Severely she said, “Don’t try to turn me up sweet,ma petite!The last thing I need at the moment is someone to take care of.”
The cat tilted its head up and offered what looked very much like a coaxing feline smile. Nicole bit her lip. “Very well, you silly beast. “If you will travel in my pocket, we will give it a try. But mind you behave.”
To her surprise, the cat settled happily into the right pocket of Nicole’s cloak. The small furry body created a spot of warmth against her side. Feeling unreasonably cheered, Nicole continued on her way to Covent Garden.
* * *
“Who would have thought whores would be so thin on the ground?” James Kirby grumbled as he surveyed the wet, dismal intersection at Covent Garden.
“This weather would drive anyone indoors,” Masterson said dryly. “Besides, even ladies of pleasure are entitled to take a few days off at Christmas.”
They had seen several raddled, gin-soaked streetwalkers, but Masterson had flatly refused to let Kirby approach them on the grounds that the object was to give Philip a night’s pleasure, not the French pox and God knew what else. “Time to give the idea up, James. Let’s go back to my rooms and make a bowl of hot punch.”
“Wait!” Kirby pointed across the street. “She’s perfect.”
Masterson examined the object of Kirby’s interest, a slim girl who stood in front of the new opera house. She was dressed in a voluminous and much-bedraggled scarlet cloak, and it was easy to see why she had caught Kirby’s eye. What was visible of her face under the hood was very lovely—and also very innocent.
“She’s attractive,” Masterson agreed, “but I’m not sure she’s available. Doesn’t quite have the look of a doxy.”
“Who but a whore would wear a cloak like that? She has exactly the right look for Philip. He’s never liked the brazen sort. Come on, let’s ask her. If she’s respectable, she’ll give us a flea in the ear quick enough, and we’ll be no worse off than we are now.” Kirby started across the street.
Masterson had to admit that the garment in question was unlikely to be worn by anyone but a prostitute or a dashing society lady. Decent females didn’t wear such violent, expensive shades of red, nor did they have masses of ostrich feather trim drooping about them. They certainly did not wander alone in Covent Garden. Resigned, he followed his friend.
As soon as Nicole realized that the two young men were heading straight for her, she started to hasten away, for a day on London’s meaner streets had already taught her caution. One of the men called out, “Wait, miss, we want to talk to you.”
The voice was polite and seemed sober, so warily she stopped and turned to face them.
The redheaded young man who had called gave her an ingenuous smile. “We’re looking for someone to keep a friend company tonight. Would”—he considered—”five pounds be sufficient?”
As soon as she realized his meaning, she gasped in shock. How dare he! What kind of girl did he think she was?
Misinterpreting her gasp, he said, “Very well, ten.”
Nicole realized that it was quite obvious what kind of girl he thought she was. She opened her mouth to give him an icy set-down, then slowly closed it when a shocking but practical thought occurred to her. Ten pounds was a substantial amount of money, enough to support her for weeks if she was careful.
Enough to make the difference between surviving or starving.
Though part of her was appalled that she would even consider such a proposition, she found herself coolly evaluating the risks. She would lose her virtue, of course, but virtue would be of precious little use if she starved to death. There was also the disastrous chance of pregnancy, but that was unlikely to happen after a single night.
Her hasty calculations suggested that the benefits of being ruined would outweigh the risks. Nonetheless, the idea of allowing a total stranger such intimacy was abhorrent. The man might be revolting or even vicious.
Stalling for time to make up her mind, she said, “Is your friend such a monster that he cannot find a woman for himself, so he sends you to pimp for him?”
“He’s a perfectly pleasant fellow,” the redhead assured her. “This is a surprise Christmas present since he’s been working too hard.”
Taking a deep breath, Nicole decided to put herself into the hands of fate. “Twenty pounds,” she said firmly. If they would pay such a great amount of money, she would take it as a sign that letting herself be ruined was the right thing to do.
“Twenty pounds?” the redhead said dubiously. “That seems a trifle steep.”
With a mixture of regret and relief, Nicole said, “It is my price, monsieur. If it is more than you wish to pay, so be it.”
“Wait.” For the first time the dark-haired man spoke. He pushed Nicole’s hood back onto her shoulders. Then, while the cold rain spattered her cheeks, he took her chin in one hand and studied her with a detached gaze. “She’s very pretty. A sweet face. I think Philip would like her.”
Nicole’s companion chose this moment to stick its head out of her pocket and give a piercing yowl. Both men gave the furry, triangular head a startled glance.
“My cat,” Nicole said, rather unnecessarily. “Where I go, she goes.”
The corners of the dark-haired man’s mouth twitched with amusement. “James, does Philip like cats?”
