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“Of course. I’ll let Max know.”
“No, I will send him the invitation. You are strangers, remember. Do you think he will refuse?”
“He can hardly refuse me, not after he promised to help. And by then he should be well enough to travel the short distance to the club. Especially,” Marietta’s mouth turned down, “as it doesn’t look as if he’ll be exerting himself much when he gets here.” It would be Marietta who would be doing all the work.
“That is settled then,” Aphrodite said, ignoring her daughter’s expression, and rising to her feet with a rustle of silk and lace.
It was a dismissal, and obediently Marietta stood up, too. “Thank you, Aphrodite. I will try to…that is, I will do as you say.”
“Of course you will,” Aphrodite agreed. Then she hesitated.
Marietta looked at her expectantly.
“My child, I do not know how to say thi
s…You have never asked me about your father, who he is, where he is? Vivianna was eager for such information, but you…you do not seem to want to know.”
Marietta felt a little chill inside her and knew it for what it was—fear. “I do not need to meet him, Madame,” she said quietly. “I am content with you and my sisters. I am sure I would be a disappointment to him.”
Aphrodite gave a fierce frown. “That is nonsense! A disappointment, psht! You are a daughter to be proud of, and so he will be. I will not have such talk, do you hear me?”
Marietta had never seen her mother so angry. “I did not mean—”
“He is in town.”
She stopped, confused. “You mean my father is here, in London?”
Aphrodite nodded. “I have seen him. I can call upon him, if you wish, and ask if he will see you. Of course, it is entirely up to you.” She shrugged huffily, and Marietta bit her lip on a smile, but her humor was brief.
Her father. Now a desperate sense of longing had joined the fear. The need to see this man, to look into his eyes and see herself there. It was true she had never asked about him, and she could not say that she had craved this moment, but now that the offer had been made…Marietta knew she would not be able to just walk away and forget it.
“Marietta?”
She looked up at her mother, and there was something in the courtesan’s gaze, an uncertainty that Marietta had never seen there before. As if she thought Marietta would refuse and throw the offer back in her face. Impulsively, Marietta reached out and hugged her. “Thank you! I would love to meet my father.”
And Aphrodite’s eyes shone with tears for the second time, as she held her daughter in her arms.
Dobson’s big blunt fingers were gently rubbing the muscles in Aphrodite’s shoulders, loosening the tension and with it any aches and pains from the long night of making herself agreeable to her guests. It was a talent, to keep smiling even when her body was crying out for rest. Now she closed her eyes and groaned her appreciation. “You have the best of hands, Jemmy. Did I ever tell you so?”
“Frequently, my love, but you can never say it too often.”
Aphrodite smiled and bowed her head to give him access to her neck. She thought about her meeting with Marietta earlier, and her smile broadened. The girl had been pleased enough with the new task Aphrodite had set her, but she had been dismayed by the rules. They went so very much against the grain of her character. Aphrodite had almost laughed out loud at the expression on her face. Still, there was no doubt that she would try to accomplish this task, just as she had the previous one. And she would probably manage to do it, too.
Marietta may well be destined to become a courtesan, but Aphrodite doubted it. Her daughters were strong-willed women, yes, who sought to take their own paths through life, but they were also romantics, and romantics followed their own hearts. A courtesan could not afford to be a romantic, to fall in love—as Aphrodite knew to her cost.
Surely it was better Marietta learned her mistake now than suffer heartbreak later on, when she might be trapped into a situation where it was impossible—indeed, dangerous—to follow her heart. Aphrodite had only ever wanted her daughters to be happy, and that had not changed.
Some people, she knew, might consider her advice to Marietta to be morally questionable, but Aphrodite had no time for the borders and boundaries drawn up by a respectable society to which she had never belonged. It was Marietta who mattered to her—her security and her well-being. The fact that she had already been damaged socially made it easier for her to have an affair, to learn beneath the safety of Aphrodite’s wing the pitfalls of living life among the demi monde. In her opinion the girl should be allowed to enjoy herself with Max Valland, however briefly, if in the process it helped her understand that being a courtesan was not for her. Sharing herself with many men, keeping her heart removed and cold, no, no! The more Aphrodite understood her daughter the more set against the courtesan idea she became, but of course she would not tell Marietta that. She must not risk losing her daughter’s confidences.
“You are far away,” Jemmy murmured.
“I was thinking of Marietta and Max. Marietta says that Max has had many accidents, more than is usual for the son of a duke.”
But Jemmy was ahead of her. “I thought there was something odd about the way Lord Roseby was knocked down. I’ve been asking around and there’re whispers it was no botched robbery. Someone was paid to do the job on him, and paid well.”
“I don’t understand. How could Max being dead matter when he is already disinherited?”
Jemmy smiled. “Just because a father is hurt and angry with his son now don’t mean he’ll stay angry.”
