It was done. The notes, both of them, had gone with two strapping young footmen. Eden decided impulsively to cast her fate with whichever message received the first response. With her luck, she was not at all surprised to find the purple-sealed vellum come back within the hour. Mrs. Brown would be delighted to invite her for tea this very afternoon if it would be convenient.
Eden swallowed. She had not anticipated such an early encounter. But what was the point of putting it off? She might lose her nerve and find herself under Hart’s baleful glare again. Or Kempton’s body. Time was of the essence. The sooner she went, the sooner her life could begin. She tossed the note into the fire.
One of the footmen, Robert, had blushed and stammered but had given Eden the directions. How to dodge Mattie, though, was another affair. Juliet had an afternoon engagement, but Mattie took her duties guarding her mistress in the wicked city quite seriously. Eden told the maid she was exhausted—that much was true—and encouraged her to go out with one of Juliet’s maids to the shops for some ribbon. Green ribbon. Just the color of new grass.
Mattie frowned. “You’ll not be able to use it for a year, Miss Eden.”
“I know, but I shall look at it and think of spring,” Eden replied. Inspired, she described other frivolous necessities, just to ensure that Mattie would not return before she did. Pressing nearly the last of her coins into her maid’s chubby hand, she went upstairs to “rest.”
Eden examined herself in the pier glass in her pretty room. Her dress had once been light blue, but it had been dyed black three years ago for Eli’s funeral. She didn’t have time to change. Pinching her cheeks and chewing on her lips, she only succeeded in making herself look like a bedlamite. Well, she felt like one. Going to Mrs. Brown was perhaps the most foolish act she had ever committed, even worse than what Lord Hartford put her through, because she was making a fully conscious decision.
She was no longer a hesitant virgin flattered by the improper intentions of a consummate profligate.
She was no longer the naïve girl awash in first-wakened passion.
She was no longer the passive slave waiting for the word or the whip.
But she would be free forever of Kempton, for how could he hurt her when she would hurt herself?
She wagered she knew how to use her body with greater skill than most. And she knew she was capable of feeling. Too much feeling. She must never allow herself to fall under the spell of any one man again. Hart was as forbidden to her as a trip to the stars. Perhaps she could erase his lingering touch once and for all. She had spent her last night dreaming of his hands and his mouth on her body. Her last night imagining the feel of his browned skin against her own, each point of contact a lick of welcome flame. Her last night wondering how it would feel to have his cock inside her, gliding her to a glory she had never experienced with Ivor.
And she knew somehow that would be true. Hart would be as good in bed as she had been trained to be bad.
In one last desperate attempt to suit fashion, she pulled a strand of hair from her blameless coiffeur to coil to her shoulder. Shrugging into her black velvet cape, she covered her head and made her way down the back stairs and into the garden. She unlatched the gate and turned toward Arlington Street.
The dampness of the day prompted her to walk quickly, and by the time she arrived at the imposing mansion, she was flushed and anxious. Squaring her shoulders, she marched up the marble front steps. Before her gloved hand could touch the brass knocker, the butler opened the door.
“Miss Emery?”
“Yes. That’s right.” For a moment she wished she had given a false name.
“Right this way, miss. Madam is expecting you.”
He led her through a maze of connected rooms, stairs and corridors, all fortunately empty at this time of day. When they reached a carved oak door, the butler relieved her of her cape.
“Miss Emery is here, madam,” he said.
Eden entered, schooling her features. Whatever she had expected, this was not it.
Mrs. Brown examined the girl who stood stiffly before her in her private parlor.
Well, she was hardly a girl. Miss Emery was not in the first blush of youth, nor had she made any effort to appear so. She wore an unbecoming gown which had obviously been dyed black and was years out of date. Her hair was pinned neatly into a coronet. One errant strand rested upon her shoulder, its crimp loosening with weight. If this was Miss Emery’s attempt at appearing seductive, it fell sadly flat.
Mrs. Brown was an astute businesswoman, and Miss Emery did not appear to have much to recommend her for that business at the moment. But Mrs. Brown had been intrigued by the letter, with its neat penmanship, and was in desperate need of another girl just at the moment. No one so far had been quite right for the next Flora. She relaxed back in her cream-striped chair. Everything in her parlor was pale and understated, the better to showcase its mistress. Mrs. Brown’s own silvery hair and white, revealing clothing shone like sparkling beacons of elegant sin.
“Do sit, Miss Emery. May I offer you some tea, or perhaps ratafia?”
“No, thank you.” Eden eased herself onto a straight-back gilt chair, the most uncomfortable piece of furniture in this unexpectedly serene space. The rooms she had been led through had prepared her for quite another vision, although nothing at Mrs. Brown’s was vulgar. Quite the contrary. The public rooms had been opulent without being ostentatious, the lewd pictures on the walls depicted a wide variety of the pleasures of the flesh, but the paintings were executed with some delicacy and skill. Mrs. Brown herself was dressed in the first stare of fashion, although her dress was more suitable for a Cyprian’s ball than a daytime tea party. And she was exquisitely beautiful, her throat encircled with a simple strand of diamonds that were probably not paste.
