Once a Courtesan (Once Wicked Book 2)

by Liana Lefey

  “I’m sure she will. Have you found a replacement for Mrs. Farrow?”

  A sigh of frustration escaped her. “I have not. I shall continue to post the position.”

  “Do what you must.” He bowed. “Until next we meet.”

  Dropping a curtsy, she bid him good night and returned to the girls. “The hour is late, and tomorrow begins early,” she said, giving them her gentlest smile and motioning for them to rise. “Come. Katie will show you to the bath and fetch you something clean to wear.”

  The younger one’s eyes took on a rebellious light. “But I just ’ad a bath last—”

  “Just do it, Abi,” grumbled her sister, nudging her toward the door. “I ’ad to take one every few days while ’is Lordship looked for you. You’ll be likin’ it after a while.”

  As she watched them follow Katie out, Jacqueline’s heart lightened despite her exhaustion.

  Two more saved.

  Chapter Two

  Will peered over the top of his spectacles at the shiny brass plaque by the door. La Belle School for Young Ladies. This is the place. Reaching up, he lifted the knocker and rapped it against the plate.

  A few moments later, the door opened to reveal a dour-faced, matronly woman. “Good morning, sir. Are you here concerning the textbooks?”

  “Good morning, madame. Alas no, I’m not. I’m here in answer to the advertisement in the Gazette.” Taking a paper from the portfolio beneath his arm, he held it out and pointed to the pertinent ad, which he’d circled.

  The woman’s lips pursed as if she’d tasted something unpleasant, and for a moment he thought she might close the door in his face. Instead, she opened it wide and stepped aside. “You may wait here while I fetch Headmistress,” she said, gesturing to a bench in the foyer. “I’ll be a few minutes,” she said briskly as she walked toward a door at the far end. “She’s currently teaching a class.”

  Sitting, he took in his surroundings. The floor was spotless, and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found on any surface in sight. A quarter of an hour passed without event. Just as he was about to start looking for someone, he heard voices, and the door opened.

  “…and tell Katie to be certain they don’t overcharge her.” The owner of the warm, French-accented voice was blocked from view by the stout matron who’d shown him in. “Anything above three shillings is robbery,” she continued. “If they want more, she’s to tell them we will buy from somewhere else.”

  “Yes, Headmistress.”

  Will did a double take and had to work hard not to show his astonishment as the other woman emerged. She’s the headmistress? He’d expected some stone-faced, gray-haired old ironside, not a young brunette with big hazel eyes and a figure to make a man’s pulse dance a merry jig—which his was doing now. He rose to greet her.

  “Monsieur, please accept my apologies for keeping you waiting,” she said, coming forward. “I am Madame Trouvère, the headmistress of this school.”

  It took him several seconds to locate his tongue and make it work. “Mr. William Woodson at your service,” he replied, bowing. The false surname felt all wrong on his tongue, but Danbury was far too risky a name, being too well known in certain parts of town.

  She regarded him with open wariness. “Mrs. Sloane tells me that despite the stated preference for a woman, you wish to inquire concerning our advertisement for a mathematics instructor.”

  “Yes. Though it was put in terms of preference rather than as a requirement.” He gave her his most disarming smile, the one that had never failed to charm even the dourest matron. “You’ll pardon, I hope, my pointing out that the advertisement has been in the Gazette for nearly two months. I was interested when I first saw it and would have come sooner, but I was unable to leave my previous employer until now.”

  “And who was your previous employer?”

  “Lord Mulgrave. I taught his children for seven years.” Opening his portfolio once more, he fished out a neatly folded piece of parchment and offered it to her. “I have here his letter of reference.” Their fingers brushed as she took it, and an unanticipated tremor ran through him, both pleasant and unnerving.

  She opened it and at once began to read. “You will understand, of course, if I wish to confirm this,” she murmured without looking up.

  It was a statement, not a question. “Of course.” He tried not to show dismay over her unwillingness to take it at face value. Most people didn’t question a reference letter bearing both a signature and seal. “Do feel free to write to His Lordship. I’m certain he’ll reply with great enthusiasm. I’ve other references as well, if you would like to see them.”

