Chapter 3
One year later
Caroline had seen Arabella several times since that odd and charged afternoon after she ran away.
Her niece visited her home sometimes. They also kept their promise to write regularly.
She had watched Arabella slowly bloom, because she could call it nothing less, under the slow and patient tutelage of Simone Stanhope.
Not that she’d seen Simone since that day.
But tonight she stood in her niece’s parlor, invited to the new home she had been provided for by her first long-term protector.
The gentleman wouldn’t be there, of course, that would be uncouth.
She expected it would only be herself and Arabella.
And it would be easy to compliment the home she now stood in, because it was lovely.
She poured herself a madeira at the sideboard and was about to take a seat when a voice came from the door.
“I’ll take one of those.”
Caroline froze. She hadn’t heard that voice in a year and yet it was instantly recognizable. She slowly turned and found Simone Stanhope, herself, standing in the parlor door, her gray gaze flowing over Caroline like a waterfall.
“I—yes, of course,” she stammered, and handed over her own glass without thinking before she poured a second one. “Miss Stanhope, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
Simone gave a small smile as she sipped her wine. “Disappointed?”
“Oh, no,” Caroline gasped. “I didn’t mean that.”
“You are too easy to tease, Mrs. Banfield,” Simone said with a laugh.
Caroline’s cheeks burned like fire. “Oh.”
She forced herself to smile and hated that she was so very nervous. Why was she? Just because this woman was so different from herself? Because she made her way in the world doing something that Caroline hated to even think about?
Simone took a seat on Arabella’s settee and gazed up at Caroline like she was appraising her. “Mrs. Banfield. Where is Mr. Banfield?”
Caroline pursed her lips as she chose to sit in a chair across from the settee rather than the couch beside Simone. “I’m certain you already know that answer. I’ve heard from Arabella that the courtesans have a vast network and know all.”
“You make us sound like witches bobbing around our cauldrons in all-knowing wisdom.” Simone leaned forward slightly. “I admit I haven’t done much research into you, Mrs. Banfield.”
There was a twinge of pain at that admission that this woman thought little of her. Of course she did. Caroline was a gnat to her, not someone she needed to know about.
“Dead,” she burst out, and realized that was entirely too blunt. “Mr. Banfield passed a few years ago.”
Simone was drawing her finger around the lip of her glass in a most distracting way. “Are you sorry about that?”
If she had been blunt, it seemed Simone would meet her in kind with her question. “Er. I—he—”
Simone chuckled. “I think you’ve answered. Don’t faint on me, Mrs. Banfield. Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” Caroline responded softly, but she sucked in a deep gulp of air regardless. This entire conversation was getting out of hand. She needed to regain control over it. “How is Arabella? I’ve seen her, of course, but I worry regardless. This is such a different life.”
There was a long pause as Simone gave her an appraising look that made Caroline shift beneath its intensity. No wonder the woman was so sought after, she did force focus.
“Does it follow that it is a worse life, though? Men rule in your world as much as they do ours, Mrs. Banfield. At least Arabella now has a different kind of independence and control.”
Caroline thought that over and hated that it wasn’t wrong.
After all, at Arabella’s age, she’d been trapped in a loveless, cruel marriage with no hope of getting out but for death.
At various points, she hadn’t cared if it was his or her own that set her free.
Once he had finally done exactly that, she had suddenly had money and a home that was hers and only hers.
She never had to please a man again and had made no effort to do so.
Arabella had to please, but she could also walk free in the world. She could, if she were careful and talented like the woman before her seemed to be, even be rich.
“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted at last.
Something in Simone’s expression softened and she added, “She is well, Mrs. Banfield. Arabella adapts beautifully to whatever is thrown her way. I admire that quality enormously, it never came quite so naturally to me, but had to be learned. And Lord Dalrymple is generous.”
Caroline swallowed. “Is that her…her…”
“Her first protector, yes. I thought you knew.”
She hadn’t known. She and Arabella had an unspoken rule that they didn’t discuss the particulars of what she was doing. Did that make her a bad aunt? To keep her world so separate, to support without diving into every detail?
“He’s…he’s very young, isn’t he?” she murmured.
