Sara Bennett

by Lessons in Seduction

  “No one has called on him, then?” he asked aloud.

  “No one as shouldn’t, yer lordship.”

  Oliver had asked Sergeant Ackroyd not to call him that, but the man had ignored him. He seemed to gain some sort of pleasure from saying it, or maybe it was just the fact he was hobnobbing with a peer of the realm.

  “Well, keep watching. I am about to set a small test for our friend. I want to see how he reacts.”

  “I’ll keep me eyes peeled, yer lordship, don’t worry.”

  Oliver nodded, and left him there. Sergeant Ackroyd would do his job, now Oliver had to do his.

  Aphrodite’s was sober by daylight; more like a boy’s grammar school than a disorderly house. Vivianna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and considered her options. The hackney cab had gone—she had sent it away, afraid that if she didn’t she would change her mind and turn craven at the last moment.

  This was no time for second thoughts and doubts. If she was to sway Oliver to her will, she must use every weapon she possessed, but she must understand the game first.

  With a deep breath, Vivianna climbed the steps to the door beneath the portico and gave it a resounding rat-a-tat-tat. The echo reverberated within, and in moments heavy footsteps approached.

  The doorman peered out at her. His battered face looked tired, his graying hair was not so neat, the neckcloth at his throat was untied and dangling, and his coat was plain black. But his gray eyes were sharp, and they narrowed in recognition.

  “Oh, ’tis you,” he said, and swung open the door, though he remained in the way, blocking her entrance with his broad-shouldered form. “What do you want now?”

  “I want to see Madame.”

  “You want to see Madame?” He appeared amused rather than surprised. “What do you want to see her for? She don’t take no respectable women here, only the unrespectable ones.” And he smirked at his own wit.

  Vivianna refused to be intimidated. “I don’t want to work here,” she retorted, “I just want to speak with her. Now let me in.”

  He eyed her a moment more, his eyes sparkling with humor, and then with a shrug he stepped back. Pretending that her nerves were not stretched to their very limit, Vivianna followed him inside.

  Polished wood shone richly; there was a strong scent of roses from a Chinese vase upon a pedestal. The sound of a piano being played drifted down the staircase. The doorman continued to observe her, as if her reactions were a source of fascination to him. He was beginning to annoy her.

  “This ain’t any old academy,” he informed her with an air of pride. “Miss Aphrodite runs a superior establishment. Not any old riffraff are allowed in here, only gentlemen, and only those who got the class and the blunt. Plenty so-called ‘gentlemen’ call themselves gentlemen and ain’t. Miss Aphrodite, she’s a real lady herself, and she knows what makes a real gentleman. She were famous in her day, she were. A famous courtesan.” He drew it out as if it were three words. “She had earls and dukes visiting her every day of the week, she did. A Frenchie, a prince it was, gave her a chateau just for spending one night with him. Miss Aphrodite, she’s a great lady.”

  “Dobson!”

  He froze, his battered face comical in dismay, and turned around. Vivianna also turned toward the voice.

  Madame—or Miss Aphrodite, as Dobson had called her—was standing in the gallery above, dressed in another simple but very elegant black gown, her hair arranged in soft ringlets about her face and drawn into an intricate knot on top. Jewelry—a gold and emerald and topaz necklace—circled her throat, and her fingers flashed with precious stones. As she descended the stairs with a rustle of silken petticoats, Vivianna wondered whether the display of wealth upon her person was a reminder of her past glory.

  “Miss Greentree? I did not expect to see you here again. Have you come for your cloak? Surely you could have sent a servant for such a trifling task?”

  In truth, Vivianna had forgotten all about her cloak, but she used the excuse now. Better to tread carefully, she thought. If she blurted out her real reason for being here, she might find herself once more out in the street and the door to Aphrodite’s closed firmly behind her.

  “I hope you do not mind me coming, Madame?”

  The woman smiled, and there was something in it at once comforting and yet startling. As if a beautiful and inanimate painting had suddenly come to life. The floor rocked beneath her feet, and then steadied. Vivianna took a sharp breath, wondering if the London air was beginning to disagree with her.

