out.
When they had stepped into the hall, Sloane turned to her with a glint in his eye. ‘Forgive my impertinence, Miss Hart, but I am desirous to know if your house has the same configuration of rooms as my own.’
To her alarm he headed for the door of the back parlour, where soft piano music could be heard.
‘Is this the library?’ He put his hand on the knob.
‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘I mean, it is merely a small parlour my father used as a library.’
The voices of the girls inside the room were audible through the closed door. His brows rose.
‘Is it configured as my own?’ He turned the knob.
She put her hand on his, bare skin to bare skin. ‘I think this not a good time. The… the maids are cleaning.’
He seemed to peer all the way into her lying soul. ‘I see. They clean the pianoforte very melodiously. Perhaps some other time I shall beg a tour of your house.’
‘I will arrange it with Cripps.’ She turned sharply back towards the hall and the book fell from her pocket.
Sloane picked it up and read the spine. ‘Miss Hart—’ he whispered fiercely.
She merely extended her hand for the book.
‘Are we leaving, Uncle?’ called David from the hallway.
He was forced to give the book back to her, but his face looked like thunder. ‘Directly,’ he called to his nephew.
She led him back to the hall where Cripps waited with the gentlemen’s hats. David said his goodbye and headed out of the door. Sloane held back.
‘I will speak with you very soon.’ He gave her a meaningful look that filled her with trepidation.
Morgana closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She glanced at Cripps.
He hesitated a moment before asking, ‘Do you require anything further, miss?’
‘Nothing.’ She fled into the drawing room to collect her grandmother, knowing she’d not heard the last of this from Sloane.
David convinced Sloane they should also call upon Lady Hannah, and Lady Hannah begged the gentlemen to drive her through Hyde Park, where she waved happily to her friends, no doubt feeling triumphant at having two gentlemen to escort her. It was nearly two hours before Sloane could return to Culross Street. He drove the curricle to the stables himself and left the horses in the care of his tiger. Tommy would think it the most natural thing in the world for Sloane to cross the mews and enter from the back.
Once in his garden, Sloane crossed through the gap in the fence. Rain began to patter the stone of the garden with fat droplets, and he hurried to Morgana’s rear entrance. Finding the door unlocked, he slipped inside her house. He would bet his fortune she was in her back parlour, from where he’d heard the other female voices.
Sloane experienced the same surge of excitement that he used to feel whenever he risked discovery. He hurried up the servants’ stairs and stood in the shadows, but he was by no means hidden. Anyone who looked carefully would see him.
As he’d hoped, Morgana came out of the room.
He stepped out of the shadows. ‘Miss Hart.’
‘Oh!’ She jumped in surprise.
He grabbed her arm and drew her away from the parlour door. ‘Explain yourself,’ he demanded.
Her back was against the wall. ‘I, explain myself? You are the one invading my house!’
‘I needed to speak with you privately.’ He glared at her. ‘Unless you wish me to discuss The Whoremonger’s Guide with you at Almack’s.’
‘No.’ Red spots appeared on her cheeks.
The colour only brightened her countenance, but he must not allow himself to think of how lovely she was. ‘Now explain all. I will have no surprises.’
She expelled an angry breath. ‘I do not see why I must. This is none of your affair, Mr Sloane.’
He gave a throaty laugh, appreciating her spirit more than he ought. ‘Recall, Miss Hart, you manage to involve me at every turn.’
‘Mere chance, sir,’ she retorted. ‘I did not plan to involve you.’
‘Come now.’ He gave her a level stare. ‘You asked me about Harriette Wilson.’
‘Merely her direction,’ she said defensively.
‘You involved me.’ He gave her an emphatic shake. ‘Now tell me what is going on.’
She twisted out of his grasp. ‘Oh, very well! I shall tell you. Do not paw at me.’
He folded his arms across his chest. She looked everywhere but at his face. ‘Now,’ he demanded.
The words spilled from her mouth with hardly a breath in between. How her maid was bent on a life of prostitution, and how she was just as resolved to stop her. How she’d come upon her solution to the problem, and finally, the solution itself, complete with her reason for appearing in the glove shop and her desire to contact Harriette Wilson.
When she finally finished, he could only repeat in disbelief, ‘You are training your maid to be a courtesan?’
She nodded.
He swung his arms in the air. ‘What the devil has got into you? You cannot!’
‘Well, I must.’ She crossed her arms around her chest, a mimic of his previous gesture. ‘And there are three other girls from Mrs Rice’s shop. Well, two others. The third simply attached herself to them. I am going to train them as well.’
‘Three girls?’ His voice cracked.
‘Four, if you count Lucy,’ she corrected.
He swung away from her and whirled back to lean into her face. ‘Are you mad?’
She shrugged. ‘What else can I do? It is all I can think of to save these girls from that horrid Mrs Rice.’
‘So you will be their procuress instead of Mrs Rice?’ It was all he could do to keep from throttling her. ‘This improves matters?’
‘It is not like that!’ She looked wounded. ‘I am merely going to train them to be as agreeable as possible. To attract a better sort of man. If they attract many men, they shall have the freedom to select.’
He laughed again. ‘You think it is that simple? Do you think Miss Wilson is any less at the whim of her patrons than a girl in a bawdy house?’
She gave him an exasperated look. ‘Come now, Mr Sloane. You cannot convince me a girl in a bawdy house has an advantage over that woman I saw at the opera, in her fine clothes and jewels, all the men fawning over her?’ She drew in a long breath. ‘I have thought long about this. I cannot change what has happened