  “I would. From what educational institute did you graduate?”

  “Kings. With honors.”

  Still perusing the page, she nodded. “Provided your references can be verified, when would you be able to start working?”

  At last. “I need but a few days to move my things here.”

  Her head snapped up. “Here?”

  “The advertisement did say lodging would be provided, in addition to a monthly wage of eleven pounds.” He waited, trying not to show anxiety over her reaction.

  A flush tinged her cheeks, betraying embarrassment—and, unless he mistook her expression, no small amount of alarm. “Again, I must offer my apologies, monsieur. Our policy allows for only female residents. However, in addition to your wages, I can offer a reasonable stipend to pay for lodgings. I can even give you a worthy recommendation for a house within convenient walking distance.”

  “I see.” All too clearly. Damn. “Then I’ll need to know whether the position is mine as soon as possible—to give me adequate time to arrange accommodations.”

  “Of course,” she agreed. “I will notify you by the end of next week.”

  He could only nod assent, though it put rather an unfortunate kink in his plans. It would’ve been far easier to conduct an investigation if he were living here.

  Her low, husky voice, so unlike the high-pitched twitter affected by many women, interrupted his disappointed ruminations. “Would you like a tour of the school?”

  His sharp eyes missed nothing as his guide led him through the building, but all they saw were neatly groomed, happy little girls and an establishment that reflected the headmistress’s brisk and efficient demeanor. Everything was in perfect order from the scullery to the rafters. If anything nefarious were going on here, it was well concealed.

  Sir Gonson was either mistaken or the ugliness was buried deep. By the time the tour was over and they’d settled in the dining hall for a cup of tea, Will was sure she was hiding something. Not because of anything overt on her part; it was more of a gut feeling.

  Madame Trouvère was prim, proper, and respectable—and just a little too stiff to be true. No woman that bloody attractive—he couldn’t deny it—was unaware of her effect on men. Women like her used their beauty like a weapon to disarm, charm, and distract. Yet she hadn’t so much as fluttered her lashes at him.

  Instinct told him she was being extremely cautious. It would take time to get her to drop her guard. Lord Mulgrave had been happy to accommodate Gonson’s request for assistance in this matter. All his references would check out, should the woman actually attempt to verify them. As thorough as she seemed to be, Will suspected she would.

  His hostess peered at him over the rim of her cup with frank curiosity. “Tell me, monsieur, do you really think you would be comfortable being the only gentleman in my employ?”

  He answered first with a laugh and a shrug. “I don’t see why not. Of my parents’ eight children, I’m the youngest and the only male.” He’d had little choice but to learn how to cope with the mercurial female temperament. “I’ve visited several other educational institutes,” he went on, changing the subject. “Never have I seen one as well-maintained as this. And you say it was established a mere two years ago?”

  Madame Trouvère was clearly unimpressed by his flattery. “Indeed. But please don’t credit me solely fo
r what you have seen. It is only through the excellence of my staff that such achievements have been possible. Everyone here is dedicated to our purpose, which is to impart knowledge to each student and cultivate in them the wisdom required to live a successful life.”

  “A fine distinction.”

  “And an important one,” she replied. “Knowledge is purely academic, while wisdom comes from experience. We strive to give our girls both, in order to better prepare them for the challenges they will face in the outside world.”

  “Your pupils are lucky their parents discovered such a fine institution.” Draining the last of his tea, he sighed. “It was a wrench to leave Lord Mulgrave’s service. For seven years his house has been my home. But I know I shall enjoy working here.”

  “If you are selected for the position, I hope it to be so.”

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, Danbury. “Forgive my presumption. I beg you to attribute it to the strength of my desire to work here.” Again he smiled. “I’m afraid the optimist in me is rather incorrigible.”

  “I hope you retain your positive outlook throughout life, monsieur.” Standing, she dusted the crumbs off her skirt. “You must excuse me for rushing our interview, but I have a class to teach in half an hour and must prepare for it.”

