“I have two older brothers.” She shrugged. Her brothers were ten and twelve years older than her. She had spent most of her childhood trying to catch up with the two of them as they raced, swam, and fished.
Wrotham reached up and pulled his cravat free from around his neck. It reminded her that he was still in his evening clothes. He had been out all night, again. Hmm, maybe he could answer her questions about where one found a brothel.
“Lord Wroth…” He sent her a frown. “I mean, Morgan, can I ask you a question that perhaps is somewhat unseemly?”
“Of course. That’s my favorite kind of question.”
She bit her lip.Just ask him, you ninny. He is precisely the type of man who would know such things.
“Have you ever heard of a book that lists and rates establishments in Convent Gardens for gentlemen to visit for…a certain kind of entertainment?”
Morgan stopped his horse. “Do you meanHarris’ List of Convent Garden Ladies? How on earth would you even have heard about it?” His face was comically aghast.
Her cheeks heated, she looked down at her horse’s russet mane. “My friend said she heard her brother and his friend talking about it,” she mumbled.
Blast, if she was too embarrassed to speak about a damn book, then how would she have the courage to execute her plan? She raised her head and forced herself to meet his gaze. “She and I were discussing the appalling nature of men’s entertainments.”
“Yes, we are the baser of the sexes.” He shrugged unapologetically. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why are you interested in Convent Garden brothels?”
“I’m sure I’m not! I was just curious if such a book existed. And I thought you might be the type of man who would know. Since you certainly aren’t spending all night out with your knitting club.”
“Riding in the park alone, inquiring about brothels, injuring innocent bystanders with bejeweled fashion accessories. I don’t remember English women being quite so madcap, but I have been abroad much of the past few years.”
“Well!” Caroline couldn’t even voice her outrage at having all of her oddities spelled out like that. A true gentleman would not point out such things. It’s as though Lord Wrotham just said aloud whatever he was thinking in that gorgeous head of his.
Her indignation must have shown on her face because at least he had the grace to look abashed. “That was a compliment, by the way.”
She should have known it was a bad idea to ask him. He would probably have a good laugh with his new friends about how Lady Caroline was interested in Convent Garden brothels. She huffed. And he hadn’t even answered her question. “Well, I think perhaps it’s time for this madcap lady to get home. Good day, Lord Wrotham.” She turned her horse toward Grosvenor Gate.
Chapter 10
Caroline sat curled up in her favorite divan. Outside the window, the sky was gray, and the wind blew the branches of the tree outside her window. The occasional tap-tapping distracted her from the book she had open in her lap. She glanced up at the door for the hundredth time, expecting her mother to burst in at any moment with a look of disproval on her face.
Harris’ Book of Covent Garden Ladieswas a scandalous book which she should definitely not be reading. Nevertheless, it was necessary research. She frowned down at the page. Many of the comments written about various brothels were like reading a foreign language. What were bubbies? They were mentioned many times. Did it refer to some type of cheap jewelry? Caroline flipped to another page. She simply needed to pick a couple of places to begin. There was no need to read the whole blasted thing.
Running her finger down the page, she paused at Mrs. Kelly’s, number two St. Martin’s Lane. The address appeared often. A popular place, perhaps? It was as good a starting place as any. She snapped the book closed. Tonight, she would conduct her first undercover investigation into the underbelly of being a gentleman of the ton. It incensed her that men could be so hypocritical. Paying these poor women for sexual favors while at the same time expecting their wives and daughters to be virginal and pure.
She couldn’t control all men, but she could hit the ones of a certain caliber right where it would hurt most, their reputations. Once she gathered some names of gentlemen who frequented the houses ill repute, she would publish the information. Where she had yet to figure out, but that part was step two.
A knock at the door caused her to jump. She slid the guide behind a pile of throw pillows in the corner of the divan. “Come in,” she called out.
The door opened, and Susie’s head poked into the room. “Lady Caroline, your mother wishes to speak to you. She asked me to instruct you to meet her in her sitting room.”
Her mother wanted to speak with her privately? Uh oh, had she found out about her trip to Mrs. Gwyn’s? “Thank you, Susie.” Caroline bit her bottom lip. No, who would tell? None of the servants would want to get into trouble with the duchess. Had she somehow conjured her mother’s attention by reading that scandalous book? She grabbed the book, and walking over to her bureau, tucked the book in a drawer under several extra nightgowns.
Caroline’s trepidation grew with every step down the long-carpeted hallway to her mother’s suite. She paused before knocking to smooth her chignon.Act normal; she probably just wants to discuss this week’s schedule.Caroline rapped her knuckles on the wood door.
“Come in,” her mother called out.
“Good afternoon, Mother.” Caroline came into the familiar room. Her mother’s suite was done in soft natural colors. The pale pink silk wall coverings were the color of cherry blossoms, and the carpet and curtains were a pale spring green. A delicately embroidered cream-colored fabric covered the settee and chairs that made up the cozy conversation area in front of the fireplace. The room was decidedly feminine and inviting.
“Come in, Caroline. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Caroline gulped. Her mother sounded worried. She sat down in one of the chairs and gestured for Caroline to do the same.
“My dear, I have put off this conversation for a while. The thing is…” Her mother cleared her throat. Then she picked up a plate of lemon shortbread. Caroline’s favorite. “Biscuit?”
Caroline chose a biscuit and took a small bite. The thing is…biscuit? Her mother never spoke like that. She always knew exactly what she wanted to say. “Mother, what is it?”
