Lucy!’ Morgana felt tears sting her eyes. She knelt beside the girl, who fell into her arms. ‘How very awful for you.’
‘I was startin’ to think maybe I wasn’t all bad.’ Lucy managed between shuddering sobs. ‘Your lessons—Madame Bisou’s and Miss Moore’s—you tell us all the time that we are worth somethin’ no matter what, that we deserve nice things. I was startin’ to believe it, but I saw him, and I remembered…’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Who was it?’ Sloane’s voice cut through the night like sharpened steel.
Lucy looked up at him, and her sobbing stopped. ‘His name is Mr Castle. He has the button shop next to my father’s hosiery.’
‘Where?’ Sloane said in the same honed voice.
‘Cheapside,’ she answered. ‘Milk Street.’
He nodded, still thin-lipped.
Morgana rose to her feet, her eyes on Sloane, sensing the danger rising in him. It filled her with dread.
Elliot spoke up. ‘I’ll bring her back in a bit, when she’s a little calmer.’ He gave Morgana a direct gaze. ‘You can trust her to me.’
Morgana had no doubt she could. Lucy was in very good hands indeed. ‘Well, we shall go then. I’ll tell the others she was scared for a moment, but you talked her out of it, reminding her of the mask.’
He nodded agreement.
As soon as she and Sloane were out of earshot, Morgana asked, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Do?’ He stared straight ahead, but his voice still held that timbre of violence.
‘About the man who molested Lucy.’
He did not answer.
‘Are you going to kill him?’
He met her eye. ‘You think me capable of such a thing?’
She did not look away. ‘Yes.’ She could easily imagine him able to kill a man.
His eyes narrowed. ‘It does not shock you?’
‘No.’ A wild part of her wanted to kill the man herself for the wrong he’d done to Lucy. She dared not examine that part too closely. ‘Will you do it?’ Her voice came out all breathless.
He stared at her a long time ‘No.’ He took her arm suddenly and said, ‘Come with me.’
Instead of returning her to the supper box, he led her to one of the small restaurants along the colonnade, selecting a small table in the corner where they were relatively private. He ordered them both a glass of wine. She felt unreasonably happy to be in his company.
‘I must speak with you, Morgana.’ Sloane’s tone of voice did not mirror Morgana’s gaiety, however. ‘Does this not prove to you the dangerousness of this escapade? Suppose that man had recognised Lucy? What might have happened then?’
She avoided his eyes. ‘But he did not see her, any more than Miss Poltrop or Varney saw us.’
He waved aside her comment. ‘What if I had not been with you? Would you have run down the Dark Walk yourself, searching for Lucy?’
The server brought the wine and Morgana waited until the man left. ‘I would have made Mary and Mr Duprey come with me.’
‘No, you would not. You would have gone by yourself. You are reckless, Morgana.’ He took a sip of wine before saying more. ‘You do not perceive how easily one’s reputation can be ruined. This business of yours already risks too much.’
She flashed her eyes. ‘It is too late to scold me for this! It is done and I will not fail those girls now.’ Morgana fought a wave of nausea. Was teaching Lucy, Katy, Rose and Mary to pander themselves so different than that man pandering Lucy?
‘Give it up,’ Sloane commanded.
She gazed at him, hoping he could not see the pain in her eyes. ‘How can I?’
He did not answer but looked away, drinking his wine. Morgana felt the bitter sting of failure, the loss of his friendship, the shattering of her secret dreams. The only thing worse would be for him to realise that she herself knew how thoroughly she’d mismanaged everything.
She placed her glass on the table and made herself look defiant. ‘Do you know that I envy them? I envy those girls. They will not be constrained by conventional behaviour. They will be able to do as they wish!’
She captured his attention, because his eyes flashed at her. ‘They will have constraints of a different kind.’
She secretly agreed, but could not stop herself from going on. ‘You are one to talk, Sloane. You have known the freedom of doing whatever you wish. My cousin Varney told me of it. It seems to me your choice to re-enter society is more mystifying than my desire to break its chains.’
A muscle in his cheek flexed. ‘Being on the outside is not necessarily being free, Morgana.’
She took another sip of her wine, her brief effort at defiance merely leading her to inadvertently wound him. Her misery returned.
He plucked another sensitive nerve. ‘Do you not wish to be married, Morgana?’
She gave him a pained expression. ‘Do you?’
He averted his gaze. ‘I do. It is a respectable thing to do.’
With effort, she refrained from rolling her eyes. Though he would not look at her, she stared at him, deciding to answer his question truthfully.
‘I have long accepted that no man would want a woman such as me. And I dare say I would chafe at the binds a husband would place on me.’ His eyes darted back to her. ‘But what I cannot understand is why anyone would give up their freedom so readily. I fail to see why respectability has such value to you.’
He reached over and took her hand, the tenderness in the gesture startling her. ‘It is because I have been on the other side. It is why I worry for you, Morgana.’
Nothing was resolved between them, not really, but the warmth in his expression was enough to push her misery aside. She smiled at him. ‘Oh, let us not quarrel, Sloane! Not in this place. The night is so fine.’
The music from the orchestra sounded in her ears, mixing with shouts of revelry. The lights twinkled and the scent of food, spirits, and people filled the air. The orchestra began a new tune and a high, crystalline voice carried in the crisp night air:
Stay not till I learn the way;
How to fib and how betray,
E’er I can my thoughts disguise.
‘Listen,’ Morgana cried.
The voice went on.
Force a blush or roll my eyes.
Take me, take me, some of you,
While
