Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“No, you must promise me something first. You must promise never to put yourself in danger again.”

“That is an easy promise.”

“Good. You mustn’t wander the streets. There is sickness, did you not know?” when Francesca appeared surprised. “It’s the cholera. No one knows how it comes and where it comes from, but it does not discriminate between the wealthy and the poor. It has no pity. At the moment it is very bad.”

“I didn’t realize.” Cholera. She knew of it, and the swift death it brought. Unlike some of the other sicknesses to be found in London, it was not something confined to the slums. Cholera, as Aphrodite said, was no respecter of class or station in life.

Aphrodite sipped her coffee. “You mentioned a gentleman who helped you?”

“Yes, Mr. Thorne.”

“Mr. Thorne?” Her dark brows lifted. “Mr. Sebastian Thorne?”

“Do you know him?” A dark, curling jealousy wrapped around Francesca as an image of Sebastian in the arms of one of Aphrodite’s beautiful courtesans filled her mind.

“He is an investigator, no? I have heard that he is good at his work. And dangerous to those he pursues.”

“Oh.”

Aphrodite’s smile was knowing. “You like him, oui? He is very handsome.”

Francesca turned her face away, pretending indifference. “I hadn’t noticed,” she announced awkwardly.

Aphrodite considered her a moment, and then she shook her head in disgust. “Psht! You can lie to yourself, but do not lie to me. I see it. No”—she held up one long finger—“no more pretense between us. We are mother and daughter, however you would wish it otherwise. Drink your coffee.”

Francesca did consider arguing, but Aphrodite had become so formidable that she didn’t quite dare. She drank her coffee.

The conversation turned to Yorkshire, and the weather. Banal subjects to be discussing with a courtesan. It was only as Francesca was leaving that Aphrodite clasped her hand and said, “You must come back to visit your Rosie. I will expect it.”

“Thank you, I will. And…I am grateful, Madame.”

“I have always been here when you need me,” Aphrodite said sincerely, her eyes bright.

Her emotion made Francesca uncomfortable, because she could not share it. But then she had always known her mother was a woman ruled by her emotions, so there was no surprise there. However, Aphrodite did surprise her in ways she’d not expected. She was intelligent and accomplished and astute—she ran her own business in a world where men predominated. She had been generous to her daughter when she need not have been.

Still, Francesca reminded herself, she must never forget that Aphrodite was a courtesan, a woman who used her body to gain favor and fortune, a woman whose passions were everything.

The sort of woman Francesca had sworn never to become.

She was grateful for her help, but it would be a relief when Rosie was settled with Vivianna.

Lil decided to stay awhile with Rosie. “She might get frightened, the little moppet,” the maid said fondly. Francesca didn’t think much frightened Rosie, but she agreed. So she was all alone when she boarded the empty hackney waiting outside the club.

Once she gave the driver Uncle William’s address, and settled back on the worn seat, Francesca was able to let her thoughts wander. She’d asked Aphrodite a favor, and it had been granted without histrionics, emotional blackmail, or the clinging of a damaged woman. The only thing Aphrodite asked in return was something Francesca had fully intended to do anyway!

It was worrying that all these years she’d been under the impression that Aphrodite was one woman, and now Francesca had found she was another. That didn’t make things right, of course. She and her mother were very different, she told herself. Very different.

But there was a doubt planted inside her—that she did not really know her mother at all.

The hackney had come to a stop.

Surprised, Francesca straightened and looked about her. Was there a holdup in the traffic? But no, they had veered off into a quieter, narrower street, and there didn’t seem to be anyone about. Concern fluttered her heart.

“Driver? What is happening?”

But the driver ignored her, and now she was really concerned. Francesca reached for the door handle, intending to get out. She could find another cab, or at the very least give the driver a piece of her mind.

But before she could do either, the door was flung wide open and a man sprang into the compartment beside her.