The Scandalous Life of a True Lady Read Online Free

veritable paragon—except that this was a brothel, not a charity home.
    When Simone started to ask more about him, his age, his looks, his likes and dislikes, Lydia clapped her hands. “Privacy, ladies, privacy.” She meant Harry’s, not Simone’s, who was poked and prodded and perfumed. “Let us leave Miss Ryland to form her own opinions. It is the impression she will make on Harry that we are concerned about, not the other way about.”
    Soon the lovely gown was raised over her head again, and over her plain mended shift.
    Mrs. Burton frowned but did not insist Simone disrobe completely. “No one will be seeing that today, thank goodness.”
    The gown was a dark vibrant blue watered silk. The color matched Harry’s eyes, Molly swore. Harry’s eyes were more like sapphires, Susie said, although she’d only seen paste copies of the gems. Nell declared Harry’s eyes were prettier than any jewel, because of the dark rims around the blue, and because they sparkled so when he laughed.
    Simone relaxed a bit. The man sounded charming. She might even like him, which was far more than she’d expected.
    The gown’s neckline was far lower than she’d expected. The borrowed corset forced her breasts higher than she was used to, but now the gown looked as if it were made for her, and she was made for a man’s admiration. She did not object. No one would have listened, for one thing, and she wanted to win Harry’s approval, for another.
    Her hair was loosely gathered instead of in its tight braids, twirled into fashion with a curling iron, and held up with a bouquet of silk violets Meg volunteered.
    “Lord Maynes couldn’t keep his regular appointment. His wife was in town, so he sent these instead.”
    Everyone laughed except for the madam, who chided them again. “Privacy, girls.”
    Then Jenny brought out a tray of cosmetics.
    Face paints? “Oh, I could not use—”
    The job was done before Simone finished the sentence. A blush of color on her almond skin highlighted her prominent cheekbones and made her coloring seem sun-kissed instead of swarthy; a dark line around her eyes made them look wider and mysterious, instead of just somber; an ashy substance seemed to make her lashes longer; polish disguised the rough treatment her fingernails had recently undergone. Lydia fixed a strand of pearls around Simone’s neck and declared them just the proper touch for a well-bred miss. “Nothing garish, mind. Harry would not want that.” Then she bade Simone stand and walk across the room.
    Simone took one step before her fairy godmother cursed and clutched her heart. “By Satan’s short hairs, she is wearing blasted boots!”
    Five girls ran to find slippers to fit.
    Then Simone walked the way her mother had taught her: back straight, chin high, in smooth, graceful steps.
    “Ooh, don’t she look like a lady for true?”
    Lydia poured them each a glass of wine in celebration. “Let us hope so, for Harry’s sake.”

Chapter Three
    “To Harry!” someone cheered.
    “And to Miss Ryland, for luck,” another woman added, so Simone raised her glass to them all. “To new friends and good fortunes.”
    “Especially the good fortunes,” Mrs. Burton added.
    George the butler cleared his throat at the door to the proprietor’s private parlor, then entered and whispered in her ear.
    “Major Harrison is coming? Drat the man. I was hoping for—” Lydia caught herself from saying more and clapped her hands to get the girls’ attention. “Privacy, my dears. You know how Major Harrison feels about his personal life. I am sure you have chores to do to ready yourselves for this evening. Meg, your singing voice needs practice. Sally, your hair appeals dull. Some lemon juice, perhaps?”
    In minutes they were all gone, with the jars and sewing baskets and extra slippers.
    Simone set her glass down. “Someone else is coming? I was quite getting used to the idea of Harry. He sounded a pleasant sort.”
    “Oh, he is, and