I left Clementine Price's home with a riot of thoughts clouding my head. I had cut our visit short, choosing not to solicit her input regarding the admiral's other request, that he be introduced to my foster family. My tutor's unspoken advice, which came in the form of subtle gestures and tactfully worded queries, made it clear I was treading on thin ice, and it helped me come to the decision that I would reveal my profession to the admiral prior to Lord Kingsley's visit.

As for her opinion that Captain Thompson did not wish to share me... Well, the evidence for this was beginning to stack up and become worrisome. All the more reason to put an end to our false affair. I had pacified the man long enough.

To assuage my troubled mind, I had my coachman stop at Pennington's Shoppe. If the topper I fancied was still there, I would purchase it without a hint of remorse. The bell above the door announced my arrival, and the two bodies inside turned to look at me. One was the shopkeeper, whom I offered a cordial smile. But a sour taste rose in my throat when I recognized the other as Mistress Harriett Middlestone, a courtesan whom I despised and who despised me back. If it hadn't been for the bell, I would have turned around and discretely walked out.

Ignoring them both, I feigned interest in the new arrivals. There were gloves, sashes, and parasols. None of which I cared about. What I wanted sat behind the counter on the display shelves; three long rows of bonnets in every colour and style. Surveying them carefully, I realized the topper I'd had my eye on no longer sat among them. When I let my gaze fall to the counter where the shopkeeper assisted Harriett, I saw my topper sitting amid a collection of hats she was examining.

Oh, blast.

"Well, don't be a stranger, Mistress Hayes." Harriett spoke without bothering to look at me. This was her way of insulting a person while pretending they mattered.

"I see you're busy. I don't want to interrupt." I lifted a pair of gloves off the table, eyeing the tiny pearls embellishing the trim. They were quite handsome.

"Nonsense. Why don't you help me decide on a bonnet? Your tutor's sense of fashion is legendary in our circle. I'm sure some of it rubbed off on you."

Why you little hedge-creeper.

Wishing not to cause a scene in my favorite shoppe, I approached the counter and looked over the bonnets as if they mattered. The first seemed much too simple for Harriet. Made of cotton, it bore an uninspired eyelet pattern on the hem. Perhaps she was contemplating a change of profession from courtesan to scullery maid. The second, a silk cap in red equipped with a gaudy feather, seemed more appropriate for a circus monkey.

The third option was mine. Made from tightly-pressed wool in a lovely shade of pecan, it gave a striking resemblance to a gentleman's top hat but with an arrangement of lace circling the brim. The perfect accessory for a day at the races.

"If you're looking for something with eye appeal," I said. "I can see you pulling off the feathered cap quite well. And the colour complements your complexion."

Harriett's mouth popped open, and she blinked at me several times, which made her look like an owl. Perhaps, I should not have gone so far as to draw attention to her ruddy cheeks. She really needed to use better products.

"To be precise, I was looking for something to complement an imported gown that just arrived from the estate of Viscount Surrency," she chided. "He wishes me to wear it to the royal winter ball next month. Speaking of the viscount... He claims to have seen you chaperoning at Baroness Weatherby's gala. That was risky business showing up when the baroness has a known hatred of courtesans."

"I assure you, I spent the evening in cordial company."

"The company of a young lord from Oxford, I hear. If you aren't careful, people might begin talking about you pushing the boundaries of your station." Wearing a haughty smile, Harriett handed the shopkeeper the pecan topper. "I'll take this one."

While I would have liked to shove the hat into her fat mouth, I never gave in to violence. Words were often a more powerful weapon. "Pushing boundaries can also take a person farther than their station," I offered pleasantly. "One only needs the confidence and wit to pull it off."

I'd had enough of Harriett and her candle hoarding, topper stealing ways. I needed to leave before I truly spoke out of turn. As I made for the door, the shopkeeper called after me.

"Mistress Hayes. I will only be a minute, if there is anything you need help with."

"Thank you, but I have decided to return when the shop is not so crowded."

On the brief journey home, I cursed myself for letting that spiteful woman get to me. I could always find another hat. I feared my day might continue on this downward path, and I couldn't help thinking it was the consequence of the boundaries I had been pushing of late.

