It was the strangest thing. A week after her wedding, Fiona felt like she knew her husband both more and less. On the one hand, they’d spent every night together, exploring physical intimacies. No one knew her body better than Hawk, and she was learning what made him shudder and growl with pleasure. When they were not making love, they shared easy conversation, yet certain topics remained forbidden.
One night over supper, Fi’s growing curiosity had prompted her to ask Hawk how he’d met his first wife. The warmth had fled Hawk’s gaze; something in him had shut like an iron gate. He’d answered curtly that he met Caroline in the usual manner at a ball and said no more. The tension that followed had been a marked change from their earlier banter.
It had been a palpable reminder of the terms of their arrangement. They were partners, not soul mates. Hawk had a right to privacy. If she did not want him prying into her secrets, then it was best that she return the favor.
Other topics were not off-limits, however. Last evening, Fi had brought up the subject of the staff’s wages to her husband. He’d given her a lazy smile and agreed to her suggestion of a fifteen percent increase across the board. The fact that he’d just climaxed, and she was sitting atop him—a new position she adored and showed her appreciation for by coming twice—probably influenced his amenability.
“It wasn’t enough that you’ve had your way with me.”His eyes had glinted up at her.“Now you wish to get your way too.”
Hawk wasn’t wrong,she thought with a touch of smugness.
“Is there anything else, my lady?”
Fi yanked her thoughts back into the realm of appropriateness.
“There is, actually,” she said. “The earl will be discussing the details with Mr. Weatherby, but I wanted to let you know that the staff can expect an increase in wages. With a special bonus to you and Mr. Weatherby for your excellent service.”
“Oh, my lady. I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
Fi had never seen the stalwart housekeeper flustered before.
“It is my pleasure. Between you and me, I am aware of who has kept things afloat around here.” Fi smiled warmly. “Now, would you mind passing those delectable biscuits?”
Fi arrived at Charlie’s early that afternoon. From Hawker, she learned that Livy, Pippa, and Glory were finishing up sparring practice with Mrs. Peabody.
“Give that woman a chance, and she’ll wear you down to a nub,” the butler growled…somewhat nonsensically, in Fi’s opinion. “She never knows when to stop.”
Fi raised her brows but said nothing as the butler stomped off. She knew who Hawker was referring to. Mrs. Peabody and Hawker sniped at each other constantly, looking for fault where none was to be found. Indeed, Fi thought they fought like a pair of small children…or disgruntled lovers.
Fi went to the drawing room to wait for her friends. She and Pippa would be paying a second visit to Pandora’s Box this afternoon. Today marked Vera Engle’s return, and they planned to catch her before her Sirens of the Sea performance. To prepare for the interview, Fi decided to re-read Lillian’s letters to her mama.
Removing the letters from a drawer, she went to the sideboard and helped herself to tea from the silver samovar and a finger of shortbread, courtesy of Fisher’s Fine Foods. Curling up on the settee, she nibbled on the buttery treat as she rifled through the letters; the last two had been written around the time Lillian had been employed at the music hall.
The first one was dated eight months ago.
Dear Mama,
Thank you for your letter. I am well and wish you would not fret. Although I have not yet achieved my ultimate ambitions, I remain steadfast in my choices and pursuit of my dreams. I am optimistic that opportunities will present themselves. Until then, I am making do as you taught me.
On an encouraging note, I have received positive reviews for my performances. I believe they will soon lead to better roles that display my true talent. You did not raise me to be a quitter, and I hope to have even better news to share in my next letter.
Your loving daughter,
Lillian
Reading between the lines, Fiona felt Lillian’s conflict. She knew how hard it was to stay the course of one’s dreams when they did not fit the conventional mold. Lillian wanted to allay her mother’s fears, which meant she couldn’t share her true feelings: the disappointment and despair she must have felt working at a place like Pandora’s Box. She’d wanted to be Sarah Siddons and instead found herself doing lewd dances for strangers in a seedy revue.
The next letter, written a month later, had a markedly different tone.
Dear Mama,
I hope this letter finds you in excellent health. Sometimes life can take an unexpected turn, and that is what has happened to me. These days, I am thriving in London and have a newfound conviction in the path that I’ve chosen. While some may look down upon me, I now appreciate my own worth. It is the worth that every man, woman, and child has by right—that we, as citizens of a free and just society, must fight for and claim for ourselves.
I hope you will be happy, Mama, because I am happy. Truly. You needn’t fret about me any longer. I am safe and secure, and my dreams are coming to fruition in ways that surpass my grandest dreams.
Your loving daughter,
Lillian