“He is.” Simone tilted her head. “And kind. I insisted on that when I arranged the match. They will learn together and he’ll settle her well, too.”
“You’ve thought of everything.” They stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime and Caroline found herself counting every shade of gray in Simone’s eyes. She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Simone.”
The moment she said it, she slapped a hand to her mouth. She’d been thinking of her as Simone for a long time now, but that was in her head. To be so familiar out loud was another thing entirely.
Those gray eyes had dilated when Caroline said her name and Simone took a long step toward her. Caroline couldn’t breathe in that moment and her arms began to tingle.
“You can call me anything you like,” Simone whispered. “I’ll never tell.”
It felt like the world was spinning and Caroline had no idea what would happen next, but she never got to find out, much to her secret disappointment. Arabella entered the room then and Caroline staggered away a step out of self-preservation.
“Ah, Arabella,” Caroline forced herself to say with a smile as she crossed to her niece and kissed both her cheeks. She drew back and looked her up and down, all the while very aware of Simone’s gaze at her back. “You look a vision.”
It was true. Arabella was bright-eyed and vivacious. As if this life she had strode into was truly the path she had always been meant to take. What a concept.
“Oh, thank you, auntie. And thank you for coming tonight. I see you’ve already met Simone. I’m so glad you finally get to meet each other.”
“Meet?” Simone said with a husky laugh. “Come now, my dear, your aunt and I met last year, when you first came to me.”
Arabella blinked. “Oh, I suppose you did. That time is such a whirlwind, I wasn’t even thinking. It hardly counts, though, does it?”
Caroline bit back a humorless bark of laughter. Sometimes she caught herself thinking of that very afternoon during the most inopportune times. It very much counted for her.
But she didn’t say that. It would be mad to do so. Instead she forced a smile at Simone and said, “I suppose not. I’m certainly looking forward to getting to know Miss Stanhope tonight and hearing all about your beautiful home.”
“Good!” Arabella said with a clap of her hands. “We’ll make this first true meeting a fine one. Come, I was so late in joining you that supper is ready, so why don’t we come to my very pretty dining room and we can have a jolly time tonight.”
Caroline was relieved when Arabella looped her arm through hers and guided her through the door and up the hallway to the dining room.
She had to regather herself. They might, indeed, have a wonderful night.
She hoped they would, for Arabella’s sake as much as her own.
But she had to keep in mind that she had nothing in common with Simone Stanhope except her niece.
And she never would.
Six Months Later
Early 1809
There were few pleasures Simone enjoyed more than a night at Lady Lena’s Salon.
It was a wonderful gathering place where “Lady Lena”, who was actually the bastard daughter of a duke, and her partner…
and lover…Harriet Smith, had built a wonderful place where those of an intelligent bent could gather.
They featured all kinds of speakers on a regular basis from scientists to novelists and poets.
And they also hosted gatherings for those with more specialized interests.
Bird watchers, healing plant horticulturists, aspiring novelists and more.
When Simone found a protector who also enjoyed a night of intellectual stimulation…
or at least put up with that for the promise of a night of physical stimulation afterward…
she always marked the man higher in her book.
Tonight she was with her latest protector, the Marquess of Villiers.
Robert was fine enough, she supposed. Handsome to look at, generous with his funds, not terrible in bed. He’d do for a while.
She turned toward him and smiled up into his angled face. “Are you looking forward to hearing Mr. Donovan read his works?”
Robert’s face fluttered with just a hint of boredom and he shrugged. “Poetry has never been my interest, my dear. I’m sure he’s a fine enough wordsmith, though.”
“Indeed, he is,” she said, and gripped his elbow a bit tighter. “Very romantic.”
She batted her eyelashes as she emphasized the word and his eyes widened with understanding. Good, that should keep him from complaining and let her enjoy her night.
He glanced toward the entryway into the parlor and his interest in her waned as he said, “Ah, there’s Jenkins. I haven’t seen him in an age.”
She followed his gaze so she could feign interest in his friends, but what she saw at the door made her breath go short. There was a man who had entered, the one Robert had recognized, but behind him was Caroline Banfield.