~  Sunday, Jan 17, 1813  ~

Over the course of the evening, while everyone slept, London disappeared beneath a thick layer of snow. It reached the windowsills and blocked the sidewalks. Leisure horses remained warm inside their stalls, and I contributed the absence of Clara and her husband, Douglas, to their inability to safely navigate the distance from their flat three blocks away. But the most troublesome bit was not attending church service. I knew Reverend Lawtey would be disappointed. But, by the look of things, the reverend might not be attending either.

On the positive side, the inconvenience provided an opportunity to revisit my kitchen skills. I helped Tilda prepare oats while she poached the eggs. Then Jasper suggested I use my idle time to accompany his violin with my pianoforte, which I had not touched since Christmas. Tilda graced us with an aria she had learned during the short time I entertained a bel canto singer from the Italian opera. We even shared a bottle of port as an early toast to Jasper's upcoming birthday.

It was afternoon by the time Piccadilly Street came to life, with horse-drawn plows giving way to horse-drawn carriages. Clara and Douglas finally arrived and described their adventures through tunnels of snow dug by vendors desperate to sell their wares. The paper also managed to find my doorstep, and I sat at the parlor window catching up on the news.

Turning first to the events section, I frowned when my gaze fell upon an article recounting the clash between one Lord Albert Kinglsey and his close mate, Ben Dalrymple, which occurred during the Oxford estate ball. The reporter described that the row between the two had been triggered by their mutual interest in a young lady. While the paper withheld the young lady's name to protect her privacy, they did report that her chaperone was a naval officer and aspiring boxer who also happened to be her brother.

Protect the lady's privacy, indeed. Poor, sweet Alice.

~  Monday, January 18, 1813  ~

Having frittered away an entire day, the next morning I was eager to see the men at the rehab home to tell them of my recent visit with the army paymaster. During my absence, Thomas had prepared another hymn, and Reggie had shaved. He explained this was on account of his brother arriving that day to collect him so he could continue his recuperation at home. Apparently, his mother did not approve of facial hair.

"How fortuitous that I am here today," I said as I sat among the cots. "I am eager to speak with Sam again. I want to know how he and his family enjoyed the pheasant from our hunting expedition."

Reggie chuckled as his eyes lit up. "He told me about the day you joined him and his blokes. We were all in stitches when he described how Charles vomited on your boots."

"Yes, poor Charles. He is a painfully shy young man. He just needs a bit of experience, is all."

"He needs more than a bit. He has vomited on every girl who comes within five feet of him."

As the room resonated with laughter, the ward door opened, and Sam strolled in. It was as if the gods had called him. And he wasn't alone. Walking beside him was none other than Captain Thompson. When the captain noticed me, his look of shock could not be contained, even though he appeared to be trying hard to do so. As for Sam, he broke into a schoolboy grin.

"Mistress Hayes! I'm chuffed to see you."

"Hello, Sam. It's lovely to see you too."

He plopped down on the end of Reggie's sickbed as if it were a bunk in the barracks. "Reggie said you've been round to visit. He was tellin' me you're trying to get him and his mates better pension. That's a right charitable thing to do."

Charitable?

A knot of discomfort took hold as I shared a look with Captain Thompson. Why did I allow his opinions to affect me so? The man had been stinking drunk when he said it. "When I heard about the disparity in compensation between the soldiers and ranking officers, I just couldn't leave here without trying to do something about it."

"Mistress Hayes has gone and talked to the army paymaster. Colonel Whitaker, no less," Reggie said proudly. "I told her Whitaker is the toughest administrator there, so we're thinking of recommending her to sainthood."

Laughter followed Reggie's comment, causing my cheeks to warm. I had already placed blame on the discontented secretary for aligning me with colonel mutton chops. "He really isn't so bad."  

"That's probably because he was taken-in by your charming nature and humorous wit," Reggie said as a blush added to the razor burn on his cheeks.

I reached for his hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "You just keep practicing those compliments and you'll be charming all the ladies soon enough. Do you think I might come visit you at your home? I will want to see how you're getting on."

Reggie and Sam looked at each other, and their uncertainty spoke before Reggie did. "Mum is a God-fearing woman. She won't approve of a lady visiting me unless we're planning to marry."

Unless my hearing was failing me, I heard a grunt escape Captain Thompson's throat.

"What about church? I often visit other parishes. Which one does your family attend?"

"Saint Helen's."

"Oh, that's a beautiful parish. And I haven't visited in an age."

"I don't think you'll see me there anytime soon. But Mum is sure to keep harassing me 'til I go." Reggie's smile had a look of resolve on it, which had not been there when we first met. It was very encouraging.

