to be a lady, it might help if you didn’t see yourself as someone comfortable revealing . . . quite so much. You must have proper attire that you wear when you go shopping.”
They all nodded. Good. She’d encourage them to wear that.
“Then there’s our leaving frocks that Beast had a seamstress make for us,” Lily said.
“Your leaving frocks he had made for you?” She shook her head.
Lily nodded enthusiastically. “For interviews and for leaving. He’s had one made for every strumpet who ever worked here. To hang our dreams on in the wardrobe, he said. So whenever we open it, we remember something better is coming.”
“Every”—she could not say strumpet—“woman who’s worked here? There have been others?”
“Caw, yeah. We’re just what’s left.”
The ones who needed a bit more refinement.
“Lottie’s been here the longest. Lottie, how many do you think?”
“Blimey, I don’t know. Two dozen or so. I ain’t been here as long as Jewel. She’d know, for certain.”
Althea was stunned to learn there had been so many, and yet after their visit to the cemetery, she understood his need to help them and wanted to do all in her power to assist in their transition to a different life. “Perhaps your leaving frock is what you should wear for your lessons, as a sort of motivation.”
Lily appeared horrified. “It’s only for when we’re leaving and ain’t comin’ back.”
“Well, then, perhaps wear something a little more proper tomorrow, so you’re reminded of what you’re aspiring to be rather than how you are currently engaged.”
“Blimey, ye talk so fancy,” Lottie said.
She smiled. “And soon, so will you. But first, I’m going to teach you how to walk like a lady.”
She eased the loneliness that marred his soul.
It was the only sentence he’d written during the past hour since he’d left Althea to her lessons. It could apply to him and her as much as it did to his detective and the woman he suspected of murdering her husband.
He’d intended for the recent widow to be the culprit, but now saw the potential for her to soften his no-nonsense inspector. Did he need softening? Would it make him vulnerable?
With a groan, he dropped his head back and plowed his fingers through his long hair. He felt as though he were examining himself more than he was the character he’d created.
But then it seemed he was constantly analyzing his reactions to Althea. He enjoyed talking with her. Liked that she wasn’t afraid of him, hadn’t been from the first. Liked that she knew her own mind. Most of the time it didn’t bother him that she wouldn’t let him sway her from her decisions—but when it wasn’t in her best interest, it irritated the devil out of him.
Funny thing was, he even enjoyed that.
He’d been tempted to stay and observe the lessons but needed to work. He wasn’t certain eight words counted as achieving his goal.
He heard a bang, something falling. One of the ladies tripping over furniture?
Bang.
What the devil were they doing?
Bang.
He walked out of his study and crossed over to the library that was right next to it. The women were walking through the room with one of his precious books balanced on each of their heads—or trying to. One step, maybe two, and the thing toppled off and hit the floor. Bang.
Except for one. Except for the one sitting atop Althea’s head as she demonstrated how it was to be done, gliding along the length of the room with the book barely moving. So poised, so elegant, so in control. She wouldn’t tolerate it slipping from its perch.
How many hours had she practiced that stroll? How diligently had she worked to perfect that one small component so that particular facet of herself would not be found lacking? So she wouldn’t be looked down upon, so no fault would be found with her, so she could acquire a husband worthy of her? He couldn’t imagine that she’d given any less attention to fewer than a hundred other characteristics that defined her as a woman of the nobility.
Yet, for all her training, her father’s actions had made it all unnecessary.
Four and twenty. Why had she not already married?
She pivoted about and her gaze immediately landed on him, and the touch of her eyes might as well have been the touch of her hands on his skin, so forceful was the impact. That did not bode well for him remaining indifferent when it came to tutoring her in the art of seduction.
Turning on