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“Would you work with us again?” Clara asked. “I could be your liaison with the Society. You would be well compensated, of course.”
“I am not exactly a spinster.”
“We send out spinsters because they are overlooked, but we have other avenues.”
Selene smiled, a genuine smile that showed her slightly crooked eyetooth and the lines at the corners of her mouth. “I would love that.”
“I’m so glad. May I visit you at your…house?”
“The brothel. You can say it.”
“Very well, the brothel.” Despite the stories Clara wrote, she had been taught by both her family and Society at large to never say such words aloud or even admit their existence. No brothels or molly houses or mistresses. But Selene had more honor and kindness than most of the ton.
“Certainly. We have a private entrance, of course, but also one saved especially for women.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I plan to expand.” Selene winked. “I look forward to taking your money.”
“Excellent. I look forward to a tour.”
“So wicked, Lady Clara. It’s what I like best about you.”
Clara grinned. “I’ll be in touch. Excuse me, I have a matter to deal with.”
“I’d rather deal with your matter upstairs.”
“So would I,” Clara muttered. Selene’s bright laughter followed her out of the dower house. She crossed the lawn, and the late morning light was incongruously lovely on a house that looked like it was made of cake and sugar frosting but had harbored such darkness.
The house party and Devil’s Night were being dismantled, endless trays of glassware being carted down to the scullery for washing. Maids swept; footmen carried furniture back where it belonged. Proper footmen. The marquis’s thugs were nowhere to be seen.
Kitty was in her corner, packing up the last of her books into trunks. When she looked up and spotted Clara, she froze.
And promptly burst into tears.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, before Clara could even open her mouth on an accusation. She clutched the books in her hands so tightly her knuckles were white.
“You were the blackmailer,” Clara said quietly. Her stomach sank at the confirmation.
Kitty nodded miserably, her freckles stark against her pale skin. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
“I won’t pay you.”
“I know. I wouldn’t pay me either.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I never meant… I panicked. My sister… Well, never mind. It doesn’t excuse what I did. Only know I was trying to help my sister.”
“By scaring me and threatening me.”
“I never threatened you!” Kitty made a face. “Not exactly. And you’re never scared of anything.”
Clara stared at her. “Are you mad? You sent notes to my house. And here! I was terrified.”
“You told me you left directions with your publishers. I invented a bookshop crisis. But I never even went to the fountain,” Kitty rushed to add. “You have to believe me. I never would have gone through with it.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because I can’t think why you would assume I have five thousand pounds.” The amount was still staggering.
