CHAPTER 1
Miss Agatha Woodville froze mid-step as she hurried from the room, her mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her younger sisters and their modest household. Their father’s gambling debts had already cost them much, but when he staggered home last night with the news that he had lost everything, their fragile world collapsed. The dread in her father’s eyes had stolen Agatha’s sleep, and now, as morning light filtered through the drapes, she was bleary-eyed and desperate for a few hours of rest.
Her stepmother, Gloria, had come to Agatha a few minutes ago, saying a man had come to collect the debt. She had been tasked with discreetly eavesdropping on the conversation between him and her father. Agatha pressed her ear against the wooden door, straining to catch every word.
“I have three daughters,” her father said, his voice weak with shame. “They are all lovely girls ...”
“Oh?” the man drawled. “How does this supposed loveliness cover the eighty pounds you owe, Mr. Wright?”
Eighty pounds was a fortune! How could her father dare to gamble with such a sum?
“Was it so much?”
The low chuckle from the other man was derisive. “That is only the principal.”
“One of my daughters …”
“One of your daughters what?”
Her father hesitated, his voice dropping to a mutter. “Everyone knows Mr. Wright is part owner ofAphrodite. My daughter, Maggie, can ... work the debt off there.”
Agatha’s heart squeezed.Maggie?Her sweet, innocent sixteen-year-old sisterspent most days with her nose buried in a book she had read dozens of times. Maggiedreamed of becoming a premier modiste, designing gowns for actresses on the grand stages of the theatre. Not working in London. What was her father on about? “Come now,” the man replied smoothly, “we both know there’s only one kind of work your daughter could do atAphroditeto clear that debt in a year. Are you truly willing to send her there to earn it ... on her back?”
Agatha’s breath caught.On her back?Her breath hitched, panic welling up inside her. She pushed her trembling hand against her mouth, stifling a gasp. It couldn’t be. Her father wouldn’t do that. Not to Maggie. Not to any of his children. Perhaps she had misunderstood, and the whispers she often overheard in the tavern didn’t carry the same meaning as this man’s words.
“If that’s what needs to be done,” her father said, his voice thin with defeat, “then it must be done.”
Agatha could no longer stay hidden. Fury burned inside her chest, and she burst through the door before she could think better of it. Both men looked up, startled by her sudden appearance. The stranger’s eyes widened when they landed on her, his lips curling into a smile. Though dressed respectably, something in his gaze made Agatha uneasy. He seemed cold and calculating.
“By God,” he breathed, his gaze raking over her as if she were a prize on display. “She’sstunning. You’ve been hiding a gold mine, Woodville, youfool.”
Ignoring the man, Agatha directed her attention to her father. “What kind of work are you proposing for Maggie?” Her father’s face reddened, and his gaze slid to the floor.
“Look at me, Papa!” Agatha demanded, her voice quivering. “What do you mean she would need to earn it on her back?”
He remained silent, unable to meet her regard. A terrible, choking pressure formed in her chest. “How can you even consider this? Maggie has only turned sixteen this month. How could you think of sending her away to cover your failings?”
The stranger interjected with a sly smile. “Is Maggie as lovely as this one? Because if not, she won’t do.”
“Do?” Agatha turned on him, anger blazing in her heart. “You will speak plainly what you want my sister to do!”
The man’s smirk remained. “To work in one of Mr. Wright’s pleasure palaces, of course. Until the debt is cleared.”
Agatha’s stomach lurched.A pleasure palace. She recalled the sly propositions directed her way and the coarse laughter of men sharing secrets they assumed no one else could hear. A woman earning a living on her back was hardly a euphemism for anything honorable. “Do you mean ... abrothel?”
His silence spoke volumes. She stumbled back and collapsed onto the threadbare sofa behind her, the cushions beneath her feeling more unforgiving than ever. The room seemed to spin as she tried to catch her breath.
“This is madness,” she whispered. “I will not send my sister to do something so vile and beneath her dignity. How do you even think it, Papa?How?”
The man’s eyes gleamed. “Then perhaps you’ll go in her place. Mr. Wright’s debts must be paid, one way or another.”
“No!” her father shouted, his voice cracking with despair. “Not Aga! She’s to be married. A respectable young man has asked for her hand ...”
Agatha curled her hands into tight fists. Her engagement had been little more than an arrangement of convenience. Mr. David Trenton was a schoolmaster in their village and had been sweet to her for the last few months. She had taken a few walks with him and had even attended a country dance in the public rooms of the village square, where he had danced with her three times. That was enough to send everyone in their small town to start talking about a wedding and their future children.
Agatha found David good-natured and pleasant but felt no rousing emotions or excitement whenever she thought of spending the rest of her life with him. Her stepmother had counseled that they needed more help and that love would grow. Trusting in those reassurances, Agatha informed him she would marry him.
“Is that true?” the man asked, staring at her.
