When the resounding applause of the crowd dimmed to a dull rumbling Victoria grasped for the nearest handrail to hasten towards the door. Aunt Beatrice was close on her heels unsurprisingly given that any post play social interaction was likely to be as entertaining as the play itself. Impeccably attired members of the ton spilled out from every door and the heat in the corridor rose along with the voices of self-proclaimed aficionados of theatrical performances. Lace fans beat back and forth as plans were laid for the next salon or party to visit that night.

Victoria felt consumed in the crush of people. If she had wanted to meet the duke, not that she did, there was no possible way to extricate herself from her aunt who it seemed was determined to continue the night in the fashionable way.

To her dismay Aunt Beatrice caught the eye of the Countess of Wickham and walked steadily towards the older lady while Victoria dragged behind as if by some invisible thread. There was no one she dreaded more than the woman who took one glance at Andrew molesting her in the garden and proclaimed her a harlot. If she had simply halted her judgement until she had all the facts she would have seen the relief in Victoria's eyes to have had any excuse for Andrew to stop his unwanted advances. But halting judgement was not the hallmark of matrons of the ton.

Victoria stared at the satin of her slippers and squared her shoulders for the inevitable abuse.

"Countess, it is lovely to see you tonight."

"Mrs Thompson, a pleasure to see you." Victoria heard the emphasis on 'you'.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" Aunt Beatrice smiled as if oblivious to the tension radiating from their small circle.

"Yes." The countess responded with a look that contradicted her statement in the extreme.

"Shall we see you at the Savoy tonight?"

Victoria tried not to grimace as her aunt pressed on. Aunt Beatrice was too respectable to be given the cut direct but certain people amongst the ton would never truly accept her when she was painted with the same brush as her niece.

The countess blinked twice. "It seems we must." She turned to a friend standing beside her who shared her haughty disapproval. "Apparently they will admit anyone now."

Victoria prided herself on being the epitome of grace and manners that young debutantes are rigorously trained in, but she felt her eyes pop open at the insult and her reticule slipped from her wrist. Victoria stooped to pick up her purse and was met with a pair of legs in motion. Her fall was cushioned by the beautiful folds of a voluminous mustard gown of the softest silk.

The owner of the gown vaulted forwards and they became entangled on the long patterned runner that stretched over the floorboards. A burst of laughter echoed between the columns of legs that surrounded them and Victoria met the amused grey eyes of the Duchess of Bexley.

"Your Grace! Oh my, I am so sorry. Here, let me assist you." Victoria tried to extricate herself while creasing the duchess's beautiful dress as little as possible.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Miss Hastings. I fall over my own feet at least twice a day with very little assistance from anyone. It was right on schedule if you ask me." The Duchess of Bexley grinned conspiratorially. "And to be quite honest, I was reaching to aid you with your reticule. If I hadn't been so hasty I am sure you would have managed the whole matter quite well without my assistance."

"Still, Your Grace, I must apologise." Victoria blushed so deeply she thought her face would match her dress.

"Nonsense." The Duchess of Bexley insisted. "If my own reticule hadn't set me off balance I might have been fine but despite my husband's assurances that I can survive a night without something to read I always find it is useful to have a book tucked away just in case. It is vastly diverting at times albeit a touch heavy on the wrist." The young duchess whispered with sparkling vivacity as if they were old friends.

Victoria gazed cautiously around at the circle of onlookers growing. Her aunt was smiling happily while the Countess of Wickham appeared horrified that a lady in waiting for Queen Victoria had acknowledged a spinsters tainted existence, let alone deigned to converse with her.

"I," Victoria hesitated. "I enjoy reading too Your Grace. Any genre really but French classics or volumes on botany are among my favourites."

"Really?" The duchess's lips turned up rapidly. "I can't say that I have felt an affiliation for either but I always think that it is beneficial to expand ones repertoire. You must come and visit with me one afternoon next week and we shall delve into the Bexley library together."

"Eh hem." The Countess of Wickham cleared her throat. "Your Grace."

"Yes, Countess?"

For the first time Victoria saw the duchess's eyes grow cold as she turned to the older woman.

"You may not be aware, Your Grace but the woman who is conversing with you is Miss Victoria Hastings." She spat out the name as if it sullied her to speak it.

"On the contrary, Countess. I am well aware of who Miss Hastings is."

"Perhaps, Your Grace we should discuss this elsewhere. Shall we say, at the Savoy?"

The Duchess of Bexley tilted up her chin so that her diamond droplet earrings flashed from both lobes in the candlelight. "I pray that you refrain from the effort, Countess. It is quite understandable if the exertions of the play have left you too tired to lend credit to the conversation." She turned back to Victoria and her aunt with a smile. "I find that I am also exhausted, aren't you Miss Hastings? Mrs Thompson if you are content to continue with your adventures at the Savoy I beg that you take my place and accompany the Dowager Duchess of Bexley. Perhaps, Miss Hastings will permit me to pick her brain about botany while she shares my carriage home?"