Ginny arrived with Reggie's release papers, which Sam had to read and sign, so I said my farewells to the troops, promising not to forget about them. Captain Thompson insisted on seeing me out, and when we reached the entrance, he detained me as I waited for a carriage.

"I hope your household managed yesterday...with all the snow," he said.

"We did fine, thank you. Did you happen to read the paper? Lord Kingsley and Mister Dalrymple were featured in the events section."

"I did."

"And Alice? Did she read it, as well?"

"She did. But she was no longer concerned about ruined reputations, by then. Despite the unholy weather, Lord Kingsley instructed one of his servants to ride from Oxford to deliver a box of barley sugars to her."

"Oh, my. That is something."

"And that's not all. Unbeknownst to the lord, Mister Dalrymple and the servant are mates, so he managed to get a missive delivered to Alice, as well. He wishes to take her ice skating at Regency Park. She hasn't kept quiet about it since yesterday."

"I expect she hasn't." While I still had concerns about Lord Kingsley, I let a smile surface. With luck, Mister Dalrymple would prove himself the more suitable choice.

"I want to apologize for my untoward behaviour the evening Alice and I visited you," he said hurriedly. "After Alice invited Remy to our home for dinner, I worried my father would mention our courtship. I was attempting to give the right impression."

"It did seem uncharacteristic of you, but there was no harm done. And no apology is necessary, Captain."

He stared at me a moment, as if he didn't really want my forgiveness. "I presume Remy's visit had something to do with this plan you have to improve the wages for disabled officers?"

"Yes, it was. And my focus is on the enlisted soldiers."

"Right. Of course. That's very commendable of you." He nodded thoughtfully, and I half expected a lecture on my obsession with charity. But it didn't come. And while I waited for him to finish his interrogation, I decided it would be prudent to share the other reason Captain Remington paid his visit, otherwise we might have a true scandal on our hands.

"I think it would be best if you asked Alice not to invite Captain Remington and his wife to dinner just yet. I told you how I feel about deception, and this whole fictional courtship keeps proving difficult to maintain."

"It's only difficult because you're making it so. I've known Remy all my life. If my father does mention our courtship, I believe Remy will keep the business of your profession to himself. At least until he has had a chance to talk to me about it."

A heaved a sigh, wishing I didn't have to share the next bit with him. But he really needed to know. "Captain Remington had another purpose for his visit that evening. He is considering a position as my benefactor. He just needs to discuss it with his wife. If he learns you and I are courting, don't you think that's something he would be concerned about?"

"The blackguard." The captain whispered his curse as he fisted his hands at his sides. "He's a happily married man."

"It isn't fair to judge him when you don't know his story."

"And you do?"

"Yes, I do. There are certain confidential matters that are discussed prior to an agreement between courtesan and benefactor. Are you insinuating that I am in the profession of ruining marriages? Because that is what it sounds like to me."

He furrowed his brows and tucked his hands inside his pockets. "I suppose my choice of words did come out rather accusatory. But I assure you, I did not mean it that way."

"Be that as it may, I have noticed you often speak before you've given the sentiment a good think. I hope you will consider that the next time we have a conversation. Please, give Alice and the admiral my regards. Good day, Captain."

Fortunately, a carriage pulled up to the walk, and I left the captain in haste, fearing I might say something I would regret. However, after returning home, I could not stop thinking about the captain's behaviour and how it could never be counted on. He was thoughtful and amusing one moment and infuriating another. Twice the idea that he felt something for me had been noticed by others, yet he always managed to prove me contrariwise.

My thoughts brought me back to the night he arrived in a drunken state. He had shared more with me than he had ever done. Details about his mother. The quip about his pitiful father. And the comment about going to hell and back and not being worth saving. I counted on my gut to reveal the truth, and it was telling me the captain fought a number of demons himself.

That evening, Mister Morrisey paid his usual visit, having to move it from Sunday to Monday due to the weather. He arrived in a talkative mood, wishing to share his accounts of how the snowstorm affected his business. Apparently, one of his horses had injured a hoof slipping on the ice, and his best driver took ill. I had become familiar with this side of him, and I let him rant without interrupting. Then I let him drag his hands roughly through my hair, and pinch my nipples with his strong fingers, and drive his thick manhood between my legs. He left with a satisfied smile and a promise to be more gentle next time. I wouldn't hold him to that promise.

~  Tuesday Jan 19, 1813   ~

A pair of missives arrived early the next morning, and I cringed when I saw the Earl of Oxford's wax seal on one of them. While the other had me somewhat baffled. It came from the Thompson residence with the name Vice Admiral Willis Thompson on the seal. Why was the admiral writing to me? Was he becoming impatient about the dinner with Mistress Price?