  “You may call me Aphrodite, if you like, Miss Greentree. It is my real name, though rather a mouthful, don’t you think?” Her accent was faint but attractive. She must be in her late forties. Perhaps she came to England after the Revolution, as a child, with so many of the other escapees of the Republic. A blue-blooded émigré turned courtesan? Vivianna supposed it was not beyond the realms of possibility.

  “She insisted on seeing you,” Dobson said. “She looked harmless enough.”

  Aphrodite gave him a bewitching smile. She was still beautiful now, but in her youth Aphrodite must have been breathtakingly so. Surely, if anyone could help her to bring Oliver to heel, then it was she.

  “My faithful Dobson has been with me for many years,” Aphrodite said, and her gaze warmed as it rested on the doorman. “When he was young he fought with the 12th Light Dragoons at Waterloo. He is a hero. That is very good, is it not, for a boy from the Seven Dials?”

  Dobson rolled his eyes, but he had turned pink with pleasure at her praise. “Them days is long gone, Miss Aphrodite, as you well know. Besides, I prefer the peaceful life in me old age.”

  “You are not old, my friend. Young enough, at least, to keep order in this house. Sometimes the ‘gentlemen’ are unruly, are they not? There are fistfights.”

  “Very unruly, but they’re still gentlemen. They don’t know what a real fistfight is.”

  “Non, they don’t.”

  Vivianna had the strangest feeling that although the two of them were speaking in words she understood, there was an undercurrent of something more. And then Aphrodite’s dark gaze drifted back to her and grew curious.

  “I do not think you even remember your cloak until I mention it, Miss Greentree. Perhaps you would enlighten me as to why you really came to see me?”

  It was now or never.

  “I want to speak to you about Lord Montegomery,” Vivianna said in a rush.

  Aphrodite and Dobson glanced at each other, and a secret exchange was made between them.

  “Very well,” Aphrodite said. “Come with me. Dobson, will you see that those lobsters have been delivered? I am tired of chasing after that fishmonger. Frighten him, mon ami, with your snarl.”

  “You leave it to me, Miss Aphrodite.”

  He strode off toward the back of the house, and Aphrodite turned and led Vivianna into a room off the hall. It was as elegant as the rest of the house. A tapestry covered part of the wall, the pastoral scene intricate and breathtaking. A bowl of flowers sat on a table, and the chairs and sofa were covered in delicate, hand-painted fabric. The windows overlooked a small side garden, where a tree was blooming, its petals scattered on the ground like snowflakes.

  Aphrodite gestured toward a decanter, but Vivianna shook her head. The other woman then seated herself upon a chair and Vivianna sat down to face her.

  “I don’t know what Oliver has done, Miss Greentree, but I am a little surprised you find it necessary to complain to me.”

  Vivianna shook her head. “I have no complaint. That is not why I have come. And, you were correct, neither was I thinking of my cloak. I came to ask you something. I…it is probably an imposition, and you may refuse—in fact, I am sure you will—but first will you listen to me? Please?”

  Aphrodite’s expression was aloof, but Vivianna had no doubt that behind that polite mask her mind was turning. “Very well, Miss Greentree. What did you wish to say to me that has caused you to brave family displeasure and public censur
e, by coming to my house?”

  Vivianna hesitated. She had meant to tell Aphrodite as little as possible, and to simply ask for the benefit of her expertise. But now she sensed that Aphrodite would refuse her if she did not explain more fully her reasons for wanting such help.

  Aphrodite was watching her, the polite smile fixed to her lips. “Come, Miss Greentree,” she said with the slightest note of impatience. “It cannot be so bad. I have been called many names, believe me. If you have come to berate me or abuse me, I will hear you out. Say what you will, and put us both out of our misery.”

  Vivianna’s eyes widened. “Oh no! I have not come to berate you, nor abuse you. Nothing like that, I promise you. It is a favor I would ask of you. I…But first I think I must tell you why I would need such a favor. Will you be patient just a little longer?”

  Aphrodite had been watching her with quizzical eyes, and now she bowed her head, relaxing slightly.