“What has brought you to me, Miss Emery? Or may I call you Eden? Such a lovely name. It would be a shame to lose it.” All Mrs. Brown’s girls were named for Greek and Roman goddesses of mythology. Mrs. Brown herself was Iris, goddess of the rainbow, a messenger of the gods. She had spread her message far and wide throughout the ton, enabling her to live quite comfortably. The fact that Iris was alleged to be a virgin goddess had always amused her.
Eden swallowed, then raised her chin. “A gentleman of my acquaintance told me this was where I belonged.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Brown had not expected such a brazen declaration. It was hard to imagine this young woman in the throes of passion, although it was clear even draped in black, she had a very creditable bosom. The rest of her needed some fattening up, though. There was none of the tease or coquette to her. Most men preferred a bit of froth. Eden Emery exuded an unsettling stern rectitude.
“Just how many lovers have you had, Miss Emery?” she asked with a smile.
Hart’s kisses and caresses didn’t really count. “Just one, ma’am, but I am experienced. Well trained. There is nothing that shocks me.”
“And who was your teacher, my dear? I confess you do not look the voluptuary.”
“My stepfather. The late Baron Hartford. I’m sure you are aware of his reputation. It was well deserved.”
Mrs. Brown could not stifle a gasp. The current Baron Hartford was known to her now, as his uncle and father had been before him. Of course young Hartford was nothing like them. He had become a fixture for a few weeks before he left to settle his uncle’s estate. He had a healthy, quite normal sexual appetite. The same could not have been said of his relatives.
“Forgive me, Miss Emery, for doubting you. I was a little acquainted with the late baron. This house has been in operation for some time, although I am not quite as old as you may surmise. My hair was every bit as silver when I was twenty as it is now. Some people thought me a bit of a witch, and I tried not to disappoint them.” She laughed, giving lines to her smooth face for the first time. “Ivor was a frequent habitué before he left town for good so many years ago. I was glad to see him go. A matter of self-preservation, as I’m sure you’re awar
e.”
Eden knew very little of her stepfather’s London life. She could only imagine. She inclined her head in feigned understanding and let Mrs. Brown continue.
“I am most particular with my girls. Many young women come to me in hopes of establishing a better life for themselves. Some are without much learning or prospects, victims of abuse far worse than even you may have endured. They have not had your educational advantages. Usually considerable effort is made to acquaint them with their duties. Some polish, a sort of finishing school, if you will.” She poured herself another cup of tea and to Eden’s astonishment dropped in five lumps of sugar. “In your case, perhaps such schooling is superfluous. I’m not without influence. If you are seeking a protector, I’m sure something could be arranged.”
Eden shook her head. “I should get bored submitting to the will of one man. ‘Variety’s the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavor.’ ”
“Cowper, although I doubt he had this profession in mind,” murmured Mrs. Brown. “You hardly look the submissive sort, but then one can never tell. Surely your late stepfather made some provision for you. Especially considering—”
“He did not. And I shall not take the charity of the Hartford family. I wish to be completely independent.”
Mrs. Brown sipped her tea, appearing to choose her words carefully. “A whore is hardly independent, Miss Emery. You must answer to the needs and desires of the gentlemen you service without flinching or distaste. Indeed, with unbridled enthusiasm,” she added dryly. “I have a reputation of having a select clientele, yet invariably there is someone who may wish to bend the rules, as your Lord Hartford was wont to do.” She leveled her silver gaze upon Eden.
“And you must answer to me. I’m known to be fair, but I am strict. It’s true I’ve had a few gently bred girls in my house at one time or another, but frankly, you seem better suited as a governess.”
Eden flushed. “I realize my appearance is not pleasing. But I had thought you might help me with that.”
“Tsk. It is not so bad as all that. Indeed, you are attractive in your own way. Miss Emery, are you quite certain this is the life you should choose? Are there no friends or relatives you might seek? I am sure the new Baron Hartford would be horrified to know you’re in my sitting room begging for employment.”
“It was he who sent me here,” Eden said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Ah, there it was. The answer to the knotted problem of Miss Emery’s grim determination to prostitute herself. There had been a lover’s tiff. The girl was out to thumb her nose and every other part of her body at the baron. Could it be she had no knowledge that the man had become a patron here? Or perhaps Eden was a sly minx who hoped to encounter and win Hartford back under Mrs. Brown’s very own roof.
It was clear she needed to know more about the relationship between these young people. Perhaps she could facilitate a reunion of sorts. For all her apparent wickedness, Mrs. Brown was quite a romantic at heart. But a shrewd businesswoman first, and she would see how Eden’s fall would benefit her own coffers.
“Take down your hair, Miss Emery.”
“Pardon?”
“I wish to see what I have to work with. Remove your dress as well.” Seeing Eden’s embarrassment, she admonished her. “If you’re missish with me, how can I expect you to dance naked before some drunken young lord who wishes to share you with his best friend? You must lose some pride, Miss Emery. It will not serve you well in this profession.”