Dreading the letter from Lord Kingsley more, I opened the admiral's first. But, as I read, I cursed my choice.

Mistress Hayes,

As you may be aware, Alice has attracted the interest of the Earl of Oxford's second son, Lord Albert Kingsley. He has attended her on two occasions, and, most recently, he sent a gift of candies with a letter she refuses to share with the rest of the family. I can only take this to mean his intentions are serious. Therefore, I have invited the young lord to our home for dinner on this forthcoming Thursday, and I would very much appreciate your presence during his visit. I am unaccustomed to the nuances of chaperoning a young lady, and I am afraid my son will botch the job. I respectfully defer to you for this delicate task. Please, respond with your availability as soon as possible.

Sincere regards,

Vice Admiral Willis Orville Thompson

Setting the letter down, I reached for my tea and took a long draw from the warm, sweet liquid. It seemed I had more than one delicate situation to navigate with regards to the Thompson family. I almost expected Lord Kingsley's missive to put me at ease. Alas, it did not start out promising.

Dearest Rosalind,

I often think of you as a rose, with tender pink petals and dew that must surely taste sweet. I look forward to the day you invite me to play in your garden.

You will be pleased to know that I have chosen you as courtesan, and my father has approved our match wholeheartedly. He and the Duke of Norfolk attend hunts together, and the duke has spoken quite complimentary of you. Unfortunately, my father has required that I take a wife before I engage a courtesan.

Which brings me to my next point of business. In this pursuit, I plan to court Alice Thompson. I know you two are close acquaintances, and I wish to ask you a favor. I am afraid I made a poor spectacle of myself at my family's recent gala. While I did make a formal apology to Alice and sent her a box of fine imported candies, I fear she might have reservations should I propose a courtship too soon after the incident. Could you see your way to recommending me as an admirable suitor to Alice at your earliest convenience? My father also approves of my choice in Alice, and he wishes to convey that, should you provide assistance in this regard, he would reciprocate by gifting your household anything that might make your lives more comfortable.

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Lord Albert Kingsley

Oh, no. Not promising at all.

Finishing my tea, I abandoned the parlor and took the stairs to my bedroom. I had adopted the habit, should my day fail to start out pleasantly, to do whatever it took to turn the tide in my favor. Given the circumstance of my conflict, I decided to pay my tutor a visit. Clementine Price always had valuable words to share whenever my ship ran aground. And, perhaps, upon my return, I would stop into Pennington's Shoppe and see if that topper was still on the shelf.

The estate of Clementine Price was nothing short of dazzling. She had built her empire entertaining aristocrats, noblemen, and the wealthy elite, accumulating a multitude of finery that could easily furnish a palace. The second-floor wardrobe was so large, as a child, I would steal away inside it to read. And the attic held enough treasures that, if she wished to, she could open her own shoppe.

The only thing that had changed was her houseman. After twenty-eight years in her employ, Chamberlain passed away in his sleep at the ripe old age of sixty-nine. Nigel had taken Chamberlain's place as houseman, but he could not take his place as friend.

"Mistress Hayes. How lovely to see you." Dressed in a tailored jacket with a monocle dangling from the breast pocket, Nigel made his greeting with a cordial smile. We did not know each other well enough yet to exchange more than banalities, so I tried to imagine Chamberlain's squinty eyes and throaty baritone as I walked across the threshold into the wide foyer.

"Thank you, Nigel. You look spiffing today."

"Just doing my duty. Is Mistress Price expecting you? She didn't mention..."

"I'm afraid this is an impromptu visit. I was hoping to catch her before she left for Bath."

"She leaves in two days' time. Currently, she is helping Dina pack her things. Would you like to wait in the front parlor while I announce you?"

Dear, sweet Nigel. Still so formal. Chamberlain would have had me follow him straight upstairs. "That will be fine, thank you."

Once Nigel tootled off, I sat at the pianoforte and entertained myself while I waited. A minute into my solo, Vivian, the estate's head cook, appeared at the curtain. Her face was dusted with flour, but beneath it she wore a broad smile.

"Rose! I knew that be you. Nobody plays that thing, no more."

I stood to offer Vivian a hug because we had become that close. "Has it been so long since my last visit? I cannot recall."

"Nor can I. What brings ya?"

"I wished to see Clementine off."

Vivian crooked a powdered eyebrow. "I expect that ain't all ya came for. But that's nunna my business. I'm just glad to see you lookin' so well. Are ya happy, child?"

"Very happy, thank you."

"Well, that's all that matters, isn't it?"

Nigel returned with instructions that I join Clementine in her bedroom, and he insisted on ushering me there. One of these days, he would remember I had a history in this home. Perhaps if I visited more often...

