Page 44 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
“Oh, you have done very well for yourself, Sara,” she said. “Very well.” Madame nodded wisely at Chastity Palmer. “I always knew the girl would never end up a common whore.”
“There was never anything common about any of my children,” Chastity said loftily.
“You were a credit to my house once, Sara Palmer.” The brothel owner gave a sentimental sigh. “The bishop of Barnwell still asks after you.”
“Does he indeed?” Sara gave a dismissive shrug as she set her parcel on the table, but she could not help remembering. The bishop had been her first lover. How very strange. Out of all themen she had had, the two who had been best in bed had been his holy eminence and that devil Mandell.
Still, Sara had no wish to indulge in such reminiscences. Unlike her mother, she preferred to put the past behind her. She felt grateful when neither of Chastity’s guests elected to linger long. Mr. Haythorpe was going to require some help negotiating the stairs.
Both Chastity and Madame Dubonnet followed him through the door of the flat to make sure he did not fall and break his neck. While awaiting her mother’s return, Sara removed her cloak and bonnet.
Even though she knew it was useless, she could not help strolling about the flat’s single large room, straightening the cushions on the worn settee, wiping dust off the oil lamp, picking Chastity’s nightgown off the floor.
Sara started to return it to the curtained alcove where Chastity kept her bed. But as she brushed the drapery aside, she was stayed by the sound of soft snoring, the sight of a large bulk beneath the covers of the bed, a pair of glossy black boots tossed carelessly on the rug.
It seemed she had been too optimistic. Mum had one more guest after all, and Sara had no desire for an introduction. Sara let the curtain fall, draping Chastity’s nightgown over the back of one of the chairs.
Chastity bustled back into the room, breathless and laughing. “I declare! That Bill Haythorpe! I’ve never known any man to get so easily foxed. Just wave a cup of stout beneath his nose and he’s under the table.”
“He’s an old drunkard, Mum. I don’t know how you can encourage him to hang about or that Madame Dubonnet. I should think you would want to forget that we ever had any connection to her or her house.”
“Betty is an old friend, Sara, and Mr. Haythorpe is a kind, generous man. It was him as apprenticed your brother Davy into a profitable trade.”
“As a resurrectionist? Stealing and selling dead bodies!”
“It’s nice steady work, miss.”
“If Davy were not so lazy, if he had an ounce of ambition in that thick head of his?—”
“Now don’t you be so hard upon my poor little man. Davy is a good boy, so he is. He looks after his poor old mama.”
Sara rolled her eyes but held her tongue. She had never been fond of her younger brother David, finding him both shiftless and underhanded. But it was useless arguing with her mother on that point. Besides, Chastity’s last comment about how well David looked after her had been a broad hint, Mum’s gaze fixing upon the parcel Sara had brought.
Sara handed her the package and Chastity pounced upon it as greedily as a small child. Chastity cooed with delight over the tea, the pound of coffee, the chocolates, and sundry other delicacies. But what pleased her most was the box of cigars. Mum had acquired a taste for the nasty things from one of her lovers who had been a sea captain.
As Chastity examined the last of Sara’s offerings, several new pairs of knit stockings, Sara reached for her reticule. She fished around inside, drawing forth a small wad of pound notes.
“I am sorry I could not bring you as much as I usually do,” Sara said. “Since my parting from the marquis I have had to be more careful with my funds.”
“Ah, don’t you fret, babe.” As she took the money, Chastity reached out to give Sara a motherly pat on the cheek. “Things will come out all right. So that wretch of a man left you. You’ll find a new love soon enough.”
Sara started to reply, then closed her mouth. It was of no use trying to explain to Chastity that Mandell had never beenher love or that it had been Sara who had broken off the relationship. Mum would never understand whistling such a handsome and wealthy lover down the wind any more than she would understand Sara’s yearning to be a real lady, to achieve a noble marriage.
“I am sure I will come about in time,” Sara said. “But I worry about you, Mum, about being able to bring you enough. I don’t want you feeling hard-pressed or thinking that you have to go back to Madame Dubonnet’s.”
“Lordy, child, as if I would ever have to do that if I didn’t want to!” Chastity daintily tucked the money inside the bosom of her gown and gave a proud toss of her head. “Your Mum still possesses a few resources of her own, you know. Besides, you forget I have two strong sons to care for me.”
“But that is the other reason I came here today, to tell you Gideon had to leave London, perhaps for quite awhile.”
“Oh, er—yes. Poor Gideon. Traveling on that horrid stage up north. I have only my little Davy left now.”
“How did you know where Gideon went’?” Sara asked sharply. “I just sent him off yesterday and I gave him no chance to come back here,”
“Well.” Chastity moistened her lips. “I expect I heard it from Davy. Yes, Davy. He just happened to be at the inn, spying upon you. You know what a rogue he can be sometimes.”
Giving a nervous laugh, Chastity’s gaze flicked toward the curtained alcove and guiltily away again. Sara stiffened. Her mother had the most transparent features imaginable.
Sara swore. How could she have been so stupid when she peeked behind the curtain before? The glossy boots should have been familiar as the snoring, the huddling down beneath bedcovers pretending to be asleep. It was one of the oldest tricks of their childhood. Compressing her lips, Sara stalked toward the alcove.
