Colleen dropped her hand and blew out her cheeks. “It is not a story I can tell. If you are close to Summerset, and wish to become closer, you must ask him.” She winced. “Just, perhaps don’t tell him who let the information slip.”
Netta tapped her foot. What could it have been? He was still a member of the House of Lords. How many services did an earl perform for the government? And one that would be enveloped in secrecy?
“But what about you?’ Colleen cleared her throat. “How did you and Summerset meet?”
“I foisted his billfold.” Could he have taken a cabinet position he was embarrassed about? Become an aide to the prince regent?
“What?” Colleen’s jaw dropped.
Hell and damnation. Her mouth was a constant source of aggravation. She gave the woman her most winning smile and pushed the brim of her cloak further back her head to reveal more of her eyes. Her honest and sincere eyes. “I’m an actress. Summerset befriended me and is now my sponsor. It’s our little joke, my taking him for his money.”
“Ah.” Colleen crossed one leg over the other, letting her foot swing. “Sponsor. Is that what it’s called nowadays?”
The woman’s voice held amusement instead of censure, but Netta’s face heated just the same.
“The services I provide for sponsorship are all respectable.” If seducing a man into gambling for her favors could be called respectable. “Not all actresses also work as Paphions.”
Netta pressed her lips together. It infuriated her that such an implication lingered, but it was the reason why John hadn’t wanted her to let her profession be widely known. This man she was to bring to the table preferred innocent misses and an actress just didn’t qualify.
Colleen squeezed her arm. “I apologize if I offended you, but Summerset must not have told you about me and Sutton if you think I would judge any honest choice a woman makes. And I do believe prostitution is an honest transaction.”
Now Netta was the one to gape like a fish.
Colleen shrugged. “My husband owns a Venus club that caters to unusual tastes. I am the manager of The Black Rose. If you are interested, you should ask Summerset to bring you one night.”
Netta moved her lips but no words emerged. If the baroness had said she liked to dance naked in the moonlight, Netta couldn’t have been more shocked.
“Where should I take her?” John shouldered through the curtain, a glass of wine in each hand.
“To one of the new burletta shows.” Colleen winked at her. “If your friend enjoys opera, I believe she will also like the musical theatre productions.”
“If she wishes it.” John handed her a glass then was jostled aside by Sutton, who handed his wife a steaming cup of coffee.
Colleen pressed a hand to her abdomen and pushed the cup away. “No, thank you.”
“But you love coffee.”
“Not tonight.”
“Before this devolves into unpleasant marital bickering, I do believe the second act is about to begin.” John gave his friend a pointed look. “Don’t you have your own box to haunt?”
Colleen rose and gave Netta her hand. “It was lovely to meet you, Miss LeBlanc.”
“Netta, please.”
“And you must call me Colleen.”
John guided Colleen around the chair to her husband’s side. “Yes, yes. We’re all great friends. Now leave us be.”
Sutton rested his hand on his wife’s lower back. “We will finish this conversation,” he said as he held the curtain open.
John fluttered his fingers in dismissal. He sank into his seat with a sigh. “Alone again at last.”
“Alone? We are surrounded by hundreds of other patrons.” She rested her elbow on her chairback and turned towards him. A faint line creased his forehead, and she longed to rub away his worry. After his conversation with his friend, his shoulders seemed to sit a little lower, as though weighted. She wished they were alone, where she could do something to improve his state of mind.
She wished she knew a way to make him happy outside of bed sport. For as compelling as he was in bed, she was finding him even more so out of it.
The house lights dimmed and the orchestra played the opening notes.
