shook his head, looking contemptuous. ‘Be sensible, Morgana.’
Sensible? That was the last thing she could be right now. She could taste tears in the back of her throat. ‘Do you wish to hear more, Sloane? I have decided to join my girls. I will set up a business for myself. I am quite convinced it is the sort of life I would desire.’
Amy gasped.
Sloane grabbed Morgana’s arm. ‘You are not serious!’
Of course she was not serious. She was merely brokenhearted and trying so desperately not to reveal it.
‘I assure you, I am quite serious.’ This time his grasp was so firm she could not pull away.
The carriage came to a stop and Sloane turned to Amy. ‘Go on, Miss Jenkins. Miss Hart will be along directly.’
Amy scurried out of the carriage.
He turned back to Morgana and shook her. ‘I do not believe you, Morgana.’
‘I do not care what you believe, Sloane.’ Morgana was near hysteria now. ‘Do you think I wish to lead a life as dull as my cousin Hannah’s?’ She made herself laugh. ‘Oh, no. I desire excitement. I want to attract as many men as Harriette Wilson. I can do it, too.’
‘Do not be foolish.’ He was so close that her nostrils filled with the scent of him. She could almost taste his lips upon hers.
‘Do you not think I am able?’ Her voice wobbled.
‘I think you are being absurd.’ His face was inches away.
‘Harriette taught us well. I made you come to me, even though you have barely spoken to me for a month.’ Her breath quickened.
‘You did not.’
‘I can make you kiss me, too,’ she added.
He gaped at her. She lifted her eyes to his and slowly circled her mouth with her tongue. Then she parted her lips and closed her eyes.
She felt him crush her against him and press his lips to hers, tasting her as hungrily as if he were a man starved of food. She returned the kiss, every bit as ravenous, ignoring Harriette’s admonition about withholding her tongue. She wanted to fully savour him. One final time.
He abruptly drew her away from him. ‘Leave me, Morgana. Leave me now, before I do something we both will regret.’
‘I won’t regret it,’ she murmured, lost in the sensation of him. She kissed him again.
His hand rubbed up and down her back and circled around to her breast. She sighed, relishing the touch, wanting him to reach inside her dress, wanting to feel his hand upon her bare skin.
Instead, he pulled away. ‘No, Morgana.’ He opened the carriage door. He climbed out and extended his hand to her. She quickly straightened her dress and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. She took his hand, but only for as long as it took to climb out of the vehicle. Without waiting to see what he would do next, she ran to her door and took refuge inside her house.
Sloane signalled the coachman to stable the horses, then slowly walked to his own door. How could something he wanted so desperately go so far awry? He barely refrained from jerking the door open and slamming it behind him. His footman jumped to his feet at his abrupt entrance. With only a nod to the man, Sloane tore up the stairs, still on fire for Morgana and furious at her for playing the coquette. If she acted like that with another man—a thought that made him see red—she’d indeed ruin herself. Did she not know that, once lost, she would never get her reputation back? A man might be forgiven his passionate indulgences, but never a woman.
His valet shot out of his chair nearly as high as had the footman. ‘Go!’ shouted Sloane.
As the man nearly tripped in his hurry to get out the door, Sloane scoured the drawers and cabinets, finally finding where his man had put his brandy. Not bothering with a glass, he drank directly from the bottle.
The next day proved that Morgana, Amy and Miss Moore were excellent costumers. With fabric hurriedly purchased at the linen drapers, the older woman and the young maid had fashioned each girl an alluring outfit according to Morgana’s design, complete with identity-disguising masks. The costumes were simple, draped gowns, all in classical white and fashioned with fabric attached to their arms so as to resemble wings. Their masks were created from white silk trimmed with feathers. The girls were garbed as the Sirens of Greek myth, winged creatures whose singing lured sailors to their doom. For their début into the world of courtesans, Harriette Wilson had arranged for them to enter the Argyle ballroom as a group, singing a song, with Rose as the soloist. It would be a grand entrance.
Morgana planned a quieter entrance for herself in the Argyle Rooms. She would dress in a voluminous gold domino she had found in an attic trunk. It came with a matching gold mask to further disguise her identity. No matter what she had declared to Sloane, she meant to attend the ball merely as a spectator, to watch her fledglings take their first flight. After this night she would see them set up in rooms of their own. She would pay the expenses, of course, until enough money came in from gentlemen. But whenever she thought that far in advance, a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
It was time to leave for the masquerade. She joined the girls in the hall, where a thin-lipped Cripps stood to assist them.
Katy’s spirits were so high, it was a surprise that her feet touched the floor. Miss Moore, who never in her life expected to be dressed in a grey domino bound for a masquerade, was nearly as excited as Katy. Mary, Rose, and Lucy were more subdued. They waited for Robert Duprey and Madame Bisou to collect them in one hackney coach and Mr Elliot in another.
‘Remember,’ Morgana whispered to the girls out of Cripps’s hearing. ‘You are not to give yourselves to any gentleman this night. You are a far more valuable commodity than to sell yourself to the first bidder. Recall what Miss Wilson said. Let the gentlemen pine for you.’
Her words turned sour in her mouth. Her girls were not objects to be sold at auction, but young women as dear to her as sisters would be. But everything had gone too far to turn back now.
Mary, Rose and Lucy gave solemn nods. Katy laughed.
Morgana tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Katy, did you hear what I said?’
The girl made a valiant attempt to look sober. ‘Yes, Miss Hart. I am too valuable to be sold this first night!’
Morgana winced.
‘The coaches are outside!’Amy called from the drawing-room window. She rushed over to give her sister a tearful goodbye. Lucy clung to her, looking anything but gay at the parting.
Mr Duprey and Mr Elliot soon were admitted into the hall and the girls sorted themselves into some order. As they left the house, Morgana refused to consider what the neighbours might think if they spied them all leaving at this hour of the night. By plan none of them had donned their masks yet, but anyone might guess they were off to a masquerade, the masquerade everyone knew about.
Morgana only truly cared what Sloane thought, if he gave it any thought at all. She’d seen him go out earlier in the day and had not seen him return. He must have gone to the musicale where Hannah and her parents would be. Morgana had refused her aunt’s obligatory invitation to go with them.
