Courtesan of War

2 - Playing In The Dark

Evening shadows grew large on the street outside my door, and the candles had not yet arrived. I cursed myself for the ill-planning my staff and I had made, knowing very well my parties tended to run late. At best, our surplus afforded us two hours of lighted parley before our guests would be forced to squint through the dark or take their leave. Gratefully, the yule logs were plentiful.

While Tilda and the manservants carried out the finishing touches, Clara attended me in my dressing room. The gown I chose for the gala had been purchased from an importer of French fashion. Specifically, those dresses that had been tossed aside by members of the French court because Emperor Bonaparte forbade them to wear the same dress more than once. The French extravagance provided affordable luxury to some of Britain's elite, of which I considered myself a member. It only required a few alterations to hide the fact that my grand apparel had originated in the courts of the enemy.

"I hope I haven't taken the waist in too much," Clara grumbled as she adjusted my stay. "We don't want you with the vapors."

"Don't be silly, Clara. I have never experienced the vapors, and I don't intend to." I inhaled deeply and released a slow breath. "A wee less tension at the base, please."

With my tea cooling on the saucer, I sat before my looking glass while Clara arranged my hair. I had inherited a colour rarely seen on a modern woman; blonde with heavy highlights of red, although I preferred the term strawberry. While the origin of my parentage would always remain a mystery as far as I was concerned, I appreciated the few unique qualities my ancestry afforded me. My tutor and dear friend, Clementine, referred to these qualities as blessings, which made the circumstance of my non-traditional upbringing seem less disparaging.

As the first coach arrived, I seated myself in the sitting room to await my guests. The fireplace crackled with warmth, casting a sensual glow over the furniture, and I reached across the settee to adjust a vase so it might catch the reflection better. While it was improper to greet my own guests at the door, that did not mean I wasn't terribly intrigued by the practice, and I strained to hear the voices lilting in the foyer.

I recognized the high soprano of Clementine's grandniece, Elizabeth, and the alto most certainly belonged to my tutor. A moment later, Tilda waltzed into the room. "Mistress Clementine Price and her grandniece, Elizabeth Hall."

"Rose Hayes, you look younger each time I see you." Clementine glided smoothly into the room despite the fact she had reached age fifty-seven and suffered arthritic knees.

"You are a vision to aspire to, Clementine." I lifted from my seat to offer a friendly curtsy, inhaling the scent of rose that always accompanied her. The years had been good to my mentor, as had the many benefactors who still considered the retired courtesan their confidant. I had learned early on, there was a lot more to seducing a man than shapely legs and a full bosom.

When I caught Elizabeth staring, I turned to greet her as well. "I am so pleased you could attend this evening, Miss Elizabeth."

"As am I. You look like an angel, Mistress Hayes. I don't care what father says."