Prologue
London, England - March 5, 1817
On this particular Wednesday afternoon, Brisbane’s Emporium was remarkably crowded. Catherine Bettencourt, Baroness Trevelaine and daughter of one partner of Carruthers & Carruthers’ Publishers and Booksellers, appreciated the bustle even as she made her way to the back counter. Business was brisk, perhaps because ladies felt the need for the cheering activity of shopping for oneself, perhaps because many were returning to town from their country estates and yearned for diversions. Either way, Catherine knew that the proprietress, Sophia de Roye, had to be pleased by the influx of clients.
She saw Mrs. de Roye at the back counter, her tall figure distinctive even at a distance. To Catherine’s relief, Eurydice Montgomery, Countess Rockmorton, was chatting with Mrs. de Roye. Catherine would not have to wait upon Eurydice, a most reassuring detail for she had many errands to fulfill on this day. She smiled when she heard Eurydice make a jest and Mrs. de Roye laugh—Sophia had once been Eurydice’s tutor and the pair were still close.
Brisbane’s Emporium was a popular destination for ladies with a taste for fine fabrics. Their selection of silks was unrivaled and the vast array of ribbons and bonnet trimmings available in their haberdashery meant that even a lady with the most modest of budgets could find a delightful item to acquire. The previous autumn, the large shop had been divided into smaller rooms, in the style of the exchanges, and it was clear that the clients had embraced the transformation. A central corridor mimicked an arcade, with windows for the various departments on either side, their goods artfully displayed. Near the entry from the street were the silk shop on the left and the millinery on the right, followed by fans and hosiery on the left and haberdashery on the right—adjacent to the millinery, for convenience. Against the back wall was a display of jewelry, a space that appeared to be leased to a goldsmith, and a perfumery. In the middle of the rear wall, Mrs. de Roye reigned, organizing deliveries, orders, and gifts. Catherine knew that lady’s husband, Lucien de Roye, managed the books and ensured that payments were collected. On this day, Catherine had no doubt that the tea shop next door was also busy.
Even though she was married to Rhys and a baroness now, Catherine would forever be the daughter of a man who had earned his way in trade and thus, an active shop always made her smile.
Mrs. de Roye nodded a greeting to her and the countess turned to greet Catherine with characteristic enthusiasm. “Mrs. de Roye has arranged for us to have a private room to view the silks,” Eurydice said, winking rather broadly. “I know you prefer to be discrete about your opinions.”
It was an excuse and Catherine knew it. In truth, the pair had met to discuss the future of the collection of intimate advice that both had used to advantage. They had need of privacy not only to ensure their plans remained secret, but also that no one realized they were meeting (and conspiring) with the notorious courtesan, Miss Esmeralda Ballantyne.
“Irene will show you the way,” Mrs. de Roye said, gesturing to a young woman beside her.
In that moment, a collective gasp echoed through the crowd of shoppers. Like everyone else, Catherine turned to look.
Miss Esmeralda Ballantyne had entered the establishment. She wore a striking dress of striped silk in mint green with black accents. Droplets of rain glistened like diamonds on the shoulders of her deep green coat. Her hat was graced with no less than three ostrich plumes, her dark hair was elegantly arranged, and she wore a magnificent choker of pearls of so many strands that it covered her neck completely.
But it was her presence alone that excited such a reaction.
Her reputation had clearly preceded her.
Miss Ballantyne surveyed the store and its occupants with a small smile, then strolled toward the perfume counter. The shoppers parted before her like the Red Sea, more than one lady whispering behind her hand to her companion. If they were scandalized, Miss Ballantyne was only amused.
“Goodness,” Catherine said, because she felt she should say something that sounded as if she was shocked.
“We must go immediately to the private room,” Eurydice whispered, as if she did not wish to encounter Miss Ballantyne. Irene quickly led them away and Catherine glanced back to see Miss Ballantyne surveying the wares.
“I would not scent the entire store,” she said in the dulcet tones famed throughout England for their seductive allure. “But I must smell them all. I have need of a specific scent, you understand, to tempt a most discerning gentleman.” Then she smiled and the clerk, as Catherine might have anticipated, was incapable of doing anything other than ensuring Miss Ballantyne’s satisfaction.
The door to the private chamber was secured behind Catherine and Eurydice, the table piled with striped silks of enthusiastic hues which neither had any intention of buying, and the two friends watched each other as they listened for approaching footsteps. Catherine smiled at the sound of Miss Ballantyne’s voice drawing near. Eurydice smiled when there was activity in the adjacent room. That door was audibly closed, then Esmeralda herself opened the adjoining door between the two viewing rooms.
“We must be hasty,” she said, bustling into the room with the silks, her voice low. “I welcome your plan to publish the book for the education of other ladies. Indeed, it was my hope all along.”
“I still must make a compelling argument to my father and uncle,” Catherine said. “I fear they will not be readily convinced to publish such a guide.”
Eurydice made a dismissive sound but Esmeralda was studying Catherine. “It must have endorsements,” she said. She indicated one of the bottles of perfume surrendered to her and Catherine read that it was evidently a favorite of a crown princess in Europe.
She nodded understanding. “But how?”
“Who is the greater question,” Esmeralda said. “I have no suitable references, but you must know more dissatisfied wives.”
Eurydice and Catherine exchanged glances. “None that would lend their names to such an endorsement, even if impressed,” Eurydice said.
“Perhaps an advertisement?” Catherine suggested, dubious of its success.
Esmeralda chuckled. “There is a notion. Leave the references to me.” She raised a finger. “Upon the matter of the book itself, I intend to add some chapters.”
“Oh! Details,” Eurydice said with enthusiasm.
“I am not certain there is a need,” Catherine objected.
The courtesan’s famously green eyes gleamed. “How else would you have known that dear Rhys was not telling you all of the truth, if not for details?”
“But that reference was a medical volume.”
