was still watching her, head tilted as he waited for her to respond.
“My childhood had some similarities to yours, believe it or not.”
His brows climbed his forehead.
“My parents worked long hours every day of the week to ensure we could pay our rent and eat. Sometimes we only had one meal a day, and sometimes that was broth and bread. My older sister and I managed the household chores as best we could. That was different, I’m sure, but it was like yours in thatthere was no time for affection. If I skinned an elbow or cut a finger, she helped patch me up, and vice versa, but no one dried tears or dispensed hugs. One learned quickly that crying did not get you anywhere, so why bother.”
“What did your parents do?”
“My father worked in a factory, and my mother worked as a seamstress for a dressmaker. She brought work home in the summer and worked long into the night, but in the winter, the cost of candles was prohibitive.”
“Where are they now?”
“Gone.” Her voice was flat. She had long since come to terms with their loss. After all, those focused on survival were fatalistic about it all. “I call it death by poverty, but the physicians likely have some fancy name like premature aging.”
“And your sister?”
Her sister was another story, and a second one she debated about sharing. “My sister married a man from the neighborhood, another working man. Likely to get out of the house. He seemed nice enough but occasionally drank too much. When he drank, he got nasty.”
Luke winced, guessing where this was going.
“Working like that wears you down. He started drinking more often. Sometimes, he’d pick a fight and hit her.”
“How much older is she?”
“Three years.” She shook her head, remembering how young and naïve she’d been. “After the first few times, I begged her to run away with me. We’d find work together; we’d protect each other. But he was always so sweet afterwards, begging her forgiveness.”
“Ah,” Luke said in response to the sharp glance she shot him. “I begin to see.”
“Eventually, when he’d knocked her unconscious and done something to her arm that made it hard for her to use it, Icouldn’t stand it. I walked until I could not walk any farther. And I found myself outside a theatre. I slipped in the side door and met some of the cast and crew. One actress let me stay in her dressing room during the performance. In retrospect, I am amazed. I could have robbed her blind.”
“Did you spend time on the stage then?”
“No. After the show, a few gentlemen came backstage for their favorite cast members, either to woo a new showgirl or take a current paramour out on the town. Two of them approached me. The actress took me aside and told me to sleep there that night, but not to roam or she’d lose her job. The next day, she explained to me what they wanted and how much they’d pay for it.”