  “I believe I have already explained to you that Lord Montegomery owns a property called Candlewood. It is leased to some friends of mine, and we are using it as a home for orphans—the Shelter for Poor Orphans. Lord Montegomery now wishes to demolish the building and build houses, and he is evicting the orphans. Oh, he has offered alternate accommodation, but it isn’t the same. Candlewood is ideal, the perfect place for these children. It is their home. I came to London to try and prevent him from going ahead with his plan, to make him understand. But he will not listen to me.”

  Aphrodite had been sitting quite still, but now she looked up with another polite smile. “Yes, you explained to me when you were here before.” She waved a beringed hand. The emeralds and pink topaz about her throat flashed in the light from the windows. “Orphans. Abandoned children. You feel an empathy towards them, Miss Greentree?”

  It was clear from her tone that Aphrodite felt little. Vivianna tried not to let it upset her. “Yes, I do.”

  Aphrodite raised elegant brows. “Why?”

  Vivianna was taken aback. “My reasons are personal.”

  “Very well”—with another meaningless smile. “But you must realize that Oliver will no more listen to me than he will to you. Less so, I should imagine. At least you are his social equal. I am…psht! Nothing.” She snapped her fingers.

  Vivianna frowned. “Nothing? But you are clearly an aristocrat, Madame! A French émigré, perhaps? An escapee from the Bastille—or rather, the daughter of one.”

  Aphrodite gave her little smile. “You are too kind, Miss Greentree,” she said, but she did not explain her antecedents, and it was clear she had no intention of doing so.

  But Vivianna was curious. “Was it true? The things your doorman said about you? That you were a great courtesan with many rich and famous lovers?”

  Aphrodite lowered her lashes, hiding whatever feelings may have shone in her eyes. “I was famous once, oui. Like Madame du Barry, like Madame de Pompadour.” She smiled. “Do you understand, Miss Greentree, what a courtesan is? She is a woman trained to play a part, and yet she is a part. Often she comes from poverty, or maybe she is of the bourgeois and has fallen upon hard times, or been ruined by some man, psht! The courtesan, she can drift in and out of so-called polite society; sometimes she can be accepted by it, just as she is accepted by the demimonde. There are many courtesans who have married well and put on the cloak of respectability. Others, like me, prefer to remain free of such bindings.”

  “Oh.” Vivianna blinked.

  “A courtesan gives more than just her body, mon chou. She gives her charm, her intellect, her ability to amuse and please. She is a companion and a lover. Sometimes she is wife, mother, and child, all in one. A successful courtesan is sought after by many men, and she cannot stay with a single one, not for long. Unless she falls in love”—and now she looked up, and her eyes glittered—“and that would be a very grave mistake if she wants to continue being a courtesan.”

  “I can see it would.”

  “Now, Miss Greentree, what is it you wish to ask me?”

  Fascinating as the conversation was, she had been told, politely, to hurry up. “Madame…Aphrodite, the other night, you said that there were ways of persuading a man. Of leading him. I want you to teach me about those ways. I want to use them on Oliver.”

  There was a surprised silence. “You want to learn to be one of the demimonde?”

  Vivianna’s face flushed bright red. “No,” she gasped. “No, I don’t want that. I simply need some advice on how to capture his interest, and to keep it, so that I can persuade him to change his mind.”

  “It seems to me, Miss Greentree, that you have already captured his interest.”

  “But I don’t know how to use that interest to my best advantage. How to…to…make him stop!”

  Aphrodite laughed. “You mean how to keep him at arm’s length until you are ready to submit to him?”

  “Yes. And once I do submit, I need to know how to hold on to his interest. To hold on to it, Madame, until he agrees to my terms.” She sighed. “You see, I am very ignorant of such things.”

  “Naturally you are, mon chou. Respectable society does not teach its daughters the perils of desire. They prefer them to be naïve and pure and dependent, and so they must be ignorant.”

  Vivianna watched her, considering her words. It was something she had often thought about herself, but to hear Aphrodite say it was a revelation. Had she more in common with a famous courtesan than her own peers?

  Aphrodite fiddled with the gold mesh bracelet that circled her wrist, turning the catch around and around. “You must care very much about your orphans, Miss Greentree, to sacrifice yourself like this. Or perhaps it is not such a sacrifice?”

