silence, giving Benedick a moment to survey her. He didn’t believe she was a lady for one moment—Violet was prone to calling everyone “your lordship” or “your ladyship” in hopes of creating goodwill that would lead to financial generosity. This woman was past her first youth, though still young, wearing a bonnet that hid most of her hair and a great deal of her face. She was dressed in clothes of excellent quality but little style, and her voice was that of the upper classes or someone who’d had an excellent governess. She could almost carry it off.
Finally, she spoke. “Get up,” she said again. “I don’t know what kind of threats this man made, but you’ve nothing to be afraid of. He can’t hurt you—I won’t let him.”
Benedick decided it was time for him to interfere. “If you’d stop to listen to the girl, you’d realize that she’s here on her own volition.”
The woman turned toward him, and he could see blazing blue eyes beneath the brim of her hat. “She simply picked a likely door and walked in to offer her services, did she?”
“I sent her a note requesting her presence, but it was up to her whether she wished to accept my invitation.”
“Hardly an invitation.” She dropped a crumpled piece of paper on the floor with a contemptuous gesture. “It read more like a royal command than an invitation.”
“You read other people’s private correspondence?” He didn’t like this irksome woman one bit. “Perhaps you prefer I address my future requests to you.”
“To me?” she said, startled.
“You certainly don’t look like any abbess I’ve ever known, nor do you dress your girls particularly well, but times have changed since I was last in the city and I’m willing to be accommodating.”
The woman ground her teeth, but she ignored him, her eyes focusing on the woman still kneeling in front of him. “Violet, do you wish to stay here or come back to the house? You cannot do both.”
Violet looked up into Benedick’s eyes, a woeful expression on her face, and she slowly rose to her feet. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. And without another word she scuttled out of the room. The procuress didn’t move, looking at him with cool dislike. “Do not interfere with my girls again,” she said in a dangerous voice.
“Your accent is really quite extraordinary,” he said lazily. “One would almost assume you were a lady and not the keeper of a house of ill repute. I presume you don’t allow your girls to make visits—so be it. I will take my custom elsewhere. In the meantime, however, I wondered if you might be good enough to finish what Violet has started.” He reached for the fastening of his breeches, just to see what she might do.
She was gone in a flash, her simple gown flying out behind her, and he laughed as he sank into a chair. Annoying as she was, her ridiculous outrage was fascinating, much more so than Violet’s cheerful enthusiasm, even if she probably didn’t possess the same skills. Nevertheless, he could only assume she’d learned her trade well. If she didn’t bar him from the door he would have to see if she might be persuaded to dispense her own favors. Her anger with him had burned fiery hot, and it was most…enticing.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Richmond appeared, a worried expression on his face. “I’m sorry, my lord. Young Murphy opened the door and he didn’t know how to stop her. Is there any way I can be of assistance?”
“Not unless you can tell me the name and direction of the woman who just left this house,” he said, not expecting success.
Richmond’s disapproval was evident. “I believe your lordship is well acquainted with Miss Violet Highstreet.”
“Indeed, I am, Richmond. But who is the woman who came charging in here to interrupt us? I’m surprised you didn’t stop her.”
If anything Richmond looked even stiffer. “You are referring to Lady Carstairs, I believe.”
Benedick let out a snort of laughter. “Believe me, Richmond, the woman who stormed in here was a far cry from a lady. She was an abbess.”
“Much as I regret to disagree with you, my lord, that was Melisande, Lady Carstairs, relict of Sir Thomas Carstairs, who operates a haven for fallen women in her home in King Street. I rather believe Carstairs House is referred to as ‘the Dovecote’ for obvious reasons, and the lady herself is called ‘Charity’ Carstairs in reference