Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)
“I am not criticizing you, petit chaton,” her mother said with a frown, “but…”
“But?”
“You are a beautiful woman. It is a shame you hide it.”
“I am myself,” Francesca retorted forcefully.
“You can be yourself without wearing clothes you found in a ragbag.”
Francesca stared at her in shock. “You sound like—”
Mr. Thorne.
“Who do I sound like, petit chaton?”
But before Francesca could find a reply, there was a tap on the door, and a young woman with smiling eyes entered. “Mr. Dobson explained you had a visitor, Madame,” she said. “I thought I’d add an extra cup.” She was carrying a tray with a silver coffeepot, delicate cups, and a matching cream jug and sugar bowl upon it, and she set it down on the table by Aphrodite’s elbow.
“Thank you, Maeve,” Aphrodite said, returning her smile. “You do not know my youngest daughter, I think. Francesca, this is Maeve, my assistant.”
“Assistant?”
“Not all of us are destined to become famous courtesans like Madame.” Maeve laughed. “By the way, the little girl wants to play in the garden—with the puppy,” she added to Aphrodite. “It was a gift to one of the girls from a gentleman friend. Your maid is keeping an eye on her. Is that acceptable, Miss Francesca?”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you, Maeve.”
On their arrival at the club, Rosie had decided she was thirsty, and Dobson had taken her and Lil off to the kitchen.
Aphrodite gave her a curious glance but she said nothing, asked nothing. She was not going to make this easy.
“I thought Marietta was going to help you to run the club?” Francesca said when Maeve was gone.
“She is. Marietta is my heir, it is all agreed. Maeve came here to be trained as one of the demimonde, but she was not suited. Not everyone is, and the choice was always hers. So now she works elsewhere in the club.” Her brows rose. “I see you are surprised, petit chaton. Did you think I forced my employees to have connection with men, whether they wanted to or not? Do you think I buy and sell girls like one of those brothels in Mallory Street? Who is this little girl Maeve spoke of? Why did you bring her here?”
She was upset. Her dark eyes were bright with tears.
Shocked, Francesca half rose from her seat. “No, no…Madame, I don’t think that, not at all. I’m sorry. I am not very good at…at this. I am expressing myself badly because I am nervous. Forgive me.”
“I make you nervous?”
Francesca laughed; she couldn’t help it, Aphrodite looked so outraged at the suggestion. “Yes, you do.”
After a moment the courtesan smiled. “I suppose I can be formidable on occasion.” Her smile wavered. “Sit down, please, and tell me why you are here. I promise not to bite you.”
Francesca drew a deep breath. The moment had come. Her explanation came out stiffly. She told her mother about going with Lil to Mallory Street and what she had seen and, in a split second, what she had decided to do. “It happened so quickly,” she said. “We ran and hid, and…and a gentleman helped us. Then I took Rosie home. At the time I didn’t think what would happen afterward.”
But to her amazement Aphrodite seemed to understand, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “You want to save this girl. You want he
r to have a chance at a proper life.”
“Yes,” she replied with relief. “I do.”
“Then what is stopping you?”
“Uncle William. If he finds out about her he’ll blame Mama…” she paused, embarrassed by the slip. “I mean Mrs. Jardine, and I cannot have that, I really cannot.” Her calm voice broke on the last word, surprising her.
“I never liked that man,” the courtesan said stonily. “Now calm yourself, petit chaton. I will take her for you, just until she can be settled elsewhere.”
“Thank you…”