For the second time that evening Victoria's eyes threatened to escape her head. "Ah, yes. Of course, Your Grace. That would be lovely. Thank you." She stammered.

"That sounds absolutely delightful." Aunt Beatrice beamed.

"Excellent. I shall make the introductions if you would like to join us in our box where I believe my mother-in-law still holds court. Miss Hastings I shall meet you at the carriage momentarily."

With her words, the crowd began to disperse and Victoria felt the Duchess return her reticule safely back onto her wrist and lean in close. "Victoria, your aunt is keen for adventure. If you wish to have one of your own I believe now would be the time to escape." The duchess winked and disappeared down the hall without so much as a look back.

Victoria however could not stop staring at her retreating form. She stood stock still for two whole minutes and then her feet began to hasten down the stairs and out the front entrance of their own volition. Exiting into the crisp night air Victoria took the first right turn and moved quietly alongside the length of the theatre house until she reached a sign above an unassuming wooden slat with a black handle that read 'Stage Door.'

She could not fathom how the Duchess had known about her illicit engagement with the Duke of Westley but the woman had not appeared in the slightest appalled. Perhaps she already thought Victoria a wanton, but then there had not been any shame or judgement in her eyes either. At a best guess Victoria assumed that the duke had confided in her. Perhaps they were friends. Their brief interlude was witnessed by many and by the next day it would be the talk of the town. Victoria had to admit that if it was Anthony's doing, he certainly was holding up his end of the bargain. She doubted the Duchess knew what kind of adventure the Duke of Westley had her pursuing for the esteemed woman would hardly be caught dead conversing with a courtesan. Still, opportunity rarely knocked twice and Victoria's pulse raced to see what awaited her behind this particular door.

She tapped furtively on the board and it swung open.

"Took your time, Diamond."

"It wasn't easy to get away. You are lucky that I came at all." Victoria stepped inside the shadowed entrance with a quick glance behind her.

"I consider myself very lucky indeed." The duke's eyes flashed like lanterns in the night. "Shall we?"

They weaved in between stagehands in constant motion moving props and adjusting rigging from the floors above. A troupe of dancers were released from somewhere within the labyrinth backstage and they spilled across the floorboards in a rush of tulle and powder. Victoria lost sight of the duke as she darted between the tide of people and her heart began to race with fear. This was not the place for a young lady to find herself unchaperoned. Teetering on the brink of panic she felt the firm long fingers of the Duke of Westley find hers through the crowd. He pressed their palms together and pulled her towards him until she was tucked against his chest.

Victoria's breath eased. Despite herself she had to admit that his presence comforted her in this instance. Her eyes widened. Perhaps that was his goal. To throw her into dangerous circumstances only to foster her reliability on him. Victoria straightened her back. She would not fall for such games. She was only attempting this daring rendezvous to meet a famed actress. Anthony had probably already plied the woman with jewels and money. Payment for the courtesan to encourage an untried spinster into his bed.

"Pfft," Victoria snorted. Not bloody likely.

"Diamond." Anthony looked down at her with a perplexed frown. "Did you just snort?"

Victoria reared back. It was highly unladylike to snort but even more ungentlemanly for him to notice. "I can't imagine what you are referring to."

The duke's lips pulled slowly into a wide, mischievous grin. "I am referring to the drawing up of phlegm through ones nose."

"Oh my god, Anthony!"

The duke chuckled as they approached a solitary door at the end of the aisle. "How interesting. In unguarded moments the proper Miss Hastings snorts, blasphemes... I wonder what else she will do?"

"You aren't likely to find out!" Victoria hissed and poked him in his side.

"Ouch." Anthony rubbed at his ribcage. "Okay, so I deserved that. I promise to be on my very best behaviour when I am alone with you Miss Hastings."

"We aren't going to be alone, Your Grace." Victoria asserted emphatically.

There was a long pause in which the muted scuffs of footprints could be heard in the distance but the silence of their immediate vicinity prevailed and Victoria looked about the darkened hallway. The narrow space was lit only by an occasional flickering lamp throwing soft coils of light that did little to penetrate the shadows. The actors had cleared from their rooms and were likely onto the next event or party for the evening. Not a soul lingered in the hall and definitely not in the narrow space between her and the duke.

"I beg to differ, Victoria." The duke looked down at her with molten eyes that burned in a way no fire ever could.

Victoria was suddenly very aware that the duke still held her hand in his. "Anthony-" she began not knowing what words to follow with.

"Enter." A husky feminine voice resonated through the wooden door.

Victoria pulled back her hand sharply.

"I believe she is talking to you, Miss Hastings."

Victoria frowned. "You aren't coming?"

