“He is leaving?”
“Yes. Now that he has been disinherited he intends to go and live in Cornwall and brood on his future, or lack of one.” She rolled her eyes extravagantly.
“You do not feel sympathy for him then?”
“Yes, of course I do. But I don’t think he should give up so easily. I wouldn’t. And there is something odd about the whole business. Max has had a great many accidents apart from his most recent one, and I don’t think they’re accidents at all. I think someone is trying to hurt him.”
“Marietta.” Aphrodite was suddenly alert, the laughter gone from her face. “You must be careful! I do not like the sound of this. If someone is trying to hurt Max, then they may hurt you, too. Perhaps it would be better if we were to forget these tasks altogether. Or find another gentleman.”
Marietta realized that once again her tongue had run away with her, and she cried, distraught, “No, oh please, no! I’ve come this far, and I couldn’t start again now. I promise not to put myself in danger. Don’t make me stop now, please.”
Aphrodite took a moment to choose her words, and uncharacteristically her voice trembled. “Understand this, Marietta. I would never put you in the path of danger again. I have you back now, and I will not risk your life a second time.”
Marietta looked up and saw that her mother’s eyes were shining with tears. She knew that Aphrodite loved her, of course she did, but to see now how much made her heart melt with joy and gratitude.
“I know, Mama,” she whispered. “I won’t let anything happen, I promise.”
Aphrodite took a deep breath. “I will hold you to that.”
Marietta gathered her thoughts. “You have given me my task, the assignation between strangers here at Aphrodite’s Club, but what about the rules, Madame? Are there rules this time?”
“The rules, hmm. Yes, very well. The rules are these. You should dress as my protégés do—to be a courtesan, to feel like a courtesan, then you must look like a courtesan. Don’t worry, I have some gowns you can try on, and we will find the right one for you. When he arrives, you will greet your Max at the door of the room, and take him to the sofa. There you will make certain he is comfortable, and when the food and drink is brought, you will serve him. You will make him feel as if he is the most special man in the world, Marietta. Nothing should be too much trouble for you, nothing he asks—within the terms of our agreement, of course—should be too difficult. You will provide for his comfort, and give no thought to your own.”
“Hmm,” Marietta was frowning. “I thought a courtesan would be more…forthright. You make it sound like being a slave.”
“Ah, but this is only one part of the lesson, mon petit puce. Later, then you can make demands on him. For now he must see you as the perfect woman, the one who holds the keys to all his wishes and dreams. That was what I said a moment ago, remember: He must believe he is the master, even while it is you who are really pulling the strings. And you may not believe it, but in my experience most men would like to be waited upon by a beautiful woman.”
“Oh, very well.” Marietta wasn’t happy. Waited upon? No, she wasn’t happy at all, but she didn’t see how she could refuse. Aphrodite was the one setting the rules, and it was only by abiding by them successfully that she would gain her mother’s patronage.
“After he has supped, you can converse with him, but you must talk only of the subjects that interest him. And you must gaze at him as if every word he speaks is a marvel to you.”
Marietta felt like yawning. She was beginning to grow bored just listening. “Gaze at him, hmm. I see.”
Aphrodite raised her eyebrows at her daughter’s tone, but continued on with her list of instructions. “A man likes to believe he is the center of a woman’s world, the only thing that she sees in it. Make him believe that.”
“I don’t—”
“Flirt with him, Marietta,” Aphrodite said bluntly. “Can you do that?”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course.” She considered it. “Yes, I think I could flirt very well with Max.”
“Good.”
“Should I kiss him again?”
“Of course.”
“And…touch him?”
“If you wish to.”
Marietta tried not to show her doubts, or her excitement.
“Of course, he may not want you to, remember that. He will not, as you said before, wish to lose control.”
No, Max would not want her to take charge of the situation. He would fight her, but she would fight back and…Except that she was supposed to be submissive, she reminded herself gloomily.
“If he wishes to touch you then you should allow him to touch your breasts,” Aphrodite said matter-of-factly. “If necessary he can touch you as far as your waist.”
Marietta had been listening, but her thoughts had taken flight. Max, kissing her, Max touching her, Max holding her in his arms when the balloon landed, his body beneath hers. Unlike the submissive rule, this one appealed to her, this one interested her immensely.
“Yes, Madame, I see,” she said at last. “I understand why you worry, but remember, I am ruined. You don’t have to be concerned about me losing something I have already lost.”
“Perhaps not,” Aphrodite said, with a lift of her eyebrows, “but you are still very much an innocent, and there is money to be made in innocence in this business, Marietta. If you have the stomach for it.”
Marietta gave her a puzzled look.
“Did you know that an untried girl can sell her virginity? There are even auctions for such things.”
She was shocked. Pay for a woman’s virginity? Bid to be the first? Surely a woman’s virginity was a gift in the woman’s keeping? Something to be given when she felt it was the right time and place, and the right man. Not a commodity like a button or a pair of shoes or a carriage horse.
“You are surprised,” the courtesan said gently. “But it is so. It happens all the time, Marietta. If you do decide to become a courtesan, then it is something you should know about. It is not such a terrible thing as you might think. Some girls lose their virginity to a stranger in a hayfield, or a boy they admire at a local fair. It is easily lost, more easily than you imagine. Why not make something worthwhile from the transaction?”