Eden pulled the pins from her hair and slipped them into her reticule. Her dark hair fell to her waist. “I shall need assistance with the fastenings. Certainly I could not bring my maid to this interview.”
Mrs. Brown laughed, then rose and obliged. “This dress is fit for the burn pile. I assume you have no appropriate clothes for your new experiment. You will be an expense to me.”
She stepped back, noting the very plain chemise and stays Eden wore beneath her black gown. “Hmm. I believe our last Flora was your size, or close to. She left us a little while ago to become the particular friend of a certain peer. She was dark like you as well. The goddess of flowers, also known as Hebe or Chloris. The name Flora is so much prettier, however. How will that suit you?”
“First Cowper. Now mythology. I am surprised by your knowledge, Mrs. Brown.”
“I would not have risen as high as I have if I were an empty-headed nitwit. Did you not know? All my girls assume a new name and identity when they come to me. My benefactor considered himself to be a scholar of the classics. It was his fancy to install Greek and Roman goddesses right here in the heart of town instead of Mt. Olympus or some looted temple. And drive his toplofty neighbors mad in the bargain,” Mrs. Brown chuckled. “My girls are noted not only for their beauty and skills, but for their conversation as well. Some have even found their way into the highest social circles. Of course, their gentlemen are most generous to me. And a time or two, I’ve even arranged a marriage.”
As Mrs. Brown spoke, she was pulling Eden’s shift this way and that. Eden felt a blush creep from her barely covered chest to her cheeks. She had never been inspected so thoroughly except by her stepfather, and he was hardly this dispassionate. She was startled to feel the woman’s fingers unlacing her corset.
“You won’t be needing this unless some gentleman requests it. Raise your arms.”
In seconds, Eden was naked save for her stockings. She was awash with gooseflesh and mortification.
“Too thin, but still lovely. Your breasts are really quite impressive. We shall teach you to use some cosmetics here”—Mrs. Brown’s fingertips brushed Eden’s pale nipples—“and, of course, on your face. Some kohl for your eyes. You’ll be shaved below, of course, and those lips rouged, too.” She laughed. “Some of our gentlemen are interested in our pleasure as well, and we wish to make it easy for them to grant it. You know of what I’m speaking, I presume?”
Eden nodded. Her stepfather delighted in her coming apart for him, although he knew how greatly she resisted. But when she was bound and exposed to him, resistance was futile.
She must be mad to set upon this course with Mrs. Brown. But she was a whore already. It was time to embrace her base nature. She had already fallen so far there was nowhere else to go.
Mrs. Brown went behind the Chinese screen and retrieved an embroidered silk wrapper. “Put this on, Miss Emery—Flora. We shouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”
Eden wondered if Mrs. Brown had lost count of how many other girls had been inspected and instructed to wear this flimsy robe. She turned to her side, exposing the fading marks across her back and buttocks.
“I see the late and unlamented Lord Hartford did not change during his sojourn in the country. But if you permit such use, there are plenty of men who would employ you, although I generally discourage such practices.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Eden had knotted the belt tightly and held one hand over her exposed chest. False modesty personified. Here she stood in a bordello being inspected by a madam. She had better come to her senses quickly or this new position was doomed to failure for both of them. If she retained any maudlin hope that her life would ever be normal, that she’d have a loving husband and children, she needed only to remind herself of the existence of her stepfather’s book and all that was within. There was no use crying over spilled milk and lost innocence. She had thrown her innocence away, flung it so far it was as distant as a glimmering star. Soon it would burn out, and there would be nothing left of Eden but a dark void. No, nothing really mattered anymore.
“I trust you’d like to see your room? The sooner we get you settled in, the sooner you may begin your lessons.”
“You want me to start immediately?” She had imagined that she would return to Juliet’s and then somehow disappear in the next few days. But it was probably better this way. She was wearing her mother’s ruby bracelet and had left nothing of real value at Juliet’s. She could send a brief message. There would be no fooling Ma
ttie again.
“Why not?” Mrs. Brown smiled. “But do not think you will be entertaining customers this evening. We have a great deal of work ahead to make you ready.”
“But I’m hardly a virgin,” Eden said. “And I daresay I could teach you a thing or two.”
“I should like to see you try. You were taught to please one man. You will need to learn how to please many. Some girls detach themselves and pretend, but I suspect you enjoy the sexual act or you would not have come to me. That’s a most rare accomplishment for a woman. You will be a great success here if you can find pleasure as well as give it.”
Eden twisted her hands. “I am unnatural.”
“What nonsense! God has given you a great gift.”
God! Eden shuddered. What sort of woman was she to take pleasure from being tied and abandoning herself to sin? She had felt so deliciously wicked at first, doing and loving everything Ivor asked of her. But ultimately he became bored by her submission and sought ever more cruel and callous games. By then she was in so deep there was no way out. She, the daughter of a clergyman, was a harlot, pure and simple. Her stepfather had recognized it and cultivated it. Hart had condemned her for it. But Mrs. Brown seemed to admire her, and here she would stay until she could burn Hart’s touch from her memory.
Tempting Eden Page 14
