Page 34 of One Night with a Rake

Even though Georgette really didn’t need two maids, she’d intended on offering Vesta a position. She’d hoped the girl had a gift for styling hair, but Vesta’s own straggly tresses were no recommendation. “Well—”

“Whatever you have in mind, unless you can spare ten quid and sixpence, duchess, you’re no use to me.”

Georgette didn’t carry that kind of money with her. All the merchants her family traded with dealt on credit. Besides, that sum was more than Mercy earned in a year. Of course, her maid also received room, board, and her pick from Georgette’s cast off clothing. She could even sell what she didn’t want on the secondhand market, so Mercy’s true income was higher if one considered more than just her salary.

“I haven’t much money with me,” Georgette admitted, wondering how she’d finagle that sum in ready cash from her father.

When she roamed about London, she made sure Mercy had only enough to cover small incidental purchases and her maid doled out the needed coin. Georgette never actually handled money herself and wouldn’t dream of carrying any on her person.

Certainly not enough to exceed a year’s wages for a semi-trained, slightly insubordinate domestic servant.

“Is ten pounds six what you owe the madam?” Nathaniel’s rich bass came from the open doorway.

Georgette whirled to face him.

“What are you doing here?” He’d obviously followed her. She wasn’t sure whether to be incensed or relieved.

“Same as you. Trying to help.”

Vesta’s gaze turned immediately to Nate and she let her wrapper gape a bit to display more of her ample bosom. “Maybe you’d like a little help from me right back, eh, guv? I can be oh so helpful when a bloke’s as fine as you.”

“A charming offer, but not necessary, thank you.” He kept his gaze riveted on the whore’s face. “I repeat. Will ten quid and sixpence square you with the madam?”

Vesta nodded brusquely, cinching her wrapper closed.

“How did ye ever get so far into dun territory, Vesta?” Mercy placed a hand on her friend’s slim forearm. “I never owed more than two pounds in all my living life. And it was hard enough to scrape together that much to repay.”

“I can’t help it if I like fine things.” Vesta rose and paced around the room, positioning herself so the bed separated her from the rest of them. “Madam always said I’d get better clients if I had better dresses. Silk don’t come cheap, you know. Then there’s the interest. And my meals.”

“Madam Bouchard didn’t charge for food when I was here,” Mercy said.

“She does now,” Vesta said. “And if I want clean sheets once a week, I have to pay the laundress, don’t I? All told, I owe about two shillings more each week.”

It didn’t take an abacus to figure that Vesta was as good as a slave to her employer. She’d never work off the debt on her own. The burden would simply accumulate. Once she was too old for whoring, she’d be turned out or maybe turned over to the magistrate and sent to debtor’s prison.

“If your debt was paid, what would you do? Where would you go?” Nathaniel asked.

Vesta shrugged.

“Surely you have family,” Georgette suggested.

Vesta’s laugh was brittle. “None that’d be glad to see me.”

“Have you any marketable skills?” Georgette asked.

“Plenty of ’em.” Vesta’s smile turned lascivious and she flicked her gaze at Nathaniel. “I’d give him a sample, but Madam don’t allow no free tosses.”

For once, Georgette found herself in complete agreement with the madam.

“What did you have in mind, guv? Are you looking to set up a ladybird of your own? It’d be no hardship tending to the needs of the likes of you.” Vesta slinked across the room toward Nathaniel, earthy sensuality oozing from every pore. “Your friends, too, if you’re the generous sort.”

She lifted a perfectly arched brow at him. “We could have ourselves a time.”

“No doubt,” Nathaniel said. “But that’s not my intent. Sadie’s House of Sirens just across the lane recently came into my possession. The madam there has been evicted and the debts her girls owed have been repaid. I gave them the same choice I now offer you. I’ll square your debt. Go, if you wish. Stay, if you wish. But if you choose to stay at the House of Sirens, you must not sell yourself again. You must remain sober and you will apply yourself to learning a trade so that you will be self-supporting within six months.”

“You mean there’s a room for me at the Sirens?” Vesta cocked her head at him. “And I don’t have to lift my skirts to keep it?”

Nathaniel nodded. “A few of the girls were from the country and have decided to take their chances and go home. There are three open rooms. One is yours, if you want it. Under my terms, of course.”