"I believe that a gentleman has no place in whatever two ladies wish to discuss."

Victoria raised a brow.

"It is the particular wish of Miss du Coeur to speak with you in private." The duke conceded.

"What? Why?!" Victoria's proper façade slipped once again.

"Let us just say that she is less than impressed with me at present. You, however, she likes. Now hurry on, she is not a woman to be kept waiting." The duke reached for her hand again, placing his lips briefly against her fingertips. He lifted his head, licked his lips and frowned.

"Is that peanut?"

"My aunt carries snacks in her reticule for during the performance."

Anthony barked with laughter. "I always knew I liked that woman."

His usually sombre expression lightened and he was once again the dapper young man she had been infatuated with. Victoria's heart skipped a beat. She needed to escape the confines of the corridor and looked once again at the brass doorknob with its hanging crimson tassel. 

With a deep breath she turned the handle and crossed the threshold into a chamber of soft candlelight, perfumed with sandalwood, gardenias and the scent of fresh ripened apples. A slow undulating trail of smoke wafted from incense that burnt in the corner and long flowing drapes the colour of the deepest rose hung in swathes that gave the room a feeling of existing in the most decadent of Parisian pleasure dens. Victoria's gaze was drawn to the beautiful woman curled upon a chaise in the centro, an overhanging palm frond her only attendant.

"Would you care for some tea, or perhaps a little champagne?" The actress asked politely.

Victoria remembered the drinks that circulated in the theatre that she could not partake of and decided that since she was already putting one foot in hell she may as well dip the other. "Oh, ah yes. Champagne. Please." Victoria tacked on the pleasantry as an afterthought. How did one address a known courtesan? Woman of her standing should not even acknowledge a courtesan's existence, but here she was, offering her tea.

"Thank you for consenting to meet me." Victoria decided that she never really liked the ton anyway. In her book, every single person deserved to be treated with kindness.

"It is my pleasure, Miss Hastings. Please sit and call me Liara." The courtesan set aside her own tea cup rimmed in gold and poured the frothing liquid into a waiting flute.

"Thank you Liara." Victoria reached for the stem and paused as the golden liquid fizzled and foamed against her lips. She took her first sip and sighed as it flowed over her tongue with a sharp, sweet tang. "You must be surprised to see me here."

"The Crimson Guild draws many to its door. It is only natural that you, like many others have questions. What is it that brought you to me tonight?" Liara cupped a palm under her own teacup and curled her legs beneath her allowing the thin folds of her ivory robe to fall around her like a silken sheet.

Victoria wondered if she should disclose the details of her illicit wanderings but if anyone could understand a sordid deal with a duke, surely it would be a member of the demi monde. "It's a funny story really. The Duke of Westley and I made a little wager. He thinks that despite being a spinster I have some sort of salacious beast at heart which really isn't the case despite what rumours may say."

"Interesting." Liara rimmed her cup with a fingertip. "And what are the terms of this wager if you don't mind me asking?"

Victoria took another little sip of tea. "Well, if I should resist temptation at every turn he promises that the ton will somehow accept me by the end of the Season, and if I fail then I must marry him."

Liara raised a dark brow. "An interesting predicament. However, if you will permit me to say, you don't seem to lose in this circumstance. From what I understand of the Duke of Westley he is a very wealthy man who is not difficult to look at and is in possession of a sound mind. Many debutantes this Season and many Seasons past would willingly follow him to the altar."

Victoria pursed her lips and set down her glass. "Not me. I remember him when he was younger and frankly he was a quite cruel to me."

"And now?" The actress queried.

"Well, no. Not now." Victoria stopped, startled.

"Then why refuse a handsome and wealthy man who so obviously wants to wed you?"

"Because he doesn't really want to marry me!" Victoria attempted to control her voice from the gentle hum that was the mark of a proper lady. "I know him. He thinks that because I am unwed and of a certain age I will fall into bed with him. Well I can tell you that I am not that kind of woman. A woman like, like..." Victoria trailed off as she realised whom she was belittling.

"A woman like me?" Liara politely inquired. "Let me ask you something Miss Hastings." She smiled and refilled Victoria's glass. "Why is it acceptable for a man to have certain desires and needs of the body, but not a woman. It is perfectly normal for a woman of any age and certainly of yours to have had a craving for human contact. What makes it so improper that your needs are not to be met?"

Victoria's jaw dropped open.

"Now, I am not saying that the Duke of Westley deserves your favours but if you should choose to bestow it then I suggest you do so without the construct of marriage making the rules. In my experience it does not guarantee happiness." The courtesan placed the steaming brew into Victoria's hands and met her eyes. "Your body is yours to enjoy and yours to share with whoever you deem worthy. Your need is not shameful and neither is his. Subterfuge however is, at least in these matters."

"So you think that I should wed the duke?" The question slipped from Victoria's lips before she even knew she had asked it.

