Yes, things hadn’t changed much since Mama’s confession, but at least now Angeline was aware of all the horrible things Mama had done for her. Guilt bugged her like a noisy fly. For years, she’d enjoyed a happy, carefree life without having the foggiest idea of what Mama did. But Mama didn’t have to keep doing anything. Angeline was an adult. She would work, beg, and do anything to keep Mama out of the clutches of men who wanted to pay to spend a night with her.
A sickening lump crawled into Angeline’s throat. “We’ve been going in circles about your idea of safety many times. We have enough money to leave this life of lies behind.”
“No, we don’t. Why do I need to hire a footman and a coachman for one night? Because we can’t afford to pay them regularly. We’d be broke in a matter of months.”
“I don’t care.” She couldn’t completely remove the frustration from her voice. “We don’t need a footman. We only need a place to live and food. I can work.”
Besides, being aware that everything she owned— from the gown she was wearing to her umbrella —came from Mama’s illegal money was a constant burden.
“Twaddle.” Mama scoffed. “How do you think I lasted this long in this business? I never demand huge sums for my silence when I blackmail my prey. If I didn’t do that, they would turn against me. Instead, I’m never greedy. I ask for an affordable payment, nothing that would be too conspicuous. The downside is that I must keep going, and I’m not getting any younger. And if you think it’s easy for a woman to find a proper job, think again. I tried and failed.”
“I don’t want to spend my life like that.” She sounded ungrateful.
Her mama had made unthinkable sacrifices to stay alive. Angeline had received a good education and had always enjoyed the freedom to do whatever she wanted, from learning to use the bow to riding and attending concerts. But the path Mama offered was a miserable one.
Mama continued. “As I said, trust me. My poly potion really works. When the moment comes, Mr. North will believe he had a tumble with you.”
“No.” She was growing tired of saying it.
“At least talk and meet him. Who knows? You might like him. Don’t humiliate me by refusing to even talk to him.” Mama opened the door. “We’re ready,” she said to the footman.
No, Angeline wasn’t.