“I just…I always thought it was a gift, Madame.”
“Ah, and I have made it sound like a bunch of turnips on market day? It is a gift, but even gifts can be bought and sold.”
Marietta knew she would have to consider what Aphrodite had said, but the concept disturbed her. She had not been brought up to think in such a way—she supposed she had been privileged, far more privileged than the girls here at Aphrodite’s Club, and far more privileged than Aphrodite herself.
“Do you still wish to go ahead with the assignation?”
Startled, Marietta met her mother’s questioning dark eyes, and then smiled. “Of course. I am looking forward to it!”
“Then we need a time and date. We will say eight in the evening, in four days. I will expect you much earlier, however, so that we can prepare.”
“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.”
“So…he might well reverse his decision and restore Max to his position as heir.”
“I’d say that’s what someone believes.”
“And if Max is dead…”
“Someone is safe.”
“Have you any idea who that someone is?”
“Word is it’s probably the cousin, Harold, but no one knows for sure. I’ll keep my ears open, if you like.”
“Thank you, I would like.”
Jemmy’s warm lips brushed her nape.
Aphrodite felt herself tingle all over, and it was as if they had not been lovers for these many years. Her body recognized his, readied itself for his, she was his, and always had been. It was just that she had not realized it until it was too late. And that was why she would never allow Marietta to make the same mistake—to turn her back on love.
Jemmy kissed her again, and his hand slid inside her chemise, with its narrow band of lace, and cupped her breast. Aphrodite sighed with pleasure, and put aside her own concerns, as she turned into her lover’s welcoming arms.
That night in Berkley Square, Marietta found herself too restless to sleep. Her mind was on the assignation with Max, and although she had told Aphrodite she was not nervous, she was. Excited and nervous, all at the same time. Max would help to teach her to be the best courtesan in London, after her mother that is. One day she would wear the fine clothes and the jewelry, to show how many lovers she had had and how successful she had been.
She snuggled down under the covers, trying to imagine what Max would think of her if he were to meet her many years into the future. Would he boast that he was the one who taught her to kiss, or would he listen to Harold and cut her dead? But then again, she reminded herself, Max would be living in Cornwall—it was doubtful she would ever see him once he left London.
The thought unaccountably depressed her, but then she cheered herself up by remembering the assignation at Aphrodite’s. Being submissive to Max, serving Max his supper, flirting with Max and kissing him, if he’d let her. Never mind, she’d find a way to persuade him. There was a lot that Max could teach her, Marietta thought with a smile, but there was also an awful lot that she could teach him.
And then there was her father. She hardly dared to imagine what he would be like, and whether she would feel a closeness to him. She had spoken to Vivianna earlier tonight, and Vivianna told her about Fraser, and how she felt when she first met him, and how she grew to love him, before the end. Perhaps there was something about sharing the same blood that formed a bond between two people, no matter how you tried to deny it.
Marietta turned over and her eye caught the sober gleam of a leather-bound book, sitting on her bedside table. Aphrodite’s diary. Vivianna had given it to her, telling her that Aphrodite had once presented it to her to read. “She has added to it over the years, but do not expect to find your father’s name in there,” she said. “I think it will help you to understand our mother a little better.”
Marietta wriggled up against the pillows, and drawing the candle closer, took the diary into her hands. The tooled leather felt luxurious, almost alive, against her fingers. She let the book fall open, and found herself about a third of the way through it. Aphrodite’s neat writing told her that she was living in Paris, on the Boulevard de la Madeleine…
Today the Compte de Rennie offered me his heart and all else he had it in his power to give me, if I would come and live with him at his chateau on the Loire. I should feel wild with joy, but I don’t. It is as if the golden gloss has been worn off this life I wanted so much that I was willing to sacrifice anything to achieve it. And beneath the gold there is nothing but base metal.
I left the Seven Dials behind me, and Jemmy, and yet now I think of nothing else. His face is with me when I wake and when I sleep, and I want to go home to him. I want to go home.
I have told the compte that I cannot live with him, that my heart is calling me home. He does not understand and I hardly understand myself. London. The word is like a spinning top in my head, turning around and around, and I will leave tonight. The servants will pack up the house and follow me. I will not return.
The channel crossing has been rough but I do not care. What is a little mal de mer when I am home again? The journey to London is tedious but I cannot sleep. And then the city bursts upon me and my eyes are stinging with tears as I look upon her beloved face. The crowds and the smells and the sounds, those lovely London sounds, bringing the memories back so powerfully that I can hardly breathe.
I see myself running through those streets, holes in my shoes, my hand in Jemmy’s, and I see us clinging together, loving each other, and all the time my face was turned away. My eyes were fixed on the false glitter and I could not see that I already owned the best jewel of all.
And suddenly I ask myself the question that I have not dared to ask before: What if my Jemmy is dead?
Elena is waiting for me at the hotel in St. James’s, and her face is so familiar it makes me ache. “It is good to have you back,” she says, and I know that she means it. She is a seamstress with her own shop, but it is difficult for her. We talk for a time, and then I say, “I must see the Dials.” Her expression tells me that she does not think that it is such a good idea. But I insist, suddenly desperate to see my parents and believing, somehow, that Jemmy will be there, too. That he will have come back from the war and he will be home, like me. For me.
Rules of Passion Page 17