I arrived just ahead of dinner, and my staff greeted me with ready smiles and my favorite afternoon tea, as if they already knew my mood.

"Another missive came for you, Mistress," Tilda said as she set up tea service in the parlor. "I left it on your writing desk."

What now? Was this why they were treating me with kid gloves? "Who is it from?"

"Captain Remington. Would you like to read it?"

"I suppose I should."

Tilda handed me the letter, along with a paper knife, and I opened it with trepidation. While I didn't expect bad news from the captain, I knew the contents had the potential to complicate my life.

Mistress Hayes,

I hope this missive finds you well. I will be calling on you this evening after sunset. I pray you will be available to attend me.

Yours respectfully,

Captain Forrest Remington

It seemed I would have to wait until evening to learn what complications this captain had in store for me. With any luck, he would have testimonials in hand. I was due to spend a good portion of tomorrow with Colonel Whitaker and hoped to strengthen my case by presenting accounts from the royal navy side of things. In fact, the captain's missive reminded me that I had one to write myself; to consent to chaperoning Alice during Lord Kingsley's visit to the Thompson household.

A determined knock startled me out of my thoughts, and Tilda scuttled from the room to answer the door. Could it be Captain Remington already? Dinner hadn't been served yet. I managed to take in a single, fortifying swallow of tea before Tilda returned with a small parcel in her hand.

"This just arrived for you. It's from Pears Soap Makers."

"That's queer. I didn't order any soap. And I certainly wouldn't have justified the expense of going through Pears."

"Perhaps, it's from a benefactor. I overheard Mister Morrisey apologizing when he was here last." Her face suddenly reddened, and she cast her eyes to the floor. "Not that I heard anything untoward, Mistress. He has a large voice that carries."

"No need to worry, Tilda. That's our Mister Morrisey. Bring it over. Let's see if there's a note inside."

Tilda handed over the parcel and stood nearby while I tackled the wrapping with the paper knife. The box itself wore a splendid display of floral printing on the top; a pear blossom if I wasn't mistaken, and when the lid was removed, another wee package waited inside, bound in ivory paper. The size and weight felt just right for a bar of soap, and beneath it lay a note, written as if someone had been attempting calligraphy for the first time.

Mistress Hayes,

Please, replace this with the soap that was ruined washing away the stench of blood and whore.

The note was not signed, but I knew exactly who had sent it, and a smile came to me as I continued to unwrap the gift. Pears curated the finest soaps in London, and the sweet scent that perfumed the air had Tilda and me taking in a deep, fragrant inhale. The soap itself came in a clear form, a unique quality of Pears, with the same floral imprint stamped on one side. The craftsmanship had no equal as far as Londoners were concerned, and I expected it cost Captain Thompson a fair sum of coin.

"My...that be fine soap, Mistress. May I ask who sent you such a treasured gift?"

"It came from Captain Thompson, believe it or not."

"Aye. I can believe it."

I quirked an inquisitive brow at my maid, and she offered an innocent shrug. "I'm just saying, you treated the captain with great kindness that night he showed up here pie-eyed. This must be his way of repaying you."

"That's exactly what he's done. But Captain Thompson does not strike me as the gift giving sort."

"Well, you've only known him a fortnight. Maybe he hasn't had the opportunity til now."

Jasper arrived at the parlor curtain to interrupt. "Ah, here you are, Tilda. Clara is ready to serve, and you know how she gets."

With a squeak, Tilda excused herself and skittered past Jasper like a frightened mouse. To be fair, Clara was not so frightening, only fastidious.

Dinner passed pleasantly, albeit with my thoughts centered around the soap still sitting in my parlor. I couldn't help thinking the captain was using the gift to apologize for more than just his night of drunken abandon. Afterwards, and because my nerves had begun to twitch with the impending arrival of Captain Remington, I had Tilda pour me a brandy, which I sipped in front of the fire.

Just as I'd hoped, Captain Remington arrived with several testimonials in hand, including one written by himself. They all bore the names of officers, including an admiral from his department, and he made a point to let me know they had put their duty to their comrades above their standing. I accepted them with a gracious thanks. It seemed I was on my way to finishing the day on a high note. But our visit had only begun, and when the coffee had been served, the captain sat across from me in the parlor, clasping his hand around the fingers of his prosthetic limb as he proceeded with his discourse.