  He stood and bowed. “Of course, Headmistress.”

  As they made their way back to the foyer, they encountered two children being shepherded along by a harried-looking woman. None of the trio offered greetings to either him or the headmistress, and neither did she offer one to them. As they passed, the older girl glanced up at him with round, terrified eyes.

  Every sense went on alert. He forced himself not to look back and instead concentrated on committing their faces to memory.

  Madame Trouvère’s parting farewell a moment later was genial, but he sensed an underlying urgency in it. She was fidgety, distracted—and the change had occurred the moment those two girls had appeared. Should he manage to secure this position, they were definitely on the list of people with whom he wished to speak.

  “I’ll look for your message next week,” he said cheerily as he crossed the threshold.

  A tight smile answered his statement, and then the door closed.

  It could have gone much worse, I suppose. The moment he entered the confines of his hired carriage, he plucked the spectacles off his nose and stowed them carefully in his pocket. Damned annoying things, but they did make him appear more studious.

  Arriving at Sir Gonson’s house just after noon, he waited to be summoned into his employer’s office. Justice of the peace for the city of Westminster, Gonson was a gentleman of unimpeachable morals, one of only a few he knew in this age of depravity and injustice. It was a privilege to serve under the man.

  Father would have been proud…

  The footman returned. “Constable? He’ll see you now.”

  Will rose and went to report on his success—or so he hoped it would be.

  …

  With great effort, Jacqueline stilled trembling hands. She’d told Katie to keep their new arrivals out of sight! She thanked the Lord they had not spoken. One of the first things new pupils were taught was how to speak properly so as not to give away their origins and thereby endanger themselves and everyone else.

  Mr. Woodson appeared to be an unassuming man of good morals, but she wasn’t ready to explain to him the true nature of her school—especially when he hadn’t yet been offered the position. She wanted to know him better before entrusting him with such knowledge.

  That he’d expected to be granted quarters in the school made her question for a moment his intelligence, but she supposed it was an honest misunderstanding. After all, had he not lived in Lord Mulgrave’s house for seven years? Mulgrave, if she recalled, had a son and six daughters. Still, for the sake of her comfort and that of her girls, she preferred to have him live elsewhere and was willing to pay for it.

  Am I really going to allow a male teacher in my school? Not all men were wicked. Lord Tavistoke claimed to have been a wicked man in the past, but she had difficulty believing it. Even if he spoke the truth, she could judge him only by his actions since meeting him. As for Woodson, had there been another option she would’ve turned him away summarily, but there were simply no other candidates.

  Going to her office, she penned a note to Tavistoke, enclosing with it Mr. Woodson’s letters of confidence. He’d be able to verify the man’s claims—hopefully by Friday. If not, Woodson would simply have to wait. She’d sooner be damned than put her girls at risk.

  He was certainly an observant fellow. She’d marked the way his eyes had searched each room, lingering in places she wouldn’t expect to be of interest to a mathematics instructor. It was almost as if he was searching for something.

  Don’t be ridiculous. Such paranoia was the result of living a life that revolved around the keeping of secrets—her past, the past of each and every child in this school, and even those of some of her staff.

  Moira, the school’s seamstress, had fled a husband who’d beaten her nearly to death. Sally, the new kitchen maid, had sought refuge after her stepfather had cruelly abused her. Jane, who taught the girls their letters and coached them in diction, had been wrongly imprisoned. By the time her innocence was proven, her family had disowned her.

  They were but a few of those whose lives hinged upon her ability to keep secrets.

  Sealing the letter, Jacqueline made ready to continue the process of integrating Fanny and Abigail. The first week was always the hardest. It was an adjustment for everyone.

  As she turned the packet over in her hands, she again pictured Mr. Woodson, recalling his tall, trim form, twilight blue eyes, and shy smile. There was nothing remotely threatening about the man. He was the sort of gentleman to put any lady at ease—so why did he make her so nervous? Tavistoke was a far more intimidating specimen, yet she was perfectly comfortable in his company.

