“Surely you will spend the night with us, Miss Smythe?” Mother Wren asked. “Then Pearl will have a fresh start in the morning.”
Coral’s lips curved in a meager smile. “I would not wish to inconvenience you, Mrs. Wren.”
“Oh, it’s not an inconvenience. It’s nearly dark out, and I can’t think it would be safe for two young ladies to travel right now.” Mother Wren nodded toward the window, which was indeed almost black.
“Thank you.” Coral inclined her head.
After they had finished the tea, Anna led Coral up to the room Pearl had been using so that the other woman could wash before supper. She brought some linens and fresh water for the basin and was turning to leave when Coral halted her.
“Mrs. Wren, I wish to thank you.” Coral watched Anna with fathomless pale green eyes. Her expression did not mirror her words.
“It’s nothing, Miss Smythe,” Anna replied. “We could hardly have sent you off to the inn.”
“Of course you could.” Coral’s lips twisted in a sardonic grimace. “But that is not what I speak of. I want to thank you for helping Pearl. She has told me how sick she was. Had you not brought her into your home and cared for her, she would have died.”
Anna shrugged uncomfortably. “Another person would’ve been along in a minute and—”
“And they would have left her there,” Coral interrupted. “Do not tell me anyone would do the same as you. Anyone did not.”
Anna was at a loss for words. Much as she would like to protest Coral’s cynical view of humanity, she knew the other woman was right.
“My sister walked the streets to put food in my mouth when we were younger,” Coral continued. “We were orphaned when she was barely fifteen, and soon thereafter, she was let go from her position as an underhousemaid in a fashionable house. She could have simply let me go to the poorhouse. Without me, she might have found another respectable job, perhaps married and had a family.” Coral’s lips tightened. “Instead she entertained men.”
Anna winced, trying to imagine such a dismal life. Such a total lack of options.
“I have tried to persuade Pearl to let me support her now.” Coral turned her head away. “But you do not want to hear our history. Suffice it to say that she is the only living thing on this earth that I love.”
Anna was silent.
“If there is ever anything I can do for you, Mrs. Wren”—Coral’s queer eyes bored into her—“you have but to name it.”
“Your thanks is enough,” Anna finally said. “I was glad to help your sister.”
“You do not take my offer seriously, I see. But keep it in mind. Anything within my power I will do for you. Anything at all.”
Anna nodded and started out of the room. Anything at all… She paused on the threshold and turned impulsively, before she had time to reconsider. “Have you heard of an establishment called Aphrodite’s Grotto?”
“Yes.” Coral’s expression became opaque. “Yes, and I know the proprietress, Aphrodite herself. I can get you a night or a week of nights at Aphrodite’s Grotto if that is your wish.”
She stepped toward Anna.
“I can get you a night with an accomplished male whore or a virginal schoolboy.” Coral’s eyes widened and seemed to flame. “Famous libertines or ragpickers off the street. One very special man or ten complete strangers. Dark men, red men, yellow men, men you’ve only dreamed of in the black of night, lonely in your bed, snug under your covers. Whatever you long for. Whatever you desire. Whatever you crave. You have only to ask me.”
Anna stared at Coral like a mesmerized mouse before a particularly beautiful snake.
She started to stutter a denial, but Coral waved an indolent hand. “Sleep on it, Mrs. Wren. Sleep on it, and on the morrow give me your reply. Now, if you do not mind, I wish to be alone.”
Anna found herself in the hallway outside her own door. She shook her head. Could the devil assume the guise of a woman?
Because temptation had surely been set before her.
She walked slowly down the stairs, Coral’s seductive offer lodged in her brain. She tried to shake it off, but to her horror, she found that she simply couldn’t. And the more she thought about Aphrodite’s Grotto, the more acceptable it became.
During the night, Anna changed her mind about Coral’s outrageous offer over and over again. She would wake from hazy, ominous dreams to lie debating, only to drift off again into a world where Lord Swartingham was eternally strolling away and she futilely running after. Toward morning, she gave up the pretense of sleep and lay on her back staring sightlessly at the still-dark ceiling. She clasped her hands beneath her chin like a little girl and prayed to God to let her resist this terrible proposition. A virtuous woman should have no trouble resisting, she was sure. A proper lady would never think of sneaking off to the dens of London to seduce a man who had made it abundantly clear that he was not interested in her.
When Anna opened her eyes again, it was daylight. She got up stiffly and washed her face and throat in the chilly water in the basin, then dressed and stole quietly out the door so as not to awaken her mother-in-law.
She went out to her flower garden. Unlike the earl’s garden, hers was small and neat. The crocuses were mostly over now, but some late daffodils remained. She bent to deadhead a daffodil that had stopped blooming. The sight of the tulips in bud momentarily brought peace back to her soul. Then she remembered the earl would be traveling to London today. She squeezed her eyes tight to shut out the thought.
At that moment, she heard a footstep behind her. “Have you made your decision, Mrs. Wren?”
She swiveled and saw a lovely Mephistopheles with pale green eyes. Coral smiled at her.
Anna started to shake her head, but then heard herself say, “I’ll accept your offer.”
Coral’s smile widened into a perfect, mirthless curve. “Good. You may accompany Pearl and me back to London in my carriage.” She gave a low laugh. “This should prove interesting.”
She reentered the cottage before Anna could think of a reply.
“WHOA, THERE,” EDWARD murmured to the bay. He held its head and patiently waited as the horse stomped and mouthed the bit. The bay was often fractious in the morning, and he’d saddled the horse earlier than usual. The sky was only just beginning to brighten to the east.
“Whoa, you old bastard,” he whispered. For the first time, it occurred to him that the horse he was talking to had no name. How long had he owned the bay? A half dozen years now, at least, and he’d never bothered to name him. Anna Wren would scold if she knew.