A Regency era courtesan gives up her empire for love and discovers how binding her connections truly are to the noblemen she used to serve.
*****
In the sequel to Courte...
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~ Wednesday April 28, 1813 ~
The duke's possessions began arriving shortly after breakfast. Two trunks of clothes and a carriage full of collectibles. I was grateful that Clara and Douglas had been in his employ before I arrived, because they knew just what to do with everything, and the foyer did not remain cluttered for long.
A bellman showed up during the mayhem, delivering two missives. One from Odette Ziani, who agreed to meet Mister Morrisey the coming Friday, and the other from Sheldon Merriweather, my dear friend's brother who worked at the London Chronicle. His excitement to meet me at his office at my earliest convenience came across in his hurried script, and I took it as a hopeful sign he might have a job for me. The trick would be arranging the meeting around dinner with the Thompsons.
I decided to make the trip to the chronicle prior to dinner and hope the timing worked out. When I arrived at the front desk, the secretary behaved as if I were some sort of noble, escorting me promptly to office of Sheldon Merriweather, lead journalist for human interest stories.
Popping out of his seat, Mister Merriweather greeted me before the secretary had an opportunity to make introductions. "Mistress Hayes! I am pleased you attended me so quickly. Come. Sit. Take comfort."
I took a seat across the desk from my host, whose excitable manner seemed somewhat out of character for him, although I had only made his acquaintance once. "I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me regarding a position at the chronicle," I said. "I must admit, your eager greeting gives me hope."
He grinned, forcing dimples into his plump cheeks. "Oh, my request has nothing to do with a position here at the chronicle. But it does involve work. And I suspect it will equate to a good amount of compensation should your contributions prove successful."
"Hmm. You have me intrigued. Pray, what is this work you speak of?"
He leaned conspiratorially over his desk, although our privacy had been secured through the closed door. "Are you familiar with The Dandy Gentleman's Periodical?"
A flood of heat hit my cheeks at the mention of the brazen publication. In spite of my open-minded nature, I was not so eager to learn about this well-compensated work he promised. "I do not read the periodical, but I am familiar with its focus."
"Then you know how popular it is with modern gentlemen. Particularly, the forum section, where acts of a tantalizing nature are written out in fiction form." He chuckled as he reclined in his chair. "Goodness, Mistress Hayes. Are you blushing?"
His observation could not be denied. My mind was already creating scenarios where I might be involved in this tantalizing foray. "Please, sir. Explain how I might find work with this publication."
I quickly tried to imagine young dandies learning about modern fashions and fancy toiletries; something I could certainly provide an experienced opinion on. But he dashed those hopeful thoughts with his cheeky smile.