  But you don’t find Tavistoke attractive. Woodson, on the other hand… The realization that she found him appealing came as a shock. How long had it been since she’d thought a man handsome or, heaven help her, desirable?

  Desire is for women with prospects and fools without caution. I am neither. Annoyed with herself, she put him out of her mind. She had important business to attend and no time for nonsensical musings.

  Sending the packet off with instructions, Jacqueline went to see Fanny and Abigail. Though a four-year gap separated the sisters, she’d like to keep them together for as long as possible. A frightened child was less receptive to instruction, and she wanted them both to feel safe and secure. Separating them now would only hinder progress.

  First, she’d focus on Fanny. The girl had a strong sense of responsibility to her little sister, which would be to the benefit of both. She’d be quick to pass on her knowledge to Abigail, who would in turn absorb it much faster from a trusted source. At fourteen, it was imperative the older girl learn as quickly as possible.

  The door to their temporary quarters was open. “Good morning, girls.”

  “G’morning, miss—I mean ’eadmistress,” said Fanny. Glancing down at her sister, she poked her.

  “G’morning, ’eadmistress,” echoed Abigail.

  Jacqueline nodded approval. “I saw you earlier with Katie. Did you get to see some of the school?”

  Both nodded enthusiastically. “Miss Katie ’ad to take us to the laundry,” said Fanny. “Abi spilled milk all down ’er front, an’ she ’ad to find summat clean for ’er to wear.”

  Already, their demeanor is less suspicious. She’d seen this sort of transformation dozens of times. Give them a week of good meals, undisturbed slumber, and some new friends, and everything would be different. “When asked a question, the proper response is ‘yes, Headmistress’ or ‘no, Headmistress,’ and then you may elaborate,” she said, smiling to take the sting out of the correction. “Now, first we will go to your new room and meet the two girls with whom you will share it. Afterward, I shall take yo
u to comportment class.” Faces fell, and she laughed. “It sounds more dreadful than it is, I promise.”

  “’oo was that man we saw—the one what looked at us funny?” asked Fanny.

  So, I was not the only one to notice. “That gentleman has applied for a teaching position here.”

  Confusion puckered her charge’s young brow. “I thought there was only girls allowed ’ere?”

  “Ah, yes.” She repressed a sigh of frustration. “Although in the past it has been my policy to employ only female teachers, mathematics instructors are quite scarce among our sex. Therefore, I’m considering him. But you need not be concerned, ma petite. If hired, he won’t actually live at the school.”

  Fanny’s shoulders eased down.

  With a start, Jacqueline realized her choice had already been made, pending verification of the references. It wasn’t as if she had a more palatable alternative. Only two others had applied, one a woman with falsified references, the other a man who’d looked at her with openly lecherous intent. When presented against such candidates, Mr. Woodson appeared to be the far lesser evil.

  Please don’t let him be another charlatan!

  “Now,” she continued, pacing. “There are a few rules to ensure the safety of everyone here, including yourselves.” Briefly, she explained her expectations of conduct as well as the need for secrecy regarding their past. “You are not to discuss your former lives, not even with each other, lest someone overhear. If you need to talk to someone, let it be me. Anything you say in confidence will go no further than my ears.”

  “But what if they asks us?” inquired Fanny.

  She’s a sharp one, to be sure. “You will be taught how to deal with inquisitive people.” Beginning now. Folding her hands, she stopped in front of the girls. “Fanny, how do you think a prospective employer would react upon learning you are the daughter of a prostitute?”

  Her inquiry went unanswered.

  She knows when to remain silent. Her next statement was a harsh one, but it must be said. “They would never hire you—no matter your innocence, your education, or if you’d been raised in a ‘decent’ establishment. Your origin alone is enough to cause others to judge you and deem you unworthy. For this reason, as well as to prevent any dangerous past acquaintances learning their whereabouts, most of the girls here have changed their names. If you wish, you may also do this.”