"I spoke with Helena about my intentions to retain you as a courtesan. The first thing she said was that she expected the conversation to happen a lot sooner."

I offered a polite nod of acknowledgement, hoping it didn't appear as if I expected his wife's response. I had no idea which course she would take.

"She agrees that your annuity is fair, as well as the terms of our...partnership. As we expected, she does not wish us to be seen in public together, so we will carry out our business here. However, she understands we may be required to appear before the military board together as part of your ongoing case with the army paymaster, and she only asks that we use extreme prudence when engaging each other."

"You told her about my enterprise?"

"Yes, and she applauds your initiative. I believe it helped reinforce her feelings about our alliance. She wanted to be sure you were a courtesan with a high level of standards and observed the utmost discretion."

"I assure you, Captain, discretion is lesson number one in a courtesan's tutelage."

My comment sparked a smile from him, and he seemed to relax, letting his hand fold open on his lap. But, in spite of his diminishing apprehensions, mine were just springing to life. On the one hand, our alliance would put a potential strain on my relationship with Captain Thompson, for what that was worth. While on the other hand, I felt a strange sense of duty to see Captain Remington and his wife rekindle their flame.

"May I speak frankly, Captain?"

"Of course."

"Would you be opposed to having your wife call on me prior to our first encounter? I feel a cordial meeting between us may put her mind further at ease."

He stared across the rug at me and his body stiffened. Although the action was subtle, it did not get past my courtesan instincts. "Is that part of your usual protocol?"

"No, but I feel yours is a special case. You would not be seeking intimacy here if your wife could find a way to reawaken her own needs. It is not always the best course to ignore a problem by replacing it with something else. Something that could prove just as destructive."

He turned his focus on the rug, leaving it there before offering a tentative nod. "That does make sense. What are you proposing with this meeting, exactly?"

"Well, I would invite Helena to take tea with me, or coffee if she prefers, and we will spend an hour chatting about anything she wishes. You will arrive after a time and we will both escort you to my boudoir. She will sit on the chaise lounge and observe, although our view of her will be blocked by a strategically-placed screen. She will be given the opportunity to leave at any time. Or, put a stop to things if she chooses."

The captain's face had begun to redden as he fiddled with the fingers of his prosthetic hand. "I don't see how that will put her mind at ease. If anything, it could ignite her wrath. She may appear sweet on the outside, but she can get ornery when she is pushed far enough."

"That is what I'm hoping for." I tweaked my brows, giving him time to get my meaning, but he remained rigid and confused. "I don't claim to know everything about human behaviour, Captain, but I have learned a good deal about the need for humans to seek intimacy. After five years, I expect her body is craving this on some level. We just need to drag it to the surface."

Finally, Captain Remington's eyes flashed with realization. "You believe she still has desire for me?"

"Based on what you have told me about your relationship, I absolutely believe this. But we mustn't let her know this is our intention. While I expect she will likely figure it out on her own, we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

"But Mistress Hayes... If it works, I will likely not need your...professional services."

"And I will be happy to forfeit the additional annuity to see that you and Helena find intimacy in each other again."

After a long moment of contemplation, followed by an equally long sigh, the captain nodded his agreement. We then scheduled our first rendezvous and discussed a few details of our plan before he took his leave. For the remainder of the evening, I went over the plan in my head, not wanting to leave anything important out. I knew the captain and I were taking a bold risk, which could turn out any number of ways, many of them unpleasant. I couldn't help wondering what advice Clementine would give in this situation. Quite possibly, she would tell me I was a bloody fool.

~   Wednesday, Jan 20, 1813   ~

I walked into the army paymaster's headquarters with a renewed sense of purpose. After sleeping on Captain Remington's problem, I decided we were making the right choice to help Helena. Even the secretary's sour greeting could not puncture the happy mood I had woken up in. With a handful of testimonials, I strolled confidently into Colonel Whitaker's office and the overpowering scent of stale cigar immediately struck me in the nose. Or, was that fragrance?

"Good morning, Mistress Hayes. I hope you are ready for a long day of writing. We have a number of forms that need to be completed and filed with the military board before we can begin working on your case."

