tried to pull away. ‘I’m not staying, miss. My mind is made up.’
‘Oh, yes! You will stay! For a while at least.’ Morgana knew this idea was mad, but rather than consign Lucy to a life akin to slavery, she could set the girl free.
‘You do not have to be beholden to a madam or a procurer or any of those sordid persons. You can be like that woman who just drove by!’
Lucy gaped at her as if she were indeed bound for Bedlam. ‘I cannot be like her, miss! She was a lady.’
Morgana laughed. ‘No, Lucy, that’s the thing! She was not a lady. She was a courtesan!’
Lucy regarded her with a blank expression.
Morgana explained what a courtesan was. For the rest of the walk home, she talked about how handsomely gentlemen paid for the favours of such women. How courtesans could own property and fine clothes and jewels. She explained that a courtesan did not have to obey the dictates of a brothel madam. She did not have to take just any man into her bed. A courtesan could choose her gentlemen, and no one could tell her what to do. A courtesan could look gay and carefree like Harriette Wilson, not empty and hopeless like the Portuguese girl.
‘But I do not know how to be a courtesan!’ Lucy protested.
‘I shall teach you,’ Morgana said, her excitement building.
‘You, miss?’ Lucy cried in horrified tones.
‘Well, I cannot teach you all of it,’ Morgana admitted. ‘But I know how to teach you to walk and talk and dress. We shall find tutors for the rest.’ This was the right course, Morgana knew. How to precisely bring it all about was less certain, but she was determined to save Lucy from the bleak existence of a common whore. If she could not convince the girl to live a virtuous life, at least she could train her to be as gay and free and flush with funds as Harriette Wilson.
They had reached the house and Morgana stopped before the front door. ‘What say you, Lucy?’
Lucy stared down at the pavement. As Cripps opened the door for them, she looked up at Morgana. ‘I will do it, Miss Hart.’
Morgana grasped her hand and squeezed it, then she led the maid into the house past the butler, who, Morgana suspected, did not approve of her friendly manner towards a lower servant.
Sloane sounded the knocker to the Cowdlin town house. When he gained entrance, he handed his hat, gloves and stick to the butler.
‘Shall I announce you, sir? Lady Cowdlin is receiving callers in the drawing room,’ the butler said.
‘Is Lord Cowdlin at home? If so, I would request a few moments of his time.’
Sloane was engaged to drive Lady Hannah and her insipid friend, Miss Poltrop, in the park. He’d deliberately arrived early to see Lord Cowdlin.
The butler bowed and made his dignified way up the stairs. Sloane cooled his heels. While he waited, a footman answered another knock.
His nephew stepped into the hall and handed the footman his card. ‘Lady Cowdlin, if she is receiving callers.’
Sloane would have wagered his new home it was not the mother David had come to see.
The young man looked over and noticed him. ‘Oh, Uncle. Good to see you.’ He strode over and extended his hand.
Sloane accepted the handshake, but with an ironic twist to his mouth. ‘Calling upon Lady Cowdlin, I hear?’
David responded with an abashed expression. ‘I thought I might. And you?’
Sloane glanced towards the stairway. It was taking a devil of a long time for the butler to return with Lord Cowdlin’s response. ‘Lord Cowdlin first, I hope.’
David’s brows shot up. ‘Are you making an offer, Uncle Cyprian?’
‘Not at the moment,’ he replied. That ought to be his errand, but Sloane, who usually acted with dispatch over important matters, continued to drag his feet on this one. He told himself he hesitated only to give Lord Cowdlin time to accommodate to the idea.
A sudden thought occurred to him. He peered at his nephew. ‘Are you making an offer?’
David shook his head. ‘I cannot make an offer to any woman. At the moment, I have nothing but an allowance and prospects. It will be another three years before my trust provides me the means to support a wife.’
How like the Earl to have control of the boy’s money for as long as he could. ‘I see,’ was all Sloane said.
The footman came for David long before the butler reappeared for Sloane. ‘His lordship will see you now.’
Sloane followed the butler to Lord Cowdlin’s library. He barely looked up from the papers at the desk in front of him. It was a rudeness Sloane would not let pass.
When the butler bowed himself out, Sloane approached the desk. ‘You make no secret of your dislike, sir.’ Sloane made certain he spoke these words in a casual manner.
Lord Cowdlin shot to attention. ‘What? What?’
Sloane gave him a knowing smile. ‘You do not rise to greet me. I assure you, sir, if you are so busy, you ought not to have received me.’
Cowdlin glared at him. ‘Well, what do you want?’
Sloane made the man wait, but he stared at him until Cowdlin squirmed in his leather chair.
Cowdlin was no match for him. Sloane had sat across a card table from many a man just like Cowdlin, men who fancied themselves gamesters but who only had the skill to drive themselves into dun territory. Sloane would play his hand with Cowdlin with cunning and resolve. He would comport himself as a gentleman. ‘I wish to do you the honour of informing you of my purchase of a property in Mayfair.’
‘That is it? You waste my precious time to tell me you bought a house?’ Cowdlin huffed with indignity.
‘I came to tell you, before someone else bandied the story about, that I have purchased the town house next door to your wife’s niece.’
Cowdlin stood. ‘What? What nefarious plans are you hatching, sir?’
Sloane gave him a level gaze. ‘My secretary was charged with securing a property for me. He did as I’d wished and found precisely the place I required at the right price. The bargain was secured before he knew I was acquainted with Miss Hart.’
‘You expect me to believe this?’ Cowdlin barked.
Sloane slid into an ironic smile. ‘No, I do not expect you to believe it. But it is the truth, and because of your connection to the young lady, I bring you the news first.’
‘If I hear of any of your mischief towards my niece—’
‘What sort of mischief, Cowdlin?’ Sloane broke in. ‘I am desirous to know.’
The short, round man stood and raised himself to his full height. ‘You know very well what your reputation
