“What, you’re not coming? But I was going to introduce you to my favorite bather today.” Percy rolled up behind Jenny and peered through the door at Lottie. “His name is Gotfried. German, you know. They make the best bathers. Anyway, I told him all about you, and he’s charmed with you already. He’s eager to meet you.”
God help her. Percy meant well, but the last thing she needed were the attentions of an enormous, amorous German gentleman. “Not today, dearest, but I promise to take a stroll with you this afternoon.”
“But I told him you’d?—”
“Never mind, Mr. Percy. She’ll meet him another time.” Jenny winked at Lottie, then maneuvered Percy’s chair to the door. “Have a nice rest, Miss Lottie. We’ll see you after Mr. Percy’s bathe.”
It was far too quiet, once they’d gone. Too empty, too.
Perhaps she’d remain in bed with the covers pulled over her head and meditate on her sins. Let’s see. Lying, cheating, stealing, wagering… Was wagering a sin? It seemed likely.
Goodness, she was maudlin.
It wasn’t as if last night had been a complete disaster. That is, it was bad enough, but she was seven pounds richer than she’d been yesterday, and she’d woken in her bed instead of a jail cell.
It might have been worse.
Yes, she was obliged to return tonight, but what was the sense in sniveling about it? It wasn’t as if anyone had noticed her last night. She was far too shabby a figure in Percy’s old church coat and breeches to attract the attention of the ton.
That would be true tonight, as well. Really, she was fretting over nothing.
She threw the coverlet back, snatched up her dressing gown and wandered into the kitchen. Jenny, bless her, had left a plate of toast for her, and the teapot was still warm. She made a cup of tea and took it into the cramped room that served as their drawing room, grabbed her book from the side table and settled herself on the settee.
Yes, this would do very well for a day. Why, what use did she have for the pump room or the beach or the blue sky and sunshine when she might spend the entire day perusing fine literature? It was a lovely Gothic tale, too, and she was positively dying to find out what would happen to poor Victoria and Count Urbino.
Really, there wasn’t anything pleasanter than a quiet day spent reading.
An hour later she finished the first volume and snapped the book closed. Dash it, why hadn’t she planned better? The circulating library had the remaining two volumes, but it was located at the Old Steine, along with most of the inhabitants of Brighton.
No. Alas for poor Victoria and her Count, it was too risky, particularly since she was obliged to return to Hart’s Ace tonight.
Until then, she’d simply find something else to do.
She tossed the book aside and leapt to her feet with a great deal of determination, but there were only so many turns about the room a lady could make before she was ready to go mad, and soon enough she slumped on the settee again.
Goodness, she was out of sorts. The sooner this business with Hart’s Ace was finished, the better. Another ten pounds or so, and that would be the end of it. By this time tomorrow, they’d have the means to remain in Brighton.
That was all she wanted, all that mattered.
And if she didn’t much care for having to cheat her way to another two weeks in Brighton, she only had to recall Percy’s rattling cough this past spring for the guilt to melt away.
The day dragged on into eternity, empty and lonely, but it did end, as all days must, and she did have one stroke of luck. Jenny and Percy had gone off to see Edmund Keene as Othello at the Theatre Royal this evening, taking them out of her way at just the right time.
That was one less lie she’d been obliged to tell them.
She twisted her hair into a tight chignon, then set to the laborious work of scraping the stubborn locks back from her face and securing them with dozens of hairpins before bundling the untidy mess into Percy’s hat.
She studied her reflection in the glass, turning this way and that. It wasn’t perfect, that much was certain. Despite the hasty alterations she’d made to Percy’s clothing this afternoon it still didn’t hang properly, and she was obliged to wear her half boots again. Percy didn’t have a second pair of shoes, so she’d just have to pray the hems of the long cloak she wore would hide her feet.
It was the best she could do. Fortunately, many of Mr. Hart’s patrons would be well into their cups by now. She’d simply keep her mouth closed and her hat pulled low over her face and hope it would be enough.
But when she reached the end of Church Street and turned onto Pavilion Parade, her heart sank. Hart’s Ace was ablaze with enough light to rival the North Star, for pity’s sake.
Dozens of carriages were lined up along the drive, waiting for their turn to disgorge their fashionable passengers at the door, the gentlemen’s raised voices and shouts of laughter carrying on the clear night air.
Dear God, what a crush! Perhaps that would work in her favor, however. There was a safety in crowds, an anonymity that might help to conceal her, er…less than legal activities.
There was no sense putting it off. The sooner she began, the sooner it would be over.
