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Smiling, Lucia walked up the street to the corner of Water and Front. As if she were stepping back in time she approached the Hare of the Hat tavern and the women who loitered at the door.
Lucia walked up to the woman closest to her, the one wearing a pink silk chemise, her thin shoulders bared, her small breasts spilling out over the garment that would have been more appropriate beneath a dress, had she been wearing one. She appeared to be close to forty years old but could have been as young as twenty; it was hard to tell under the mop of tangled hair.
The woman looked Lucia up and down and spat a stream of chewing tobacco. “Can I ’elp ya, mum?”
Two women behind her cackled. Another stared, but didn’t seem to see the well-dressed lady standing before her or hear her cohorts.
“Perhaps.” Lucia moved closer to inspect the other women, taking care not to step in the stream of tobacco juice on the wooden walk. The one with the vacant stare was out of the question. Lucia knew that stare—the woman was too far gone. The other two women were possibilities, but she liked the redhead immediately.
“Ya lookin’ fer yerself or yer man?” The redhead stepped closer, squeezing her arms together to display the pink of her areolas.
“Myself.”
The prostitutes behind her snickered.
“I ain’t usually one fer the laddies,” she said. “Cost ya extra.”
“What’s your name?” Lucia studied the woman’s brown eyes. It was the eyes that reflected a person’s soul.
“Whatcha want it ta be?”
“Come, come, I haven’t time to waste with nonsense,” Lucia said. “Tell me your name.”
She gave Lucia the best sultry look she could manage. “What the boys calls me, or what ya can call me?”
Lucia ignored the continued laughter. “What your mother called you, dove. Come now.” She reached out and took the whore’s hand between her gloved ones, meeting her gaze.
The redhead stared for a moment, and then spoke, the bravado sudden gone from her voice. “Avena,” she whispered, sounding forlorn. “Avena Croft.”
“Avena, what a lovely name.”
“Been a long time since someone call me that,” she said, looking down at the grimy walk.
Lucia smiled. “Would you like a job?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “A real job, as a lady’s maid to me and two young ladies.”
Avena stared. “I…I ain’t no laddie’s maid, mum. I’m a ho’.”
Lucia smiled, not the least bit offended. “But you can learn, can’t you, Avena?” She brushed a lock of dirty hair from the girl’s face. Now Lucia could see that she was young, midtwenties, probably. “And I bet you clean up nice. A decent gown and bodice, a hot bath, some food to put a little meat on these bones.” Lucia reached out and eased a strap of the chemise back up on Avena’s shoulder.
“Ya ain’t serious, mum?”
“Completely.” Lucia took a step back and looked up and down the street. Avena’s companions had moved down a few steps to talk to some sailors in sailcloth shirts, oilcloth bags thrown over their shoulders. “I’ve need of a lady’s maid, but our household is a bit unconventional.”
“I…I could learn, mum.”
“I bet you can.” She turned and indicated the waiting hackney. “So, shall we go?”
“Aye, mum.” Avena hurried after her.
“Don’t you want to say goodbye to your friends,” Lucia asked over her shoulder.
“Nah. They ain’t my friends no how, mum.”
“I’m certain she’ll be back directly, Mr. Stowe.” Sapphire smiled, settling on the settee across from the balding, middle-aged barrister. “I really can’t say what’s taking her so long.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right. I still have a bit of time.” “And you say she was expecting you?” “Well, yes…and no.” He glanced up anxiously. “I…She was expecting me on Sunday afternoon, but when I went by Lord and Lady Carlisle’s as she requested—”
“Oh heavens,” she sighed, clasping her hands, finishing his sentence for him. “We were already gone.”
