Rose bowed her head, her emotions in a muddle. Her beautiful mother had been faced with such a choice? Her mother had chosen love. Had that not been right?
Her father’s eyes filled with tears. ‘She got sick, but I was here in London. Working. Never to see her again—’ He lowered his head, his shoulders shaking.
Tears poured down Rose’s cheeks as well. If she had not been born, perhaps her mother might have returned to the stage. Perhaps she would have become the darling of the London theatre. But her mother had chosen marriage and childbirth and poverty. If she had chosen that earl, perhaps she would have lived.
Rose put her arms around her father. ‘Well, I’m meeting the marquess, so there’s nothing to fear.’
He lifted his head again and gave her a watery smile.
Rose returned a fond look. She wanted to sing, not only for herself, but for her mother. Let her mother live again through her.
Letty called from her corner of the room. ‘What are you talking about, Alroy? I hope you are telling your daughter to get off her duff and take what this marquess wants to offer us.’
‘I have convinced her, I think.’ Her father sniffed and patted Rose’s hand again.
‘I’ll meet the marquess, Papa,’ she repeated.
He smiled again and raised his glass to his lips. Rose left her chair and went to her bedchamber to don her hat, gloves and shawl. When she returned to the parlour, Letty was busy talking with her father of where they might live when the marquess’s money was in their pockets.
‘Henrietta Street, I’m thinking,’ Letty was saying. ‘But a proper house, not three rooms—’
‘I’m going out, Papa,’ Rose broke in.
Her father looked up. ‘There’s a good girl, Mary Rose. Watch out for yourself.’
‘That’s right.’ Letty laughed. ‘We don’t want you damaged.’
Rose walked out the door and down to the street. It was a grey day, and she hoped it would not rain. She headed for Covent Garden to find a hackney carriage.
She had never visited Katy, who now lived at Madame Bisou’s gaming-house. Madame Bisou had invited Katy to live there after they left Miss Hart’s. The other girls had chosen love, Rose reminded herself.
Rose wanted success, now more than anything.
She found a carriage and told the coachman, ‘Bennet Street, please.
He let her off at the junction of Jermyn Street and Bennet Street and she walked to a sedate-looking house where anyone might have lived. A large footman answered her knock.
‘Good day to you,’ Rose said. ‘Would you please be telling Miss Green that Miss O’Keefe has come to call?’
The footman put a finger to his cheek. ‘Miss Green?’ His confusion suddenly cleared. ‘Oh. Katy. Just a moment.’ When he returned he said, ‘Follow me.’
He led her above stairs to a sitting room. Both Katy and Madame Bisou sprang to their feet when she entered.
‘Rose! How good to see you.’ The madame kissed Rose on both cheeks. ‘You’ve not been here since Katy moved in.’
‘Forgive me, Madame,’ Rose responded, only now realising how much she had missed this woman with her false French accent. The girls had quickly figured out Madame Bisou was not really French. The madame’s hair colour, an unnatural red, was false as well.
There was nothing false about her large breasts, pushed up to show to best advantage in her low-cut dress, nor about her generous, loving nature. Rose gave her a heartfelt hug.
Katy came over and Rose also hugged her. ‘Who’d have thought you would visit? Vauxhall’s newest flower doesn’t need a gaming hell.’
Madame Bisou stepped out of the room to arrange for tea and Katy pulled Rose on to a settee.
‘So why are you here?’ Katy asked. ‘Have you met up with the marquess? Have you come to tell us about it?’
‘Not exactly,’ Rose said. ‘But you are not far wrong.’
‘I knew it!’ said Katy.
Madame Bisou walked back in. ‘Tea will be coming, but I must not stay, Rose. I must get back to Iris.’
Katy turned to Rose. ‘Iris was badly hurt last night.’
Rose did not know the girl. ‘I am sorry to hear of it.’
‘She went with me to Vauxhall,’ Katy cried. ‘But I left her with some fellows when Sir Reginald showed up.’
‘It was not your fault, Katy,’ Madame Bisou said. ‘These things happen.’
‘What happened?’ Rose asked.
Katy’s eyes flashed. ‘She went with some man. A gentleman, she thought, because he had fine clothes, but he tied her up and used a whip on her—’
‘Used a whip!’ Rose exclaimed.
Madame Bisou crossed her arms over her chest, squeezing out even more décolletage. ‘I ought to have told you girls of this, but, how could I?’
‘Told us what?’ Rose asked.
Madame Bisou sat down, facing them. ‘Some men seek their pleasure not in the usual way.’ She paused. ‘Some get their senses aroused by inflicting pain.’
Rose glanced to Katy. ‘Pain?’
‘Oh, I see,’ Katy said. ‘Whips and things.’
Rose looked to Madame Bisou. ‘Men get pleasure from using whips?’
‘Well, it’s a rare one that does—not that you don’t find plenty, mind you,’ Madame Bisou went on. ‘Most men, you know, are easily led if you make them think they are seducing you, but some … some get an arousal when they hurt a girl. It is their pleasure to inflict pain. Like a bully, n’est-ce pas?’
Rose felt sick at the thought.
‘A Frenchman wrote a book about it,’ Madame Bisou added.
Rose put her hand on her chest. ‘Oh, Katy, you must take care!’
Katy waved a hand. ‘I can handle myself.’
‘Do you know who hurt the poor girl?’ Rose asked the madame.
She shrugged. ‘Iris said he wore a mask.’ She patted Rose’s hand. ‘I assure you, we do not allow such men in this gaming hell. If we hear of such a man, or if one dares mistreat one of the girls, Cummings tosses him out.’
Rose shook her head. ‘But Katy is out and about. At Vauxhall, where so many men wear masks.’
Katy laughed. ‘Do you think I cannot spot a viper like that?’
Madame Bisou cautioned her. ‘It is sometimes difficult. You cannot tell merely by looking at a man.’ She stood. ‘I must go.’ She took Rose’s hand briefly. ‘Katy has told me of your marquess. That is good for you, Rose. Tannerton is a good man.’
Even Madame Bisou sang his praises.
Katy settled back in her seat. ‘Tell of the marquess. That is what I wish to hear.’
Rose could not help but think that