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‘I think that would be very nice for you.’ Morgana smiled. She watched Mr O’Brien escort his daughter to the two-storey gazebo, from where the orchestra played high above the crowd. ‘Rose’s father. Imagine that.’
‘Gainfully employed, as well,’ Sloane added. ‘What the devil is she doing in your courtesan school?’
His scold seemed to be over, and he seemed more her friend again. It made her want to dance the night away with him.
‘I was wondering the very same thing.’ She took a breath to steady herself. ‘I should go back to the supper box.’
He took her arm more cordially than before. ‘That puts me of a mind to tell you that the gentleman cosying up to Penny is no man you should know.’
That puffy man with the exaggerated manners? Morgana could see no harm in him. She gave Sloane a saucy glance. ‘Oh, is he scandalous? As scandalous as you?’
He dipped down to her ear. ‘You have no idea how scandalous I can be.’ His voice was low and his breath on her skin warm.
She swallowed.
They passed under the arch near the supper box. Mary rushed up to them, Robert Duprey at her side. ‘Miss Hart! Miss Hart!’
Morgana was about to beg her to stop calling out her name, when Mary cried, ‘Lucy has run off!’
‘What?’ Morgana stopped.
Mary saw Sloane and gave a quick curtsy. ‘Good evening, sir.’
Duprey nodded. ‘Oddest thing. Standing happy as you please. Calls out, “He’s here!”, then takes off.’
Mary added, ‘Mr Elliot ran after her, but we thought we should find you right away. Or at least that is the advice Mr Duprey gave, which I thought was excellent.’
‘Elliot?’ exclaimed Sloane. ‘What the devil is he doing here?’
Morgana held up her hand to silence him. ‘Where did she go?’
‘Ran down the Dark Walk. Worst place. Dangerous,’ Duprey responded.
Lucy had been doing so well. She’d even seemed happy sometimes, blossoming, like her garden. Morgana could not bear it if someone had frightened her.
She turned to Sloane. ‘Will you take me to look for them? I dare not go alone.’
Sloane hesitated only a moment. ‘Come along.’
The Dark Walk was not totally without light, but the lamps were fewer and dark alcoves and small private rooms were dotted along the path. Some sounds of revelry could be heard from the shadows, and Morgana was glad Sloane was at her side.
‘I wonder if she saw the man from Hyde Park,’ Morgana said. ‘I cannot think anyone else would frighten her so. She wore a mask, for goodness’ sake. He would not have known her.’
‘I recognised you,’ Sloane reminded her.
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But only after Katy made her silly comment.’
He stopped her for a moment and made her face him. ‘Morgana, when will you realise that you cannot truly hide behind a mask or a hat with netting? If you are where you should not be, it is always possible for someone to discover it.’
She averted her eyes. She knew he spoke the truth. She had come to accept the likelihood of ruining herself over the courtesan school.
He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face back to his. ‘You greatly risk your reputation with activities such as this. Already your name has been called out.’
‘By you, as well,’ she protested.
He nodded, but it only brought his face closer. ‘I am sorry for it,’ he murmured, his voice as soft as the orchestra’s music drifting in from the distance. ‘Forgive me.’
She lifted her face to his, remembering how easy it had been to stretch just a little farther and taste his lips.
The sound of giggles reached them, and Sloane pulled her aside so that they were shuttered by the bushes. A young couple walked by laughing and kissing. Morgana was shocked to see the lady was Athenia Poltrop and her companion Morgana’s cousin Varney.
Sloane recognised them as well. ‘Well, at least now I know what she and Hannah were whispering about.’
Recalling Hannah always returned Morgana to her senses. ‘You must need to return to your party.’
He wrapped his arm around her back and squeezed her against his side. ‘Let us find Lucy first.’
They walked all the way to the hermitage before they found her. Lucy, racked with sobs, sat on a bench with Mr Elliot holding and rocking her.
‘Lucy.’ Morgana wanted to rush to her, but Mr Elliot shook his head. ‘What is it, Mr Elliot? What has happened to her? Has someone hurt her?’
She felt Sloane stiffen beside her, felt him as ready as she to fly to Lucy’s defence.
Elliot’s expression was pained. He turned to Lucy. ‘Shall I tell them?’
Lucy gave them a miserable glance and nodded to Elliot, who did not release her from the circle of his arms.
‘She’s been hurt, all right, but it was a long time ago…’
In his precise, methodical voice, Elliot explained what Lucy had shared with him a little at a time in their quiet talks together pulling weeds and planting seeds. Lucy had been seduced at the shocking age of fourteen. The man next door, a family friend, seduced her and gave her to think it was her fault, that she’d been the one to entice him. The man found time for her often, Elliot went on, and Lucy in her naïveté came to believe it meant he loved her. He gave her money and other presents.
‘But right before you hired her, Miss Hart, something else happened.’ Lucy buried her face against Elliot’s chest. ‘This man took her to a place with two other men. They all had their way with her, and the men paid her for it. A few days later, the man took her to be with other men. She protested this time and he laughed at her, telling her to simply enjoy herself. He told her she was nothing but a common harlot. So Lucy believed that was what she must be.’
‘Oh, Lucy!’ Morgana felt tears sting her eyes. She knelt beside the girl, who fell into her arms. ‘How very awful for you.’
‘I was startin’ to think maybe I wasn’t all bad.’ Lucy managed between shuddering sobs. ‘Your lessons—Madame Bisou’s and Miss Moore’s—you tell us all the time that we are worth somethin’ no matter what, that we deserve nice things. I was startin’ to believe it, but I saw him, and I remembered…’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Who was it?’ Sloane’s voice cut through the night like sharpened steel.
