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“You’ve been discussing it with Madame Chambon?”
“And the other girls. We thought it would be best to bring you here without the benefit of the information we’ve just imparted to you.” Rosetta smiled comfortably.
“Hugo will help me,” Charity muttered under her voice and with a defiant look. “He knows I’m coming here tonight and he won’t let anything bad happen to me.”
Rosetta rolled her eyes. “We left a note at Madame’s to say you were elsewhere. Please don’t look so upset but he had the potential to ruin everything.”
Charity stared up at the two girls and then at the swarming, terrifying room before her. She caught an interested look or two from some of the male contingent and quickly looked away as heat burned her cheeks.
In a few days Hugo was sailing away. She knew that when he finally disappeared out of sight it might well be the last time she’d ever see him again. And for all his fevered attempts at securing her future, the money and promises he’d put in place would not last for long.
What choice did she have? She simply had to take her chances tonight.
“You might need this, Charity.” Rosetta dug in her reticule and handed what Charity at first thought to be a lace handkerchief before she felt something hard beneath.
“Put it straight into your pocket and only use it if occasion demands,” her friend said, lowering her voice and appearing to remove a piece of lint from her shoulder as she moved her head closer. “It’s a pair of dice, loaded to favour a four and a five. As I said, Emily and I will be handling the gambling, if called upon but, in a place like this, one never knows what might happen. Nor would anyone believe someone as sweet and innocent looking as you capable of underhand tactics.”
Charity stared about the room, mostly populated by men so that she and the few other finely dressed women stood out as the demimondaine.
In the dim light, they seemed to move in and out of focus; one moment dressed in dark suits, the next in wolf’s clothing.
Indeed, they were wolves who would converge on her when she was without a protector. The accusations of childlike innocence with which Emily and Rosetta charged her were true. Her guileless mother had taught her nothing of life. Not that Charity had spent much time with her mother since she’d worked for as long as she could remember to look after her mother’s imbecile older sister. That had, she supposed, been some small use for an illegitimate child who could not be acknowledged by the family. And, after that aunt had died — without ever having addressed Charity by name — Charity had found herself on a coach to London, to make her own way in the world following her mother’s funeral.
The only people who had ever been kind to her were Madame Chambon and the girls.
And Hugo.
She bowed her head for a second, then brought up her chin. “So tonight will be a test of my abilities. I have no idea what will be required of me and I’m certain I won’t succeed in ferreting out any useful information. But if I can help Hugo in any small way, and ensure that his own future is not blighted forever, I will.”
“Oh, look,” said Emily, pointing. “Mr Adams is coming this way.”
Chapter 5
The knowledge of how much he needed to achieve in such a short time hung heavily on Hugo’s shoulders as he turned his footsteps towards Soho.
At any other time, he would have stopped to wonder at the miracle wrought by a blanketing of pristine snow upon a poor neighbourhood, turning it into a wonderland of beauty and promise.
He might have felt uplifted by the carollers on the street corner praising the Lord their Saviour in pure, joyful voices.
But the familiar words of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen brought pain not comfort to Hugo’s ears as he bowed his head and trudged past them.
Fear not, then said the angel,
Let nothing you affright,
This day is born a Savior,
Of virtue, power, and might;
Hugo was all too aware that he should have been able to comfort Charity with such sentiments, reassuring her that he would be her saviour, a man of virtue, power, and might.
Instead, he was going to have to explain to her that the best he’d managed was to find her a position as a photographer’s assistant. And then, suspicious of the man’s motives in wanting a young and pretty assistant, he’d turned down the job offer.
It seemed that every moment since his disastrous evening with Cyril he’d been on the back foot trying to salvage something from the wreckage of his life.
He’d tried so hard to find some respectable employment that would make it easier for Charity to be accepted as his wife upon his twenty-fifth birthday but it seemed word had got around. No family member or friend of any female relative had need of a companion let alone a governess. It was as if they all knew his little secret and had closed ranks against him.
Nearby, a ladder-man was pasting advertisements to a hoarding. Pausing to cross the road, Hugo looked up at the posters of electric corsets and others advertising miracle cures for chilblains and scrofula. The young woman with her hour-glass figure proclaiming the healthful effects of her combinations reminded him of Charity with her long, chestnut tresses and peaches and cream complexion and he was struck by the most intense desire to run all the way to the dreadful house where she lived and commit to memory the feel of her curves as he buried his face in her fragrant hair.