"Rose. What a grand surprise." Clementine waved me in as she stood from her well-worn chaise. "You have impeccable timing. I have had the hardest time choosing a traveling dress. I want to make a splash when I arrive at the German ambassador's retreat."

"Oh? You're visiting the German ambassador in Bath? Are you sure that's safe, given the state of things?"

"Certainly, it's safe. The ambassador is on hiatus while his French colleagues decide who to battle next. You, of all people, should know that courtesans are afforded special privileges given any state of things." She smiled then pointed to a trio of dresses lying across her bed. "Now, which one of these says, I've still got it, and I'm here to remind you about it?"

I glanced at the dresses, needing very little time to make my choice. "The one in the center with the emerald sash. It will pair perfectly with your pale green spencer jacket and fur-lined pelisse."

"Do you think I should wear both?"

"I think you should. They're predicting snowy weather at the coast this coming week."

Beaming, she took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "You have always had a keen sense of fashion. I miss our dress-up time."

"As do I."

As Dina busied herself with packing the travel case, Clementine and I sat on the chaise. The sweet scent of her rose parfum brought back memories, yet I couldn't help feeling out of place. True to her nature, my tutor caught on quickly. She dismissed Dina, and when the maid had left the room, she leaned in conspiratorially.

"Something is troubling you. Out with it."

Taking in air through my nose, I confessed. "I'm afraid I have done something I swore I would never do."

Her brows lifted, although they were so thin, I could barely tell they had moved at all. "What has the duke asked you to do, this time?"

"This has nothing to do with the duke. Do you remember the Thompson siblings from my new year's gala?"

"Yes. Captain Jules Thompson and his sister, Alice. I remember he was quite handsome. If I'd had a captain like that when I was your age..." She stopped to look at me when I lifted my brows. "Forgive me. You were saying?"

"I am in collusion with the siblings to deceive their father into believing the captain and I are courting."

"Is that so? I take it the admiral does not know of your profession, then?"

I could tell in the way her voice lilted and by the quirk of her lips that she was more amused than disappointed. It was she who had counseled me never to deceive.

"He does not. It began as a means to draw the admiral out of his depression and down to dinner. And it has succeeded as intended. The admiral has improved miraculously."

"Well, that is something to celebrate. I suppose you're going to tell me you're concerned he will relapse when you and the captain part ways."

"There is that, yes. But I am more concerned about the situation with Alice and the Earl of Oxford's son, Lord Kingsley. The young lord intends to court Alice, and an introductory dinner has been planned at the Thompson household. The admiral wishes me to chaperone the pair."

She studied me a moment then gave her reply. "He has come to trust you. I see how this would cause you greater unease. But I sense there is more."

"I'm afraid there is. Lord Kingsley wishes to secure me as a courtesan once he has married. If he chooses Alice as his wife..."

"Ah, now we are getting somewhere. I take it neither sibling is privy to the lord's intentions?"

"No. I just learned of his intentions today. His missive arrived at the same time as the admiral's invitation. He has even received the approval of the earl. I am vexed for how to manage it. I would not be surprised if Lord Kingsley exposed me unwittingly. He is a foolish and impulsive lord."

"Aren't they all?" She smiled at me kindly, but it only made me feel as foolish as Lord Kingsley. "How do you plan to prevent an awkward revelation during this dinner party?"

Of course, she would ask me that. She knew I had come seeking her advice. And, as always, she would force me to come to my own conclusion. In lieu of an answer, I offered a complaint. "I have told Captain Thompson numerous times that we should quit this charade, but he always seems to have a ready excuse that I can't refute."

"Can't or won't?"

Feeling accused, I drew in my lips. "Are you suggesting I have been willfully prolonging it?"

"Or, he has. Have you not considered that your captain is enjoying the ruse? You have been spotted together a number of times over the past fortnight."

"How do you know this?"

"I know a lot of people who know a lot of people. This shouldn't surprise you. As I was saying... You are a beautiful and eligible courtesan. Perhaps, Captain Thompson enjoys the status of impersonating your benefactor."

This amused me, and I didn't hold back my laughter. "I do not think the captain appreciates my status as a courtesan. He has made comments that have caused him to apologize on more than one occasion."

"Could it be that the reason he doesn't appreciate it is because it prevents him from truly courting you?" Clementine stood and walked to her looking glass to admire her figure, leaving me to wonder... Had everyone gone mad? If the captain fancied me, he would have made it clear by now. Wouldn't he have?

"If the captain sees me as more than a co-conspirator, why doesn't he just become my benefactor?"

Clementine turned from her reflection and gave her head a severe shake. Now, I saw the disappointment. "Maybe because he does not want to share you."