Page 44 of A Much Maligned Miss

She took a deep breath. “My lord, if I accept your offer, can I be assured you will make some long-term provision for me once you no longer require my services?” She twisted her hands together, her cheeks filling with color. “I know you do not have any money to settle on me at the moment,” she said quickly, “and indeed it is hardly to be wondered at when one considers how much you must have sunk into this business venture. But after you have made a success of The Citadel, I mean.”

She bit her lip. “I will admit, I do not know much about being a…a kept woman,” she said in a rush, “but my understanding is that they sink lower and lower over time, hopping from one patron to another, as their keepers grow increasingly obscure until they finally lose their attractions altogether and end up in extreme poverty.” She sucked in a much-needed breath. “I would like to avoid that fate, if at all possible.” She looked so bloody sincere that Gervaise did not know how to reply.

He cleared his throat. “I am sure none could blame you,” he replied gravely while his brain scrambled for a response. He opened his mouth to ask just how big a lump sum she envisaged but instead found himself asking carefully, “You see yourself moving on from me to another…keeper?” Why did that stick in his craw so damn much he couldn’t even bring himself to consider the money angle?

“Well…I…I understand that is how it generally works,” she said, turning even redder. “And, I do not have any other skills to fall back on.” Other skills, thought Gervaise. Other skills? “I have no notion how else I could support myself in the future,” she carried on, quite oblivious to his reaction.

“Obviously I could never return to my family. Oh, not that I would want to anyway,” she assured him hurriedly, reaching across to touch his arm. He glanced down at his sleeve, but she was already withdrawing her hand. “But if you settled some money on me on the occasion of your abandonment, then I could perhaps train in some profession, or else have the time to sort myself out…” She shrugged helplessly.

By taking another keeper, Gervaise thought, looking at her rather hard. It struck him with sudden unpleasant clarity that she would not struggle to find one. “I see,” he said slowly, noticing her expectant air. He had no notion what the fuck else to say. She had well and truly knocked him for six. He reached for his cigarette case to buy himself some time.

“Do you want some time to think it over?” she offered generously. “I will understand perfectly if so. I could sleep out here in this armchair with a blanket over my legs tonight and—”

“No,” he interrupted her. “No time is necessary. I will of course settle a sum on you in the event of our inevitable parting of ways. Such a request is entirely reasonable. How does four thousand pounds sound?”

Caroline gasped. “Four—?” She stared at him, her lips parted.

“A sum worth losing your virtue for, I hope.”

“Yes, my lord,” she spluttered. “I rather think it is.”

18

“Is the first floor really going to be a gentleman’s club?” Caroline asked, climbing into the freshly made bed. Gervaise had remained in the sitting room while she had undressed, banking the fire. She had managed to wash using the cracked wash jug and bowl, and to don her cotton nightgown before he had joined her in the bedroom.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well…it’s just the look you gave Mr. Carstairs. I mean Ralph,” she corrected herself as she leaned forward to hug her knees.

Gervaise was removing his cuff links and placing them on the dresser. “What look?” he asked, unfastening his collar.

“Like you didn’t want him to tell me,” she answered promptly. Romulus sprang up on the bed beside her while Remus still lounged in front of the small fireplace.

“It wasn’t that,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Ralph just has rather a tactless way of putting things sometimes. I didn’t want him to shock you. A pointless scruple it now turns out, for you, Miss Halperston, are rather hard to shock.”

“Do you think so?” The notion pleased her. “For a moment I wondered if it might be a house of ill repute and you were trying to spare my feelings.”

“A house of ill repute?” he echoed, turning at the waist to give her a considering look. “Don’t you think there would need to be rather less tables and a good deal more beds for that to be the case?”

“Yes, I suppose there would,” she admitted. “I did say it was only for a moment. Doubtless it was the paintings that led my thoughts astray. Are they always like that in gentleman’s clubs?”

“Like what?”

“So many nudes, I mean.”

“Such things are not confined to gentleman’s clubs. You have visited Vance Park and must have noticed Jeremy’s collection of naked Venuses.”

“Well, yes, that is true,” she conceded. “But that is classical art, is it not?”

He shot her a slanting look. “You believe that Ralph’s artist with his digs in Marylebone is not a true artist?”

“Well, I meant compared to the likes of the old masters,” she said guiltily. “Did I sound very snobby? I did not mean to. In fact, I am very much looking forward to meeting Mr. Bailey tomorrow.”

“Are you?” He did not sound particularly pleased to hear that. “Why?”

Caroline averted her eyes, lying down on the mattress, for he was now down to his underclothing. It felt wrong to see Lord Atherton stripped down to his smalls. He was always so impeccably dressed. “Because I have never met an artist before,” she said aloud. Was it her imagination or was Gervaise a little irritable?

She watched as he donned an exotic-looking banyan of pale green silk. “What a gorgeous wrapper,” she exclaimed, sitting back up to get a closer look.