The actress's eyes turned soft and kind. "What I think hardly signifies. And what the ton think means even less. They don't know you Miss Hastings. Only you know who you truly are. Never make the mistake of putting your own identity into someone else's hands. You are far too valuable for that. So I must ask do you know yourself? Do you like the woman you meet in the mirror?"

"I... I don't know. I mean, the wager has begun and already I have failed on the first temptation." Victoria grimaced.

"Failed or succeeded?" Liara tilted her head pointedly. "Look at where you are, conversing boldly with a courtesan over a glass of champagne. You are in this moment bolder and more courageous than you have ever been."

Victoria's lips couldn't help but curl upwards. She liked this woman. Despite herself, and in spite of what many of the ton would say Liara du Coeur was... real. She was real in ways that the ton could never be and maybe that is why they all flocked to her and were afraid of her.

Victoria was suddenly filled with an ache to meet the woman beneath her own skin. Diamonds were not born, they were formed and years of instruction in drawing rooms had perfected her into an object for the ton. But somewhere under the glitter was a girl she barely knew.

She savoured the last drop of her drink. "Thank you for your time, Miss du Coeur. It has truly been a pleasure meeting you." Victoria stood up a touch too quickly and stumbled a little before catching her balance. She made for the door but turned back before she had reached it. This was perhaps the only time she would ever have to ask such a question and she decided that it was something that she would like to ask.

"Liara?"

"Yes, Miss Hastings?"

"What does it feel like?"

Liara's eyes filled with passion. It poured into her irises like the river to the sea and Victoria suddenly felt what it was like to truly be in the presence of a courtesan. "With the right person, it is indescribable."

***

Had Victoria not worn gloves she would have sat in the carriage on the way home biting at her nails. Her mind was full with the words of the courtesan. Who was the real Victoria? She hardly knew any more. The woman she saw in the mirror was a shadow of the one she had once known. She wasn't sure that she was a flashy naive debutante in her heart anymore but nor was she a bookish spinster ready to be cloistered in libraries for the rest of her life.

She looked out of the window of the Westley carriage at the gas lamps glowing brightly along the Strand. It was the same landscape as she had always seen but somehow it struck her senses anew. Could she imagine a world where she too did not care to be chained down by the views of society? Would that make her a fallen woman? Victoria wrinkled her nose in disgust. No, she could not stomach that. But she had heard of women who stood up for women's right to vote, to think, to choose for themselves. The Colonies allowed women to vote in elections and there was talk that females could one day own their own land. Times were changing, maybe it was also time that she changed.

She looked over at the Duke of Westley. He sat in the opposite corner gazing out at the darkened scenery with reserved politeness. For a man who seemed constantly trying to woo her, he had made little use of their fleeting time alone together. Victoria wondered how long it would take for him to speak and settled into the companionable silence.

When they rolled to a stop in the lane behind her Aunt's small home in Piccadilly Anthony cleared his throat. "It is safe for you to enter. Your aunt will not have returned from the Savoy yet."

"How do you know?" Victoria asked perplexed.

He smiled with gentle assurance. "I asked a friend for a favour. In any case, your aunt is a lovely woman. She deserves all the assistance that the Dowager Duchess of Bexley can afford her and such a friendship can only be mutual between two such women."

Victoria felt her heart twinge. A man who was wealthy was one thing. A man who was beautiful another. But a man who cared for her family as she did was altogether an entirely different and dangerous creature.

The carriage door was opened by the footmen and Victoria rose to exit.

"You will understand if I do not see you to the door," Anthony offered his regrets. "Your reputation after all must remain intact."

Victoria nodded but remained otherwise silent. It had been a curious evening and her emotions were still settling in her skin. With her feet on the pavement and the cool night air in her lungs things seemed a bit clearer and she looked back into the shadowed cavern of the carriage.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I had a lovely time tonight. Strange, but lovely."

The duke's teeth flashed white through the darkness. "Strange, but lovely," he tasted the words in his mouth. "Yes, I like that. It describes everything about us."

Victoria frowned.

"In the best possible way." The duke amended.

Victoria reluctantly thought he might be very right. "Goodnight, Your Grace."

"Goodnight Diamond."

For the first time Victoria smiled at the name. If diamonds were formed in the earth under great pressure maybe she wasn'ta diamond yet, but she soon would be. 

~If you liked this chapter please>>>>VOTE~

A/N:

Did you enjoy the cameo of two of your favourite maids? If you have not yet read Persuasion in the Pantry and would like to see a little more into the lives of the Duchess of Bexley and Miss Liara du Coeur I suggest you check out the first book in the Maid for More series!

What do you think Victoria is going to do with her newfound introspection? She has taken the first bite of the apple but will it lead her away from the proverbial Eden? The kind of woman that lays beneath the glitter and gold may not be the one you were expecting. 

xx Inara