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An hour later, he departed her house with a promise to send his man of business around on the morrow to settle her into a proper situation or until she could ply her wares elsewhere.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed as he crawled into his waiting carriage. “What has the lady done to me? I absolutely cannot marry her, and Miss Everley, most assuredly, would never agree to be my mistress, not that I would offer her such a position. As odd as it may sound to say the words aloud, I respect her too much to degrade her with such a proposition.”
******
With lacklustre energy, Colleen climbed the stairs toward her quarters. She was bone-tired; hopefully, she would finally know sleep. Since actually taking Lord Harlow’s acquaintance, she had felt off-kilter. She had told herself that her fascination with the gentleman was steeped in her fond memories of that brief encounter, all those years removed.
Generally, an afternoon spent at the Ever Rising Home satisfied her. Colleen was exceedingly proud of the ‘orphanage’ she had crafted out of nothing. Originally, she had used her funds to staff a small, but successful orphanage, one designed for children born out of wedlock. She kept two women on full time and three others came in several days a week for cleaning and laundry. The facility was clean, and, despite it being in a less savoury area of town, several well-respected families had sent a variety of clients to her. She had placed close to forty children in homes of families who had been unsuccessful in having children of their own. Mostly, the children had been placed with tradespeople, but a few had gone to those within society, who she assumed would retreat from London for a period of time and return later with a child of which there had been no previous hint of its existence. Other than questions of whether the couples could afford to provide for the child and assurances that none would be abused, she did not question any couple’s motives for adoption.
From that original model, a second home had been founded, one that addressed the lives of women of the muslin sect who were forced to abandon their children in order to remain in the trade. She had originally offered a few of them a different option: a home, food, and clothing while they delivered the child and a placement in another line of work afterwards. The children were guaranteed an apprenticeship once they were old enough to perform the duties of a particular trade and were taught a bit of reading and writing as they grew. Currently, there were two dozen former prostitutes who called the Ever Rising Home their residence. She had avoided the word ‘charity’ to indicate that the women were no longer lost and were on their way up in society. When each lady of the evening had borne a child, that child was also housed at the Home. Unlike some charities which accepted the children born to these women as waifs and examples of the ‘sin of the flesh’, at Colleen’s ‘home’, the women were treated for any diseases and provided training which would hopefully lead to gainful employment, not ‘on their backs’.
Unfortunately, on this particular day, even with the ‘show’ of progress on the part of her staff and those seeking solace within the walls of the Ever-Rising Home, she had returned to her town house as depressed as she had been when she departed earlier in the day.
“You permitted yourself a glimpse of what could have been if your father and mother had not taken such a risky step in their relationship. Although you would not have been Lord Harlow’s equal, you would have been a ‘gentleman’s’ daughter in the truest sense of the word — have been a part of Society and no longer a castoff.”
She could not explain how deeply she yearned for what could have been.
Colleen had always been able to convince herself that she did not care what the rest of the world thought of her. Now, she was no longer certain that she would ever know satisfaction in her life. She had worked hard to protect her heart — to build barriers that kept out all who attempted to assail ‘the walls’.
“Yet, I have deluded myself. A smile, a lifted brow of interest, and a simple touch of his hand on my back in a protective gesture have done me in. Those barriers have been brushed away as if they were made of silk. What am I to do now?”
Chapter Five
Colleen still did not feel like keeping company with anyone, especially not Lionel Dostoff, but Lord Liverpool had sent his plans for the possible recovery of the necklace, and so, she had sent not sent her apologies to Dostoff saying he would call upon her for their walk in Hyde Park. Instead, when he called upon her, she had greeted the man with a smile of welcome, although her heart said otherwise.
“You appear more than a bit pensive, my dear,” Mr. Dostoff said as they strolled together along one of the less used paths of the park.
“I am just spent. After leaving your establishment, I did not sleep until the following night. I spent my day at the Ever-Rising Home.”
“I admire the program you have established. It takes a special type of woman to give to those who are less fortunate than she, even accepting women others would shun without a second look at them. Hopefully, someday, your idea will become the model for charities assisting the downtrodden. If you wish to expand it, I would be willing to speak to a variety of possible investors in your behalf. Many among the ton are willing to purchase the moniker of being charitable by placing their money in the hands of those willing to do the work for them.”
“That would be truly spectacular, sir. I can only accommodate two dozen women with children at a time. As each woman must remain with me for a minimum of six months or until she can be placed in suitable employment, my numbers remain constant, but our waiting list grows exponentially. As quickly as one is placed into a more proper environment, another is at the door to claim the empty space. It would be good for all if we had more than one facility available.”
Mr. Dostoff patted the back of her hand.
“I will speak to my parents. They are known for their charitable work. If they lead, others will follow.”
Colleen had never asked the question she had wondered upon since she had taken Mr. Dostoff’s acquaintance.
“Do your parents sanction the role you play for the British government?”
“My father is aware of the sacrifices I make for our great nation, and, although he cannot openly congratulate me, he has refused to turn me out, as many would have done in similar circumstances. My mother is not one to keep secrets, so my father and I have not explained it all to her. She simply loves me as a mother should, even with my so-called faults.”
“Then you are blessed,” she said softly, attempting to disguise how much she wished that her parents had made different choices. Colleen realised he wished to ask of her parents; therefore, she quickly changed the subject. “As we are to appear together this evening, we should discuss how best to proceed.”
“Naturally,” he said, lowering his voice. “We are to attend an at-home betting parlour.”
“I thought they were illegal,” she said innocently.
“They are,” he verified. “There has been a variety of legislation over the last fifty years or so against gaming hells such as the Red Hawk, as well as the more luxurious establishments; yet, enforcement is sporadic, at best. Several Society widows have chosen to open their homes a few times each month to those wishing to play faro, hazard, quinze-et-la-va, basset, and trente-et-la-va. Although some openly criticise such practices, Lady Jenest ignores the naysayers.”
“Lady Jenest?” Colleen gasped. “Lord Harlow’s former mistress?”
Although she would never admit the facts to others, Colleen knew something of each of Harlow’s mistresses, including his current one: Susana Wisley, a former opera singer, who had caught his lordship’s eye a year or so back.
“You are familiar with Lady Jenest?” Mr. Dostoff asked.
“Only what the newsprints provided,” she confessed.
