concurs: “In private she is withdrawn and melancholy,” I quote.
I told you Lady Devon knew Miss Villier’s mother. Lady Chauncey reportedly also knew Violet Villier quite well, and has sent some interesting information we should investigate in all haste. It would seem she knows who Miss Villier’s father is. (Is, not was, implying he is yet living.) If the information proves to be true, you will be astounded.
Sit down while I tell you my most recent news. I have learned that Mme. Desmarais is not merely a society matron; she is also known in more sordid avenues as a sort of madam. Wealthy men employ her services in acquiring the most desirable and expensive courtesans. Lady Chauncey discovered Mme. Desmarais has been grooming Miss V. for this purpose and is engaged in a sort of bidding war over her.
READ ON! Sit down and un-crumple the paper, Andrew. Thankfully, Lady Chauncey is in Miss V’s confidence and assures us she will not allow it to happen. “The Three Fates,” as I dubbed them (my dear Ladies Chauncey, Lambrick and Devon, that is), are at this moment hatching a scheme to thwart Mme. Desmarais.
I intend to forward the information on Mme. Desmarais to Mr. Cox. I cannot believe he is aware of the danger, and I trust he will be enraged to learn of Mme. Desmarais’ duplicity. In his defense, Mme. D. is crafty and succeeded in fooling many a great deal wiser than ourselves.
I know by now you have ordered your fastest horse. May I remind you that you lack Miss Villier’s address? Please stop at Rougemont before sailing for the continent. I will provide you with the necessary information and assistance, along with some items of interest. While I can’t pledge I will defy the Lord Courtenay to the fullest extent, I cannot in good conscience abandon Miss Villier to a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You have my help, as well as the formidable “Three Fates.”
I presume to have the pleasure of your company shortly.
Wil
Chapter Seven
Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.
Pericles, Prince of Tyre , William Shakespeare
November of 1871, Paris, France
“Miss Villier, do not look now, but one of the five wealthiest men in England walked through the entrance.” Madame Desmarais fanned herself and glanced past the crowd of dancers at the latest arrival. “ Diantre, but surely he is the most beautiful!” She told Alysia to “keep court” while she investigated the newcomer.
Alysia opened her fan and obediently kept her back to the doorway. She gave a weak smile to Vicomte Evigny at her left as he prattled on in French about his vineyards in Bordeaux. She hadn’t known it was possible to merge the topics of wine production and the seduction of women. Alysia didn’t care for his innuendo about preferring a tart flavor to dry. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
A chevalier on her right by the name of Leduc held out a glass of champagne for her, ogling her décolletage, unaware she had caught him. Or perhaps he was unabashed. At any rate, Alysia began to question what manner of company Mme. Desmarais had introduced to her this evening. She knew Vicomte Evigny was married, as were a few others in her “court,” as Mme. Desmarais called it.
Granted, she was no expert on the ways of French society, but it didn’t stand to reason that this was respectable behavior in any country, and she didn’t like the attention. She was careful not to encourage them. Not that she pretended to be better than another member of the demimonde, but the men here this evening seemed to be under the impression that she was not respectable.
“Why bother with the banalities of producing wine, when you can enjoy the finished work directly?” interrupted Lord Ramsgate, an English baron, as he put yet another champagne flute in her hand. His fingers grazed hers, lingering much longer than necessary. Alysia was obliged to at least taste from each drink offered her. At this rate
I told you Lady Devon knew Miss Villier’s mother. Lady Chauncey reportedly also knew Violet Villier quite well, and has sent some interesting information we should investigate in all haste. It would seem she knows who Miss Villier’s father is. (Is, not was, implying he is yet living.) If the information proves to be true, you will be astounded.
Sit down while I tell you my most recent news. I have learned that Mme. Desmarais is not merely a society matron; she is also known in more sordid avenues as a sort of madam. Wealthy men employ her services in acquiring the most desirable and expensive courtesans. Lady Chauncey discovered Mme. Desmarais has been grooming Miss V. for this purpose and is engaged in a sort of bidding war over her.
READ ON! Sit down and un-crumple the paper, Andrew. Thankfully, Lady Chauncey is in Miss V’s confidence and assures us she will not allow it to happen. “The Three Fates,” as I dubbed them (my dear Ladies Chauncey, Lambrick and Devon, that is), are at this moment hatching a scheme to thwart Mme. Desmarais.
I intend to forward the information on Mme. Desmarais to Mr. Cox. I cannot believe he is aware of the danger, and I trust he will be enraged to learn of Mme. Desmarais’ duplicity. In his defense, Mme. D. is crafty and succeeded in fooling many a great deal wiser than ourselves.
I know by now you have ordered your fastest horse. May I remind you that you lack Miss Villier’s address? Please stop at Rougemont before sailing for the continent. I will provide you with the necessary information and assistance, along with some items of interest. While I can’t pledge I will defy the Lord Courtenay to the fullest extent, I cannot in good conscience abandon Miss Villier to a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You have my help, as well as the formidable “Three Fates.”
I presume to have the pleasure of your company shortly.
Wil
Chapter Seven
Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.
Pericles, Prince of Tyre , William Shakespeare
November of 1871, Paris, France
“Miss Villier, do not look now, but one of the five wealthiest men in England walked through the entrance.” Madame Desmarais fanned herself and glanced past the crowd of dancers at the latest arrival. “ Diantre, but surely he is the most beautiful!” She told Alysia to “keep court” while she investigated the newcomer.
Alysia opened her fan and obediently kept her back to the doorway. She gave a weak smile to Vicomte Evigny at her left as he prattled on in French about his vineyards in Bordeaux. She hadn’t known it was possible to merge the topics of wine production and the seduction of women. Alysia didn’t care for his innuendo about preferring a tart flavor to dry. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
A chevalier on her right by the name of Leduc held out a glass of champagne for her, ogling her décolletage, unaware she had caught him. Or perhaps he was unabashed. At any rate, Alysia began to question what manner of company Mme. Desmarais had introduced to her this evening. She knew Vicomte Evigny was married, as were a few others in her “court,” as Mme. Desmarais called it.
Granted, she was no expert on the ways of French society, but it didn’t stand to reason that this was respectable behavior in any country, and she didn’t like the attention. She was careful not to encourage them. Not that she pretended to be better than another member of the demimonde, but the men here this evening seemed to be under the impression that she was not respectable.
“Why bother with the banalities of producing wine, when you can enjoy the finished work directly?” interrupted Lord Ramsgate, an English baron, as he put yet another champagne flute in her hand. His fingers grazed hers, lingering much longer than necessary. Alysia was obliged to at least taste from each drink offered her. At this rate
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