He wore a satisfied smile, like he expected my enthusiasm to wane at the first hurdle, but I matched his smile with resolve. "I am quite ready, Colonel. And I have several more testimonials to forward the cause. These come from officers of the royal navy, including a captain from the Office of Seaman's Wages."

His spiky eyebrows rose as he took the roll of parchments from me. "Taking your cause to the naval branch, eh? You have been busy. These officers... Are they personal acquaintances?"

While I knew exactly what he meant by personal acquaintances, I would not let him cheapen the value of the testimonials or the men who risked their standing to attach their names to them. "I know only the captain. He is a family friend of Vice Admiral Willis Thompson. The admiral's wife recently passed, and I have befriended his daughter."

My explanation seemed to do its job of putting the colonel off, and he scratched his mutton chops as he pushed a stack of papers across the desk toward me. "I have taken it upon myself to have these forms assembled in the proper order. You will find all the writing materials you'll need on that desk in the corner." He waved his arm toward a small writing desk and chair buried under a stack of ancient-looking texts. "I had the desk brought in especially for you," he crooned solicitously. "As I said before, I want us working very closely on this case. So, feel free to ask me any questions that might come up. Given that you have no prior experience as an enlisted person, I am sure you will have many."

I managed not to roll my eyes. "Thank you. I just knew you would recognize the importance of this cause and embrace it as I have." Before he could correct me, I scooped up the stack of papers and hurried to the desk.

The next few hours did not go as productively as I had hoped. Despite my ability to comprehend the texts with no assistance, I was forced to engage Colonel Whitaker often. Any time he thought I was too quiet, he would leave his desk to hover at my shoulder and point out passages while breathing against my head.

When dinnertime arrived, he invited me to join him in the mess hall, making it sound as if I would be introduced to many important officers who could further our cause. When, in fact, he seated us at a table for two in the furthest reaches of the hall where he gazed at me with lascivious intent for the duration of our meal. The only person I met was the fellow who replenished the water in our glasses.

Returning to his office, I desperately wished to be rid of the colonel's stares, and I worked twice as hard to accomplish my task. The paperwork the military employed was seemingly endless, with forms that required other forms be completed before filing them. But I was determined to see this through no matter the cost, and I was nearly finished when the colonel announced that he would be leaving for the evening, which required me to abandon my task for another day.

"You have done exceptionally well on your first day, Mistress Hayes." Standing much too close, the colonel helped me on with my pelisse, although I told him I didn't need assistance, and I felt his hand boldly brush the side of my breast. While I wore an extra layer of clothing today, on the likely chance he would attempt such a maneuver, it didn't make the experience any less uncomfortable. But rather than call his attention to it, I let it pass. I was at his mercy, and he knew it.

"Thank you, Colonel. I have availability again on Monday. Will that suit you?"

I stepped toward the door, itching to make my escape, and he followed me, taking ahold of the door handle and fisting it. "The sooner we file these forms, the sooner we will see action. Some of the offices take up to thirty days to respond to a request. I suggest you come tomorrow. I know how much you want to expedite this."

I want to expedite getting the hell out of your office.

"I have an important dinner engagement tomorrow."

He leaned forward, forcing my back into the wall. "Then I will see you first thing in the morning. We should have everything managed before you need to make your engagement."

"Very well. I will see you in the morning." I looked pointedly at the door handle, which was still being punished by his large hand. However, he had not budged, and I felt his need radiating off him like the fragrance he had reapplied after dinner. So, I prayed.

Please, Lord. See me through this obstacle.

"I hold the key to many doors, Mistress Hayes. I could unlock any one of them and get you closer to your goal in much less time. All you have to do is..."

A loud pounding jostled the door in its frame, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Colonel Whitaker! I need your key to lock up, sir."

It was the voice of the paymaster secretary, but I heard it as the voice of God. Grudgingly, the colonel opened the door. I shot through it before the secretary had a chance to step aside, and I bumped his shoulder as I galloped toward the exit.

"Pardon me!" I called out, not bothering to turn around. I knew his expression contained either a scowl or a grimace.

Outside the building, I felt such anxiety and such relief I thought I might pass out right there on the sidewalk. But that was not the worst part. Oh, no. The worst part was knowing I would have to walk back through that door again tomorrow.