  Her glance was arch, and Vivianna supposed she should act the part of the indignant virgin, but she was too honest to prevaricate. When Oliver looked at her, when he touched her, she felt pleasure she had never known before. Why should she pretend she did not?

  It was as if Aphrodite read her thoughts in her face. “You realize that if you are discovered you will be ruined in the eyes of the world you live in? Gentlemen may enjoy visiting my house, but they would not like the thought of a prospective wife visiting it also, for whatever reason. And if they knew you were planning to use your body to ensnare Lord Montegomery, they would close their doors to you forever.”

  “I know this. I will not be discovered. Besides, I want to know what it is like to…to be with a man like Oliver, and I do not want to marry him. I have seen enough of marriage to know it is often not the best life for a woman. I am content to remain a spinster.”

  “Marriage is a comfortable jail cell, oui? It can be so. It can also be very happy, Miss Greentree. You are young. Do not close all those doors just yet, not until you are certain of the direction you wish to take.” Aphrodite waited a moment, and then she smiled. “Yes, I will help you, but only if you will do me a favor in return.”

  Vivianna’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes?”

  “Tell me…why do you feel so passionately about your home for orphans? I do not believe it is simply the wish that gentlewomen often have to help those less fortunate than themselves. Charity, psht! This is something more, something close to your heart. It shines in your eyes, mon chou.”

  Vivianna had not intended to become so intimate with the courtesan, but she realized that to keep such a distance now would be insulting to Aphrodite, and unrealistic. Besides, how could the tragic story of Vivianna’s childhood matter to Aphrodite?

  “Very well—it is no secret, although it is so long ago I think most of the Greentree family and their friends have forgotten it. I am one of them now, and I am happy to be so.” But she settled herself on the edge of her seat and prepared her words.

  “The truth is, I do not know who I am. I and my two sisters were abandoned as children and Lady Greentree found us and took us in. She was a widow with no children of her own, and I could not have asked for a kinder, dearer mother. But despite my good luck, or perhaps because of it, I have always
felt a closeness to children like myself. Abandoned. Alone. I want to help them, and the Shelter for Poor Orphans is my way of doing so. It is my passion, you are right, and I would do anything to save it.”

  And to make Oliver yours, just a little, a voice inside her head mocked. You would like him to look at you as if you were the only thing in the world worth having. Wouldn’t you?

  Vivianna cleared her throat and thrust her thoughts away, back into the shadows where they belonged. She felt as if she were on the verge of making new discoveries about herself, and she wasn’t sure if she would like them, or the person she may well become.

  Aphrodite was sitting with her head bowed, turning her gold mesh bracelet. After a moment she rose to her feet, moving gracefully to the table which held the decanter and glasses. She poured herself a drink, the lip of the decanter rattling against the crystal glass. Her hands are shaking, Vivianna thought.

  “I can see why you are drawn to help others, Miss Greentree,” Aphrodite said, her back to Vivianna. “Tell me, how old were you when you were abandoned?”

  “I was six years old, I think.”

  A clock on the mantelpiece ticked off the seconds; outside in the garden a sparrow flitted from branch to branch, finding insects. Time stretched on, and Vivianna became uneasy. Still, Aphrodite did not turn.

  “Will you help me to persuade Oliver?” she finally asked. “I understand it is an imposition, and yet…I think you will help me.”

  At last Aphrodite faced her, her dark eyes were shining with what could be tears. Clearly the story had moved her far more than Vivianna had thought it would, and relief swelled within her. For all her cool sophistication Aphrodite had a tender heart, or perhaps there was something similar in the other woman’s past. Perhaps as a child she, too, had been left, or her parents killed by the Revolution.

  “Yes,” Aphrodite said, her voice husky with emotion, “I will help you, Miss Greentree. It is not an imposition, and although I have no scruples about such things, I have another condition. I will not send you to Oliver Montegomery to have your heart broken. Do you understand that? If you are ever in danger of falling in love with him, of losing sight of your true aim in all of this, then you must desist. Is that understood?”