Better yet, she would beinvisible. She could stand an arm’s length from any given lord or lady without her presence registering in their minds at all. There could not be a better vantage point from which to conduct her research.
Then she would go back to Cheapside and open her masquerade club for the common folk once Sampson was in a position to be a founding investor. What had he said—six months? That was more than enough time to have every aspect of the Duke of Lambley’s weekly masquerades memorized.
Unity grinned to herself. She was close now. Her assembly rooms wouldn’t just be the joy of Cheapside. They’d be her future. The permanence she’d sought all her life. The income with which to secure it. The respect she’d longed for.
And it would behers.
The moment her club was profitable enough to repay her debt to Sampson, she would do so. After that, no more partners. She wouldn’t need one. Unity was perfectly capable on her own. Yes, yes, all of her friends pestered her about when she planned to get married.
After she’d proven herself and secured her own future, she’d consider the idea. But not until that day... and perhaps never at all.
Once she was financially secure and fully independent, why bother ruining a good thing by taking a husband? If she wanted to share her bed from time to time, well, there were less permanent ways to find pleasure than giving up her freedom for a man.
She smoothed her spotless apron and knocked briskly at the servant’s entrance.
At once, a wigged footman opened the door. Unity frowned. She had been expecting a maid. Had this tall young man in blue-and-gold livery been stationed at the servants’ entrance like a butler? Or had he just been passing by?
She gave him her brightest smile. “May I speak to the housekeeper please? I’m here to enquire about a post.”
“There are no open posts,” the footman answered.
Unity blinked. No open posts? In a house of this size? There was always room for a maid to take over for this or that person who was ill or incompetent.
She kept her smile in place. “If I could just speak to Mrs...”
The footman arched a brow. “Do you have a card?”
Did she have a—no, she did not have a card! She wagered this sanctimonious footman didn’t have a bloody card either. What sort of maid wandered about printing calling cards that cost more than her monthly wages?
She hesitated.Didrich people have rich servants?MightJane in the scullery have a crisp stack of embossed cards reading, “Jane, Scullery”? Was Unity completely out of her depth?
“I am sorry to have wasted your time,” she said tightly and turned away with a bit more flounce than was truly necessary.
Was this a house or a military compound? Surely there wassomeway to get inside.
Second round: Lambley.
But these were still opening moves. He had not won yet. She was still learning her opponent. Every man had his weakness.
All she had to do was find it.
* * *
It took three days—andthe aid of Rhoda, Mabel, and Gladys—to put together the pieces of her plan.
On Friday afternoon, she stepped out of a hackney and onto the duke’s pristine cobblestone street adorned in a stunning, low-cut crimson gown that would not have looked out of place in an Italian opera.
Possibly because it was part of the lead soprano’s wardrobe.
The sweeping, clinging satin and silk were also the sort of materials one might expect to find draped seductively about one of the many voluptuous demimondaines who plied their trade off stage and during intermissions.
She was through with proper comportment and attempts at honest labor. Her friends claimed all men were the same, and that the quickest way to their heart was by displaying one’s cleavage.
Unity didn’t want the duke’s cold, frivolous heart. She wanted one evening on the other side of this bloody door for a single, solitary masquerade.
This had to work.
The white-haired butler opened the front door and stared. Not at Unity’s face—which she’d altered slightly with cosmetics—but at her bosom, which was more outside of her bodice than in.
