Loving Lily (Fair Cyprians of London 6)

Hamish refrained from comment. “She tells me she doesn’t intend staying at Madame Chambon’s, which may or may not be the case. But if your friend can update you on the exploits of this woman, a so-called widow called Mrs Eustace, with blonde curls and a face like an angel, then I’d appreciate learning the details.”

“Got a bit o’ a reputation, ’as she? Likely ter get ’erself a ’igh stepper, eh?”

“No, not yet. And I may perhaps be doing her an injustice. She claims to be respectable but to have fallen on hard times.”

“Don’t they all?” Archie blew out a gust of sceptical air.

“Anyway,” Hamish hesitated, “I just have a feeling that we may be hearing of her in the not-too-distant future.”

* * *

Lily sat on the narrow iron bed and ran her hands over the cheap cotton counterpane as she listened to a heated discussion through the thin walls.

This was a comedown from Madame Chambon’s, but the boarding house, while populated with the working class, was respectable. And it was the last place Robert would think to look for her, if he even knew she was missing.

“So, what am I required to do to keep a roof over my head?” she now asked, looking up to see Mr Montpelier’s black-eyed gaze fixed upon her. He was seated on a chair in the window embrasure. A man in a respectable woman’s bedroom should have been unthinkable.

But she was no longer respectable. And she shuddered to think what this might cost her.

“Yes, this entire charming little bower is yours.”

“At what price?” The only thought that gave her any peace was his initial inference that he would not be her pimp. And if using her for her body was his intention, he surely could have made a handsome bargain with Madame Chambon.

“So, you have brought me here to this rented room,” she began, “and given me clothes that were, perhaps, fashionable two seasons ago.” She studied the polonaise with its tight skirt, natural form bustle, and the style of its trimmings. It had been de riguer when she’d been taken to the maison. Two seasons on, it would show that its wearer had not the funds to keep up with fashion or had bought it secondhand. She sighed. “What is it that you wish of me, Mr Montpelier? You snatched me from the maison for a reason, and for the last four weeks, I’ve plotted my escape as I regained my health.”

“And your looks, Mrs…” Frowning, he said, “I had not thought of a name, madam. That is something that will need to be remedied. Something not too unusual, but not too common, either.”

“I read Lady Eustace’s Diamonds at Madame Chambon’s,” Lily said sullenly. “Eustace has a nice ring to it.”

“What was your name before you married?”

“Taverner.”

“Taverner, ah yes, how could I have forgotten? No, we don’t want any connection with your past, do we. In that case, Eustace will serve well enough. Lily Eustace.” He paused, obviously thinking. “A wardrobe of clothing two years old is just the thing. Not too expensive but just what the woman you need to be would have worn.”

“You speak in riddles, Mr Montpelier. That is, when you speak at all. What is it that you want of me? And why me? There are plenty of vulnerable women with no family to protect them who would have been far less a risk to you, even grateful, perhaps. But you are keeping me against my will. I ask you again. Do you think I should be happy to exchange one prison for another? That I will be grateful?” Agitated, she rose and began to pace before turning, tilting her chin mutinously as she went on, “You think you can bend me to your will, but you are wrong, Mr Montpelier. I will not be used

like some…some servant or slave or…” As she said the words, the terror of what he really did have in mind for her grew. “You cannot force me to act against my will just as Madame Chambon could not force me to become one of her girls. I would never demean myself like that. I have morals and integrity. I’m not like one of…those women.” Her breathing grew more laboured, and she wrung her hands.

“Are you any better than those women?” He raised an eyebrow. “You cuckolded your husband.”

Lily’s hand went to her throat. “I fell in love—” But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true, though at the time Teddy offered her salvation from a loveless eternity with Robert. And besides, how did he know this? Mr Montpelier was not of her class, nor from her locality. Though he tried to speak like a gentleman, he was more likely from the slums of London.

She thought of the letter now making its way to Teddy. Was he looking for her? Would he go to Madame Chambon’s when he received her entreaty?

“You might do well to remember, madam, that I have not so much to lose as you do if you do choose to bow out of your…contract, shall we call it. I was already in Belgium when your sad story was communicated to me. When you learn what you are to do I think you will see the benefits to yourself.”

Lily spun on her heel. She felt like crying but would not. “You’ve told me nothing! Not even what I’m to do! How can I stay here when for all I know, my life might be in danger!”

“I’d imagine your life would be in far greater danger on the streets.” He looked out through the window, where the noise of the rumbling carts and carriages and the shriek of a fishwife competing with a newspaper vendor seemed to fill the room. “Or back in Brussels. Are those not your choices? Unless you’d like me to return you to your husband.”

“To Robert? Dear God, not that,” she muttered, sinking down onto the chair nearest her.

“And you have no friends or family who will take you in otherwise you’d have left Madame Chambon’s at the first opportunity.” He clicked his tongue. “I was not pleased when you bolted from the carriage, but events worked out surprisingly well. I admit, it had been something of a shock to discover the poor physical condition of the apparently exquisite Lady Bradden. In fact, I nearly left you where you were. But the possibilities of what you could achieve should you regain your former glory were too intoxicating.” He gave a short laugh. “The fact that you chose the most notorious brothel in London to seek refuge would have been comical if it hadn’t proven such a boon. Madame was happy to feed and clothe you for a nominal fee. She could see what I could not—that you had potential. No doubt she has vast experience of what feeding and decent clothes can do for a girl. And when a girl has no protectors, but the potential to be a beauty, a bit of food and a shelter is worth a punt. Incidentally, she’s more than willing to take you back.”

“You mean, if I don’t perform to your standard.”

“Oh no, you are too perfect to fail at what I have in mind. Have no fear on that score.”