a short bark of laughter. “You will do no such thing. I might possibly be with child, but I am not daft. It’s the perfect plan! All we need is the right gentleman.”
“And just where do you propose we find this man?” Calliope challenged, bracing her hands on her hips. “Could you imagine the scandal it would incite for us to go about inquiring if any of Hastings’s friends would like to join our conspiracy? I’m enough of a walking scandal on my own, thank you. I don’t think I want to bear more scrutiny on top of that.”
Practically bouncing with every step, Diana dashed across the room toward the chaise longue Calliope liked to lay upon to read. Underneath it sat a stack of her most recent novels, the box containing her charcoal pencils and latest sketches, and a handful of scandal sheets. Embarrassment flooded Calliope as Diana retrieved the sheets, exposing her secret love of the salacious papers. Ekta scorned them as pointless drivel, but they were the only guilty pleasure Calliope ever allowed herself. Just because she’d spent her entire life trying to avoid becoming a spectacle didn’t stop her from enjoying the news of other scandals.
“Ah-ha,” Diana said as she pulled one from the sheaf and held it up.
It was a copy of the most popular paper in Town, The London Gossip. Extending it toward Calliope, Diana pointed at a story that had been setting the ton ablaze for months. In it, the anonymous writer of the column had published a first-hand account from a woman who had, supposedly, hired on the services of the men known as The Gentleman Courtesans. No names had been published, but this column was the first part in what was to be a series of chapters offering a glimpse inside the secret organization. Of course, no concrete proof had been given to substantiate the claims, which meant most of the beau monde thought of it as nothing more than the amusing fictional writings of the mysterious London Gossip.
“You cannot be serious!” Calliope cried. “There is no proof that these Gentleman Courtesans exist, and even if they did, their purpose surely would not be helping a spinster find a husband.”
Diana glanced about as if she expected Hastings or another servant to come leaping out of the shadows at any moment. When no such thing occurred, she edged closer and lowered her voice.
“It’s true, all of it. I know someone who had an affair with one of them for months after her husband’s death.”
“Diana!”
Her sister shrugged. “Now that I’m married, people talk about all sorts of things in my presence. It has been an illuminating experience. Anyway, the woman was quite explicit in her descriptions, and insists that the courtesans only give the client whatever she wants. An elderly widow once paid one of them to come have tea with her every afternoon and rub her arthritic joints. Another simply wanted someone to lie in bed with her and hold her while she slept. So, you see, the man could be whatever you needed him to be—including a public escort.”
Calliope gaped at Diana, unable to believe what she was hearing. As frustrating as it was to be her age and have people go silent around her when certain subjects came up in conversation, it was even more disturbing to know such things happened every day right under her nose. A society that would cast aspersions on her for being born of an English lord and a Bengali woman—who had happened to be his lawful wife—would really turn a blind eye to such immorality? But, of course they would. Men flaunting their mistresses behind their wives’ backs was par for the course, so why wouldn’t there also be a business catering to the whims of wealthy women?
“These men might be used in any number of capacities, but we all know what their true purpose is,” Calliope argued. “Surely you don’t suggest I allow myself to be seen publicly with one!”
Diana took hold of her hands and gave her a meaningful look, eyebrows raised. “That’s just it, Callie. These men are discreet—they have to be. Despite the odd mention in the gossip columns, have you ever actually heard a substantial rumor about them? Heard their names whispered anywhere in polite society? Known of any woman being publicly ruined by association with one?”
Yet again, her sister had a point. Despite wild speculation, no one could say with any certainty who the Gentleman Courtesans were, how