The Secrets of a Courtesan Read Online Free Page A

property to pawn for money and one of the reasons her clientele liked
    her was because she was so discreet and kept their secrets. And yet she had not been comfortable
    about the transaction. A sixth sense had told her that something was wrong even as she had tried
    to persuade herself that Tom Fortune was probably only selling off the family silver to pay his
    gambling debts.
    Her disquiet turned to foreboding. Could Hawkesbury be correct, not in his suspicions of her, but
    in the fact that Warren Sampson might be using her shop to launder stolen goods? Sampson was
    a deeply unpleasant man, grotesquely, ridiculously wealthy with a fortune that had been made in
    the mills of Leeds and Bradford. On more than one occasion Eve had caught him looking at her
    with speculation and lust in his eyes and she had shuddered to imagine that he might know her
    secrets, her background, her past. What Warren Sampson might do with such knowledge was
    terrifying. But he had said nothing and had always treated her with outward respect, and Eve had
    told herself that she was imagining things. Nevertheless, he always made her skin crawl.
    Rumor, which swirled around Fortune’s Folly like the current of the River Tune, said that
    Sampson had added to his money through various criminal activities but nothing had ever been
    proven. Now it seemed that Hawkesbury was set on finding that proof and that Rowarth would
    use her in any way possible to bring Sampson down.
    Eve shuddered. She knew that if Rowarth had Hawkesbury’s authority he could enforce
    whatever he wished and if Hawkesbury believed her guilty of criminal activity then she had no
    hope. Suddenly she felt so tired, so vulnerable to this man and to the insidious appeal that he still
    had for her and so miserable that he had nothing but disdain for her now. It appalled and
    distressed her that he had accepted Lord Hawkesbury’s commission to bring her down.
    But such regrets would not save her. With a sigh, she gestured Rowarth to a seat on one of the
    rather rickety wooden chairs at the side of her desk. Accounts and correspondence spilled from
    the table onto the floor. She gave vent to her feelings by giving the papers a violent shove so that
    the ones still on the desk cascaded onto the floor.
    Realizing that Rowarth was waiting, with impeccable manners, for her to sit first, she pushed
    some books aside and took a chair. He immediately sat down opposite her. His presence seemed
    to fill the space between them, powerful, authoritative. The room suddenly seemed too small,
    cramped and close, and it was nothing to do with the piles of goods that were stored in there. It
    was simply that Alasdair Rowarth had always been the most overwhelming man that Eve had
    ever met and she felt angry that he could still affect her in such a profound way.
    To cover her nervousness she tilted up her chin and subjected him to a stern appraisal.
    “You cannot have any evidence at all to back up these ridiculous accusations,” she said. “They
    are absolutely untrue.”
    Rowarth inclined his head. His hair, glossy and thick, shone in a ray of sunlight that penetrated
    the dusty window. He looked self-assured, Eve thought, with all the confidence that privilege
    and position could bring. It only served to make her feel all the more vulnerable.
    “The Home Secretary’s agents have had your shop under observation for several months,” he
    said. “They know that you are fencing stolen goods.” He picked up the silver hairbrush again and
    looked thoughtfully at it. “I am sure you are aware there have been a number of robberies
    locally.”
    “No,” Eve said. Her immediate instinct was to protect herself and Joan and all she had worked to
    build up. But she could see as soon as the words left her mouth that Rowarth did not believe her.
    His gaze rested on her face with the perceptive intensity that she remembered. She blushed and
    saw the corner of his mouth lift in a smile, as though she had just