Killroy’s ball the event of the Season thus far. She is fair to preening from the attention, despite being called porcine."
Some of Calliope’s embarrassment must have slipped through her reserve, because Robert reached over and patted her hand. "You should be relieved at this turn of events. If I’m not mistaken, I believe you called Lady Simpson something akin to a harridan quite loudly in front of the entire assemblage.
"Regardless of your feelings for the woman or the fact that the position gave you entree into the ton, by your own admission you had almost drained her of ideas."
He motioned to a blank sheet of drawing paper. "You really ought to illustrate the occurrence from Margaret’s point of view. Other artists are bound to capitalize on the subject, and it would be best to have yourself well represented."
Calliope nodded, opened her top drawer and handed him an already sketched and signed caricature of the event. He took one look at it and roared with laughter.
The picture illustrated a sparrow with a bandaged leg and spectacles applying tar and feathers to a large-mouthed harpy standing in shock. In the background, ornately plumed birds had wide eyes focused on the twosome, and the flock was depicted gathering up bits and pieces of grain on the floor.
"And here is another . " She withdrew a second caricature. It was a tribute to Lady Simpson, who wielded a knife as she carved into a roasted pig bearing Lady Killroy’s features.
"These are fabulous. The public will love them."
She allowed herself a small smile. Paybacks were quite satisfying. One noble at a time.
"However, it does leave you in rather odd straits." Robert tucked the sketches into his leather satchel. "You may not be able to get a companion position under a different persona. There are limited ways in which one can appear severely dowdy and not be recognized. And you have stressed to me several times the desire for your real identity to remain anonymous."
Yes, anonymity was essential. Calliope knew society. Lady Salisbury had countless friends who would keep her fully abreast of the latest on-dits. And since Margaret Stafford definitely was in the on-dit category at present, Calliope could only breathe a sigh of relief that she had persisted with the disguises.
Robert’s hands were crossed in a contemplative fashion as he waited patiently for her response to the dilemma.
Calliope breathed deeply. "Robert, after much consideration, I have decided to view society from a totally different perspective."
His eyebrows rose, but he waited for her to continue.
"However, in order to do so I will need your help finding a man of noble birth who can be completely trustworthy. A nearly impossible request, I know. "
She saw more interest gather in his eyes. Robert loved a challenge. "Well, don’t keep me in suspense."
"I’ve decided to become a courtesan."
Robert’s face went blank. "A what?"
"A courtesan."
"A courtesan?"
"Yes." Her nerves were already frayed.
He sat up in his chair. "Let me get this straight. You want to be a lady of the night, a bird of paradise, one of the demimonde, fallen?"
Calliope fought to maintain her composure. "Yes, but in name only . "
"Ridiculous."
"No, it’s a perfect cover." `
"Why not a seamstress?"
"Too tedious and limiting."
"Governess?"
"Too restrictive."
"Scullery maid?"
Calliope cringed. "No. Any service position would be skewed to the household I would inhabit."
Robert’s face had turned an unbecoming shade of red. Calliope jumped into the brief silence.
"Robert, listen before you negate the idea. I’ve been mulling this over for days." Calliope examined her ink-stained hands as she reviewed her arguments. "This role will be terrific. I will have access to new haunts and will be able to view the ton from a new perspective. The position will give me insight