Chapter Five #2
“But a brothel, Ashley.” Tiffany looked torn between concern and admiration. “That was incredibly dangerous. If anyone had recognized you—”
“I know. But Madam Chloé was actually quite helpful. She gave me advice about how to be more…appealing. How to capture his attention.” Ashley twisted the handkerchief between her fingers.
“And it worked, somewhat. We had dinner together two nights ago, and he seemed genuinely interested in my company. But then he pulled away again, as if he was afraid of getting too close.”
“Because of this Kitty woman?” Tiffany’s expression hardened. “I understand grief, truly I do. But three months… Besides, he needs an heir.”
“Unless he’s determined to keep himself distant,” Courtney said thoughtfully. “Some men build walls around themselves when they’re hurting.”
“He needs an heir,” Tiffany repeated. “This is odd.”
Ashley nodded, grateful her friends understood even if they couldn’t truly fix her situation. “Madam Chloé suggested I return,” she said quietly. “To observe her girls at work, learn how they…how they seduce their clients. She thinks I lack knowledge about the art of enticing a man.”
“Well, that’s certainly true,” Farah said pragmatically. “None of us were properly educated about such matters before marriage. We learned as we went, guided by husbands who actually wanted to teach us.” Her expression softened. “You don’t have that advantage.”
“So what do I do?” Ashley looked at each of her friends in turn. “Do I accept Madam Chloé’s offer? Go back to that establishment and watch women perform for men? It’s scandalous, potentially ruinous if I’m discovered. But I’m so desperate, I’m actually considering it.”
“How would you even manage such a thing?” Courtney asked practically. “You can’t simply walk in the front door.”
“Madam Chloé said she would arrange it,” Ashley explained. “I would come late in the evening, heavily disguised. Come in a secret passage. Stay in the shadows, observe from hidden alcoves. The men wouldn’t know I was there, and they certainly wouldn’t see me.”
“And if something happens and you’re recognized?” Tiffany pressed.
“Then I’m ruined,” Ashley said flatly. “Completely and utterly. The Duke of Blackstone’s wife caught observing prostitutes at their work. The scandal would be enormous.”
The women exchanged glances, some silent communication passing between them. Ashley waited, her heart pounding, for their judgment.
“I think you should go,” Tiffany said finally.
“What?” Ashley stared at her.
“I agree,” Courtney added. “If this Madam Chloé can teach you what you need to know to win your husband’s attention, then it’s worth the risk.”
“But the scandal—” Ashley began.
“Will only happen if you’re caught,” Farah interrupted. “And we’ll make sure you’re not caught. We’ll help you.”
“Help me?” Ashley felt dizzy with disbelief. “You’re actually encouraging me to visit a brothel?”
“We’re encouraging you to fight for your marriage,” Tiffany corrected. “To take control of your own happiness instead of waiting passively for your husband to notice you. That’s what the Sisterhood is about, isn’t it? Women supporting each other, taking charge of our own destinies?”
“Besides,” Farah added with a mischievous grin, “you’ve already taken the most dangerous step by going there once in daylight. Going at night, when everyone’s focused on their own…activities…might actually be safer.”
“And we’ll provide you with an alibi,” Courtney said firmly. “If anyone asks, you spent the entire evening with us, playing cards or discussing our investment portfolio.”
“We’ll help you with your disguise too,” Farah added. “A proper one this time. Different dress, different hair, perhaps even padding to change your figure.”
“I have some theatrical cosmetics,” Courtney offered. “From when Lucien and I attended a masquerade. We can darken your eyebrows, change the shape of your face with shading.”
Ashley looked at her friends—these women who had stood by her through her previous scandal without asking questions, who had welcomed her into their investment group despite society’s censure, who were now offering to help her commit what might be her most outrageous act yet.
“Why would you do this for me?” she asked softly.
“Because you deserve to be happy,” Tiffany said simply. “Because you’ve suffered enough already, and we’re not going to stand by and watch you suffer more.”
“Because we’re the Sisterhood,” Farah added with a fierce smile. “And we take care of our own.”
“And because,” Courtney said, taking Ashley’s hand, “every woman deserves to have a real marriage. Not this half-life you’re living now. If learning from these women can help you claim what should already be yours, then we’ll support you completely.”
Ashley felt tears prick her eyes again, but these were different—born of gratitude rather than despair. “I don’t even know what I’m hoping to learn,” she admitted. “How to be alluring? How to make myself irresistible? It all sounds so…calculated.”
“A marriage such as yours has to be difficult. I fought so hard for my freedom to choose. That’s why I started investing,” Tiffany said with unexpected frankness.
“So, I sympathize. Women are kept na?ve to make men feel important. We’re simply not supposed to acknowledge sex.
But every wife learns how to manage her husband, how to influence him, how to get what she needs from him.
You’re just doing it more directly than most.”
“And frankly,” Farah added, “I find it rather brave. You’re not sitting back accepting your fate. You’re acting.”
“Dangerous, scandalous action,” Ashley pointed out.
“The best kind,” Farah said with a wicked grin.
Despite everything, Ashley felt a laugh bubble up in her throat. “You’re all mad. Absolutely mad.”
“Perhaps,” Courtney agreed. “But we’re your friends, and we want you to be happy. If that means helping you sneak into a brothel to learn how to seduce your own husband, then so be it.”
Ashley took a deep breath, thinking of Raven’s carefully maintained distance, of the children she might never have, of the lonely years stretching ahead if nothing changed.
Then she thought of that moment at dinner two nights ago when he’d looked at her with something like desire in his eyes before pulling away.
He wanted her. She was almost certain of it. He just needed help admitting it to himself.
“When would I go?” she asked quietly.
“Soon,” Tiffany said. “Before you lose your nerve. And before Blackstone finds some new excuse to keep himself distant.”
“Soon,” Courtney suggested. “That gives us time to prepare your disguise properly. And to establish your alibi.”
“We’ll host a card party,” Farah said, warming to the plan. “A proper one that lasts late into the evening. You’ll arrive openly, then slip away at an opportune moment. Return before anyone notices you’re gone.”
“And if Blackstone asks where I’ve been?” Ashley’s voice trembled slightly.
“Then you tell him the truth—that you spent the evening with us,” Tiffany said firmly. “Which you will have done, at least partially. The rest is simply…a private errand that needn’t concern him.”
Ashley looked at each of her friends in turn, seeing their determination, their loyalty, their fierce desire to help her claim the happiness she deserved. They were offering her not just practical assistance, but something more valuable—the courage to take this terrifying step.
“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll do it.”
Her friends erupted in excited chatter, already planning the details of her disguise and the card party that would serve as her cover. And for the first time in three months, Ashley felt a spark of hope kindle in her chest.
“Please don’t tell my sister. Ivy is already filled with guilt that I had to marry Blackstone to save my reputation, and indirectly, hers. This will just distress her.”
“It will be our secret alone.” Tiffany squeezed her hand.
Ashley finally relaxed. She was done waiting passively for her husband to notice her. Done accepting a half-life of polite indifference. If Raven wouldn’t come to her willingly, she would learn every trick necessary to draw him.
Even if it meant stepping into the shadows of London’s underworld to do it.