Despite her stunning good looks, Charlotte herself did not entertain clients, although she received no shortage of offers. Anya had never asked how she’d ended up as one of London’s greatest procuresses, but from a few things Charlotte had let slip, she’d deduced that an unfortunate incident with a duplicitous fiancéhad set her on the path to what most people would regard as ruination. There was, and never had been, a Mr. Haye.
Charlotte, in turn, had never pried into Anya’s past, although Anya had no doubt that she was burning with curiosity. Anya had introduced herself as “Anna Brown,” and Charlotte had never questioned it.
Anya’s feelings on the world’s oldest profession were mixed. There was no doubt that the young women who lived with Charlotte were well cared for. Charlotte protected them like a mother hen, scooping them off the streets and settling them in the house whenever she had a vacancy. She provided them with their own room, food, and clothing, not to mention contraception and regular visits from the doctor. She personally vetted any gentleman who wished to visit “her girls,” and encouraged the women to only accept the “jobs” they fancied, and refuse the rest. Being selective only added to their appeal.
Anya had never heard any of the women complain about their life—indeed, most seemed grateful that Charlotte had saved them from destitution, violence,and starvation on the streets—but Anya was sure many of them would prefer an alternative means of earning a living if it were offered to them. One afternoon, over tea and cakes with Charlotte, Anya had suggested that the girls might benefit from learning skills that would aid them in leaving a life of prostitution if they wished. Charlotte had agreed, and that was how, on the evenings Anya wasn’t with the dowager duchess, she’d begun to teach them to read, write, and solve basic arithmetic.
“You’ll have to use the front parlor this evening.” Charlotte’s distinctive, throaty voice was entirely unfeigned. “I’m having the study repapered. I’ll tell Winslow to direct any visitors to the red salon. You shouldn’t be disturbed.”
Anya nodded and made her way to the front of the house to find her charges. She stepped into the room in time to hear Tess say, “Well, that’s a right load of old bollocks, Jen.”
“It is more polite to say, ‘I’m afraid I disagree with your assessment, Jenny,’” Anya said dryly.
Tess’s sweet, freckled face turned pink in embarrassment, and the two girls dropped into hasty curtseys, talking all the while. “Oh, Miss Anna, I’m so sorry. I ’ad no idea you was there.”
“It’s quite all right, Tess. I’ve heard far worse. But still, do consider modifying your language. As a milliner’s assistant, you’ll need to be polite to the customers.”
Anya had to hide a smile at the irony of chidinganyoneon their vocabulary. Elizaveta still frowned at her in private for “profanities unbecoming a princess.” Her English had certainly expanded to include an impressive number of curse words during their months in Covent Garden.
Jenny went over to the desk in one corner, and Anya gestured to Tess to open the book of fairy tales from which she’d been learning to read. “Tess, you read, and Jenny, you write down what she says.”
Both girls nodded obediently.
“Little… Red… Ri—ding… Hood,” Tess said slowly, her finger following the words as she went along. Anya sent her an encouraging smile.
“Excellent, Tess! Keep going.”
“Once… up—on… a… time—”
The door opened. Anya glanced up, expecting to see Charlotte with a tea tray, but instead, a man she’d never seen before appeared in the doorway, and for one ridiculous moment, she thought Tess had summoned the wolf from the storybook.
He was tall and lean, with a lithe vitality that made the very air vibrate. His skin was tanned, his hair a black windblown mass around his face. His dark eyes swept the room and settled on Anya, and for the first time in her entire life, she lost her train of thought on account of a man.
He stilled, his hand resting on the doorknob, and his mouth curved into a smile that made her flash hot and cold at once.
“Good evening, ladies. I’m sorry to interrupt. I was looking for Mrs. Haye.”
Something odd fluttered in Anya’s stomach. His voice was like sandpaper and velvet.
Jenny and Tess jumped to their feet, rushed forward, and stopped a few inches away from him, both of them talking at once.
“Mrs. ’Aye is in the back parlor, my lord,” Jenny said breathlessly.
Tess sent him a shamelessly provocative glance. “It’s a pleasure to see you ’ere, my lord. Is there something I can ’elp you with?”
Jenny batted her eyelashes. “Or me?”
But the man’s gaze was still fixed on Anya. Heat rose in her cheeks at his boldly appraising scrutiny. She pressed her lips into a disapproving line.
His features had a Mediterranean look, all dark sophistication, a corsair masquerading as a gentleman. She’d never seen anyone so uncompromisingly handsome. What was a man likethisdoing in a brothel? Surely he could get any woman he wanted with the crook of his finger?
A nervous sensation coiled in her belly. The thought of him doing things—the kind of things a man did with a woman in a brothel—made her feel quite hot and bothered. Still, shecertainlywasn’t going to be the one who provided whatever service he’d come here for. No matter how ridiculously good looking he was.
She cleared her throat, intending to excuse herself, but the gentleman spoke first, sending a charming smile that somehow conveyed sincere regret to the two women in front of him.
“Would you two ladies mind going to fetch her for me?”
Tess and Jenny both sagged in disappointment at the subtle dismissal. Tess shot a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder at Anya. “We’ll all go,” she said, clearly trying to save Anya from being left alone with the visitor.
