She was speaking so quickly that Hannah wasn’t sure she’d understood half of this, but one part certainly made an impression.
Mr. Corbyn.I know him.That was the friend of Eli’s who’d come by the house the other day. The extremely handsome one. She’d fled from the room to avoid giving Mama any ideas, but not before she’d had a good look.
Hannah wasn’t sure she could face him again. Much as she hated talking to the thoroughly unattractive gentlemen that were trotted out for her, the attractive ones were far worse. Her tongue turned to pudding in her mouth. Only nonsense fell out, if words came to her at all.
It was all well and good for scaring suitors off, but it was also humiliating.
“Right.” Hannah had to say something. “You can count on me.”
Then she was inside and Della was gone.
It was dark in the club at this hour of the night, despite the gaslights that threw gold reflections onto everyone. The walls were decorated with various objects that caught the light: a large mirror here, a mounted clock there. Hannah recognized a painting that she’d gifted Della when she’d first arrived in London—a pretty landscape at sunset. It gave her a flush of pleasure to think that she’d already contributed something to the place.
She peered around as she inched her way forward, trying to take everything in. A quartet in the corner played a lively tune that was partly lost amid the bubbling of women’s voices. There were more of them than she’d expected. Wereallof these ladies ruined? When did the ruining start?
Maybe she needed to make her involvement known. It wouldn’t serve much purpose to come all the way here if no one noticed her.
An extremely well-dressed lady glided by and Hannah squeaked out, “Excuse me,” but her words were too quiet to reach the woman’s ear. She was already gone, off to play at one of the tables with her friends.
If Hannah was going to have any hope of ruining herself, she would have to be more forceful.
She cleared her throat and tried again, selecting a patron at random.
“Excuse me.” This time the words sounded more confident. “My name is Hannah Williams and I’m helping to manage the gambling club this evening. That’sMissHannah Williams, by the way. I don’t have a husband, but that didn’t stop me from coming here. Is there, er, anything you need? Would you like something to eat?”
There! She’d done it. Exactly one other person knew that she’d immersed herself in a den of depravity, as Mama sometimes termed it. And this lady was only the first among many.
It turned out that the woman didn’t need anything, but she lingered a moment to introduce herself before she went about her way. The ease of the exchange gave Hannah the courage to try again with other guests, and soon she’d amassed a dozen witnesses to her downfall. The only problem was that none of them reacted with anything more than a polite smile (and one request for a cucumber sandwich).
Cucumber sandwiches didnotfit neatly into Hannah’s idea of a life of ruin.
Why doesn’t anyone seem scandalized by me?
She was young and unmarried, two qualities that Mama had assured her would mark her instantly as an interloper. But after a half hour spent circling the room, Hannah was beginning to suspect something was wrong.
There were plenty of unmarried ladies here. Why, the well-dressed one who’d passed her earlier was none other than Lady Eleanor Grosvenor, daughter of the Marquess of Westminster. How could she be in attendance, if the place was so dangerous? Surely a marquess wouldn’t let his own daughter be ruined!
But if she’s not ruined, then how can I be?
Hannah’s stomach sank so deep that it landed somewhere about her feet. So, this wasanotherlie that Mama had fed her. The ladies who frequented Bishop’s were no more a threat to her reputation than her own sister-in-law, and coming here wouldn’t make one jot of difference to the future that had been planned out for her. It had all been for nothing!
Hannah could have screamed. She felt as if a steam locomotive were bearing down on her and all she could do was wait on the tracks. What was she supposed to do now?
She might try another location. Something that would be certain to condemn her to the ranks of hopelessly ruined women. A brothel, perhaps. Or a public house.
But it stood to reason that she might need to walk more than ten minutes to get there, and through a far more dangerous neighborhood. Hannah wasn’t quite ready to risk her life to sabotage her mother. Not yet, at least.
Maybe I can still find a way to ruin myself right here at Bishop’s.
What if she tried wagering a large sum? That might do more to shock people than fetching sandwiches.
Hannah scanned the room, trying to decide which of the tables looked the most risqué. She was familiar with the games one saw at house parties, of course, but she wasn’t sure she knew the rules to everything on offer tonight. Which table should she choose?
Wait, she realized belatedly,I don’t need to know the rules. The point is to make a spectacle of myself.
Once this obstacle was dispensed with, she recalled Mr. Corbyn was dealing at the table on the far edge of the room. Shehadpromised Della she would keep an eye on him. If she made herself useful, she might feel a bit less guilty about the lie she’d told to get herself in the door.
Hannah observed him from a distance, trying to work up the nerve to go over.