Lucy looked up at him, and her sobbing stopped. ‘His name is Mr Castle. He has the button shop next to my father’s hosiery.’
‘Where?’ Sloane said in the same honed voice.
‘Cheapside,’ she answered. ‘Milk Street.’
He nodded, still thin-lipped.
Morgana rose to her feet, her eyes on Sloane, sensing the danger rising in him. It filled her with dread.
Elliot spoke up. ‘I’ll bring her back in a bit, when she’s a little calmer.’ He gave Morgana a direct gaze. ‘You can trust her to me.’
Morgana had no doubt she could. Lucy was in very good hands indeed. ‘Well, we shall go then. I’ll tell the others she was scared for a moment, but you talked her out of it, reminding her of the mask.’
He nodded agreement.
As soon as she and Sloane were out of earshot, Morgana asked, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Do?’ He stared straight ahead, but his voice still held that timbre of violence.
‘About the man who molested Lucy.’
He did not answer.
‘Are you going to kill him?’
He met her eye. ‘You think me capable of such a thing?’
She did not look away. ‘Yes.’ She could easily imagine him able to kill a man.
His eyes narrowed. ‘It does not shock you?’
‘No.’ A wild part of her wanted to kill the man herself for the wrong he’d done to Lucy. She dared not examine that part too closely. ‘Will you do it?’ Her voice came out all breathless.
He stared at her a long time ‘No.’ He took her arm suddenly and said, ‘Come with me.’
Instead of returning her to the supper box, he led her to one of the small restaurants along the colonnade, selecting a small table in the corner where they were relatively private. He ordered them both a glass of wine. She felt unreasonably happy to be in his company.
‘I must speak with you, Morgana.’ Sloane’s tone of voice did not mirror Morgana’s gaiety, however. ‘Does this not prove to you the dangerousness of this escapade? Suppose that man had recognised Lucy? What might have happened then?’
She avoided his eyes. ‘But he did not see her, any more than Miss Poltrop or Varney saw us.’
He waved aside her comment. ‘What if I had not been with you? Would you have run down the Dark Walk yourself, searching for Lucy?’
The server brought the wine and Morgana waited until the man left. ‘I would have made Mary and Mr Duprey come with me.’
‘No, you would not. You would have gone by yourself. You are reckless, Morgana.’ He took a sip of wine before saying more. ‘You do not perceive how easily one’s reputation can be ruined. This business of yours already risks too much.’
She flashed her eyes. ‘It is too late to scold me for this! It is done and I will not fail those girls now.’ Morgana fought a wave of nausea. Was teaching Lucy, Katy, Rose and Mary to pander themselves so different than that man pandering Lucy?
‘Give it up,’ Sloane commanded.
She gazed at him, hoping he could not see the pain in her eyes. ‘How can I?’
He did not answer but looked away, drinking his wine. Morgana felt the bitter sting of failure, the loss of his friendship, the shattering of her secret dreams. The only thing worse would be for him to realise that she herself knew how thoroughly she’d mismanaged everything.
She placed her glass on the table and made herself look defiant. ‘Do you know that I envy them? I envy those girls. They will not be constrained by conventional behaviour. They will be able to do as they wish!’
She captured his attention, because his eyes flashed at her. ‘They will have constraints of a different kind.’
She secretly agreed, but could not stop herself from going on. ‘You are one to talk, Sloane. You have known the freedom of doing whatever you wish. My cousin Varney told me of it. It seems to me your choice to re-enter society is more mystifying than my desire to break its chains.’
A muscle in his cheek flexed. ‘Being on the outside is not necessarily being free, Morgana.’
She took another sip of her wine, her brief effort at defiance merely leading her to inadvertently wound him. Her misery returned.
He plucked another sensitive nerve. ‘Do you not wish to be married, Morgana?’
She gave him a pained expression. ‘Do you?’
He averted his gaze. ‘I do. It is a respectable thing to do.’
With effort, she refrained from rolling her eyes. Though he would not look at her, she stared at him, deciding to answer his question truthfully.
‘I have long accepted that no man would want a woman such as me. And I dare say I would chafe at the binds a husband would place on me.’ His eyes darted back to her. ‘But what I cannot understand is why anyone would give up their freedom so readily. I fail to see why respectability has such value to you.’
He reached over and took her hand, the tenderness in the gesture startling her. ‘It is because I have been on the other side. It is why I worry for you, Morgana.’
Nothing was resolved between them, not really, but the warmth in his expression was enough to push her misery aside. She smiled at him. ‘Oh, let us not quarrel, Sloane! Not in this place. The night is so fine.’
The music from the orchestra sounded in her ears, mixing with shouts of revelry. The lights twinkled and the scent of food, spirits, and people filled the air. The orchestra began a new tune and a high, crystalline voice carried in the crisp night air:
Stay not till I learn the way;
How to fib and how betray,
E’er I can my thoughts disguise.
‘Listen,’ Morgana cried.
The voice went on.
Force a blush or roll my eyes.
Take me, take me, some of you,
While I yet am young and true.
‘It is Rose!’ She jumped up from the chair, still holding his hand. ‘Hurry.’
They pushed their way through to where the orchestra played. Rose, without her mask, stood in front of the musicians, as if she had been their featured songstress. Her voice carried in the air distinct, sweet and sultry at turns.
Could I find a blooming youth,
Full of love and full of truth,
Of honest mind and noble mien.
‘Is she not lovely!’ Morgana felt a surge of pride, as if she had created this beautiful creature whose wonderful voice cast its spell over the now quiet crowd.
