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If I can somehow arrange to become truly compromised by a gentleman…
But hope’s flame guttered after only the briefest flare. It would never work. No man would offer her marriage under the current circumstances, not even after having taken her maidenhead. Despite her innocence, he’d deny it to save himself from the scandal of marrying a woman of questionable virtue, and then she’d truly be branded a harlot. A strumpet. A—
Courtesan.
A prickly, unpleasant sensation crept across Diana’s scalp and slowly marched down her back. Now there was an option that would provide a comfortable life, for all that it would be a life of sin. That she’d even think of taking such a course showed the depths to which she’d already sunk.
Yet some courtesans become mistresses, and some mistresses eventually become wives. What if she agreed to become a gentleman’s lover tonight? And what if he then fell in love with her? As for returning the tender sentiment, she had no intention of it. Her heart wouldn’t be part of the bargain. Love was unreliable. People always broke your heart. Like her parents when they’d died. Like her aunt when she’d turned her back on her own kin. Like the fiancé who’d claimed to love her, only to betray her with her supposed-best friend.
Better to keep one’s heart to oneself than let it be torn apart.
She looked at the rose gown again. It was an enormous risk. If her first mark did not fall hopelessly in love with her and marry her, she would indeed have to become a courtesan in truth.
Can I bring myself to do such a thing?
A gleam of gold and a spark of reflected light caught her eye as she turned away. Her mother’s jewels lay on the vanity, ready for her to wear tonight. Bolingbroke might be willing to let her take furniture and clothing, but her jewels might be another matter entirely. Those, he could say, belonged to her mother’s sister—his wife.
She shook her head to clear it. Focus on the task at hand! If Bolingbroke decided to take them, there would be nothing she could do about it. Unless I wear them out tonight and never return. If this worked, she would send for her other things and hope he failed to remember them. She picked up her mother’s diamond necklace, feeling the cool weight of it in her palm.
Mama. Had she lived, none of this would have happened. She would’ve been presented two years ago and already be safely married.
As Diana clutched the jewels, a strange peace came over her, along with renewed resolve. Bolingbroke couldn’t take them before she wore them one last time, at least. When she was done, provided all went according to the half-formed and completely mad plan taking shape in her mind, London’s gossips would be telling another story entirely, one that would take the malicious lies that had ruined her and turn them on the very people who’d betrayed her.
Laying the necklace back down, she went and took the pink gown from the wardrobe and laid it across her bed. Next, she rummaged in her sewing basket and took out her embroidery scissors. With its lace-embellished bosom and a fichu, the pink gown was a very modest affair. Without those affects, however…
Her hands paused over the delicate lace, and she marked how they shook. Can I really do this? Can I deliberately set my feet on such an unsavory path? So much could go wrong. But the prospect of a slow decline into abject poverty loomed ahead if she didn’t take this final opportunity. Never again would she be received on her own by Polite Society.
Taking a deep breath, she began to carefully take out the tiny stitches securing the lace to the neckline.
Anything was preferable to starvation.
Chapter Two
London, 1812
Lucas tossed his cards on the table and excused himself. Far more interesting than the game was the hushed confrontation going on between Lords Brampton and Harrow on the other side of the room. Rising, he went to the hearth under the pretense of fetching a rush to light his pipe. The men stood nearly nose to nose, anger clear in every taut line of their bodies. But where Brampton was red-faced and clearly enraged, Harrow appeared utterly unmoved by emotion.
“If that is your desire, then so be it,” he heard Harrow say calmly. “Dawn?”
“Dawn,” sneered the other man. “Better tell that pretty little whore of yours to prepare to find herself a new patron,” he threw in as Harrow turned away. “Perhaps I’ll take her myself and show her what it feels like to have a real man between her legs.”
Harrow’s back stiffened, and he turned back around, a hard, dangerous look in his dark eyes. “That is the second time you’ve referred to Lady Diana in a less than courteous manner. If you wish to live tomorrow, I would advise you to curb your tongue.”
The other man let out an ugly laugh. “Lady Diana,” he snorted. “I don’t know many ladies willing to t—”
“I promised that lady I’d merely nick you,” Harrow cut in so softly Lucas almost didn’t hear him. “She was kind enough to ask me to spare your life for the sake of your wife and children. Don’t make me disappoint her.”
All the color drained from Brampton’s face.
Harrow’s mouth twitched up at one corner. “I’ll see you at dawn.”
All eyes followed as Harrow turned his back on the man and left the room. The silence was tangible, everyone waiting to see his opponent’s reaction, but Brampton merely slumped down into a chair and sullenly called for more wine. Conversations resumed around the room, though at a more subdued level than before.
Lucas joined his friend, Westing, who’d also abandoned the card table. “What was that about?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
Westing chuckled. “By George, man. I thought everyone knew.”
“I’ve been away,” Lucas reminded him. “Or have you forgotten?”
