one different man after another, at the mercy of whatever demands they might make of you. You would not fear to be cast out into the streets. Indeed, you would never want for anything again.’
She frowned slightly and shook her head as if she did not yet understand.
‘I would give you a house, as much money as you need. You would be safe. Protected.’
‘Protected?’ She echoed the word and he saw her eyes widen.
‘We would come to an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial to us both.’
‘You are asking me to be your mistress?’ She gaped at him.
‘If that is what you wish to call it,’ he said.
The silence was tense. From outside the room came the sound of a woman’s giggle and a man’s booted steps receding along the passageway.
He saw the shock so stark and clear upon her face and knew that whatever Arabella had been expecting it had been nothing of this. And just for a minute he thought he saw such a look of sadness in her eyes, of a pain that mirrored the one he had carried in his heart all of these years past, but it was gone so fast that he was not sure if he had imagined it.
‘Arabella,’ he said softly and could not help himself from touching a hand to her arm.
He felt the slight tremor that ran through her body before she snatched her arm away.
‘You think it to be done so very easily?’ she asked. Her tone was cynical and when she raised her face to his again there was the glitter of some strong emotion in her eyes.
‘It can be done easily enough,’ he said carefully. ‘I would pay off Mrs Silver; she would give us no trouble, I assure you.’
He saw her swallow, saw the way she gripped her hands together as if it was such a difficult decision to make.
‘I have come into my father’s title, Arabella. I am a very wealthy man. I would rent you a fine town house, furnish it as you wished. Your every want would be satisfied, your every whim met. I am offering you carte blanche, Arabella.’
‘I understand what you are offering me,’ she said and her voice was cool and her expression unmoving.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Will you give me your answer?’
‘I need time to think,’ she said stiffly. ‘Time to fully consider your offer.’
‘What else can you have to consider?’ He smiled a cynical smile. ‘Have I not covered it all already?’
Her pause was so slight that he barely noticed. A heartbeat of time in which their eyes met across the divide. And there was something in her gaze that was contrary in every way to the strong cold woman standing before him. A flash of misery and hurt and … fear. But as quickly as it had arrived, the moment was gone.
‘Nevertheless, your Grace, I will not give you an answer until I have had some time to think about it.’
Her sullen resolution irked him, as did her whole attitude of contempt. Any other woman in her position would have been eager for such an offer.
‘You may play your games, Arabella, but we both know that whores do as rich men bid, and I am now a very rich man. It is a new day. You have until my return tonight to make your decision. And in the meantime Mrs Silver will be paid so that you are not touched by another. What I have, I hold, Arabella. And what is mine, is mine alone. Be sure you understand that fully.’
Her lips pressed firmer as if she sought to suppress some sharp retort. She slipped his coat from her shoulders and handed it to him.
Dominic donned the rest of his clothing, gave a small bow and left.
And as dawn broke over the city he walked away from Mrs Silver’s House of Rainbow Pleasures, leaving behind its black-clad bedchamber with its dark drawn curtains. But his mind was still on the woman that he had left standing there, with the black silk dress clutched to her breasts.
It was only a few hours later that Arabella made her way up the stairwell of the shabby lodging house in Flower and Dean Street. The early morning spring sunlight was so bright that it filtered through the windows, that the months of winter rain and wind had rendered opaque, and glinted on the newly replaced lock of the door that led from the first landing into her rented room.
The damp chill of the room hit her as soon as she opened the door and stepped over the threshold.
‘Mama!’ The small dark-haired boy glanced up from where he was sitting next to an elderly woman on the solitary piece of furniture that remained within the room, a mattress in the middle of the floor. He wriggled free of the thin grey woollen blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders and ran to greet her.
‘Archie.’ She smiled and felt her heart shift at the sight of his face. ‘Have you been a good boy for your grandmama?’
‘Yes, Mama,’ he answered dutifully. But Arabella could see the toll that hunger and poverty had taken in her son’s face. Already there were shadows beneath his eyes and a sharpness about his features that had not been there just a few days ago.
She hugged him to her, the weight of guilt heavy upon her.
‘I have brought a little bread and cake.’ She emptied the contents of her pocket on to the mattress. Everything was stale as she had pilfered it last night from the trays intended for Mrs Silver’s drawing room. ‘Wages are not paid until the end of the week.’
Arabella split the food into two piles. One pile she sat upon the window ledge to sate their hunger later, and the other she shared between her mother and son.
It broke her heart the way Archie looked at her for permission to eat those few stale slices, his brown eyes filled with a look which no mother should ever have to see in her child.
There was silence while they ate the first slice of bread as if it were a sumptuous feast.
Arabella slipped off her cloak and wrapped it around her mother’s hunched shoulders before sitting down beside her on the edge of the mattress.
‘You are not eating, Arabella.’ Her mother noticed and paused, her hand frozen en route to her mouth, the small chunk of bread still gripped within her fingers.
Arabella shook her head and smiled. ‘I have already breakfasted on the way home.’ It was a lie. But there was little enough as it was and she could not bear to see them so hungry.
The sun would not reach to shine in here until later in the day and there was no money for coal or logs. The room was cold and bare save for the mattress upon which they were now sitting. Empty, just as they had arrived home to find it four days ago.
‘How was the workshop?’ Mrs Tatton carefully picked the crumbs from her lap and ate them. ‘They were satisfied with your work?’
‘I believe so,’ Arabella answered and could not bring herself
