He frowned, and she almost smiled. He scowled more than anyone else she knew. “But the weather is barely inhabitable out there.” He paused. “How far away do you live?”

“Not far,” she demurred. “It’s but a short walk.” She didn’t want to tell him that she had to collect her basket of laundry from Madame LeFleur’s first. And if she wished to keep the lady’s business, she had best get on her way. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she scurried outside.

The brisk wind nearly stole her breath. She had nearly forgotten that it was winter with the cheery fire burning in the back room of Mr. Reed’s shop. It had kept her quite comfortable all day. It wouldn’t be the same when she returned home, for they had to conserve their coal, but at least she would be out of the weather.

As she walked, Pleasant was glad that she hadn’t worn pattens that day. The metal would surely cause her to slide all over the slick cobblestones. Even so, she placed her steps carefully, so that she wouldn’t have an accident.

Pleasant had never liked going to Madame LeFleur’s establishment, but since she was one of her better paying customers, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the servant’s entrance, as she normally did for a delivery.

It was quickly opened by one of the ladies who worked there, and that was using the term rather graciously. Pleasant had never cared for Violet, and she was quite sure the feeling was mutual. With kohl-lined eyes and bright, henna-red hair, a dress that was barely covering her bodice, Violet snapped, “Where ’ave ye been all day? The Madame’s in a near fit!” She grabbed hold of Pleasant’s arm and hauled her roughly inside.

“I’m… sorry,” Pleasant muttered. “I have a new position with the cordwainer and I—”

“I dinna want t’ ’ear yer excuses,” the woman returned abruptly. She inclined her head toward the hallway. “She’s waitin’ for ye ’n th’ parlor.”

“But…” Pleasant stared toward that area uncertainly. “I always pick up the basket at the door.”

Violet crossed her arms. “I’m just doin’ wha’ she told me,” she said impatiently. “Now go, if’n ye wanna keep yer job here.”

Pleasant clenched her fists in frustration, but seeing as how there was no way to refuse, for her existence truly was in another’s hands, she strode forward.

As she drew closer, she heard raucous laughter drifting out from the open doorway. She had never dared to traverse this far, but then, she had never needed to before. For the past six months, she had always been greeted by one of the Madame’s “ladies” at the back door where they would conduct business. However, she’d never been this late with a pick-up before.

She wasn’t sure whether she ought to knock or not, but decided that it would seem rather foolish to do so. With a lift of her chin, Pleasant entered the room.

The first thing she saw was Madame LeFleur herself sitting and smoking a cheroot near the fireplace directly across from a well-dressed man. She was attired in a dark green, satin gown that showed off her black hair to perfection. It was only the second time Pleasant had seen the elusive Madame.

However, she did her best to focus on the lady and not the other people dotted about the room. One woman was sitting on a gentleman’s lap on the settee, giggling coquettishly, while another couple was standing off to one corner, having a rather lewd conversation, if the heated glance in the man’s eyes was anything to go by as he stared at the harlot’s nearly exposed bosom.

Pleasant stood uncertainly for a moment, but then the Madame glanced up and noticed her. “Ah, there is my wayward washerwoman,” she purred with a twist of her lips.

With a respectful curtsy, Pleasant said, “I’m very sorry about that, Madame LeFleur. I meant to send word earlier.” She explained about her apprenticeship with Mr. Reed, and when she did, she might have imagined it, but the man sitting next to the lady seemed to raise his brows in recognition. And now that she studied him briefly, she thought there might actually be a bit of a resemblance between him and her employer. But since her focus was placating the lady, she said, “I won’t have any problems getting the wash back to you first thing in the morning.”

The Madame shrugged indifferently. “I’m afraid that I had to go with someone else.” Pleasant’s hopes instantly sank, although she tried to not let it show.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Pleasant turned to leave.

“However,” the Madame spoke up. “I asked Violet to send you in to see me, for I have a rather different proposition for you.”

Pleasant wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but she slowly turned back around. “Yes?”

Her gaze was sly, her lips curved in invitation. “I have several clients that would pay handsomely for an untouched innocent. When I mentioned my lovely washerwoman, there was quite a bit of interest.”

A stone settled in the pit of Pleasant’s stomach. “No, thank you.” Again, she turned to go. And again, the lady’s words caused her to pause.

“You cost me quite a bit of trouble today. It’s not often that I let such a slight pass without consequence. Besides, it’s not as if you will need to save your purity for a husband someday. You’re not a fresh, London debutante who needs to concern herself with such nuances.”

“That may be,” Pleasant returned firmly, once more facing her former employer. “But I must decline your offer—”

“How much?”

Pleasant gasped as her gaze shifted to the man sitting with Madame LeFleur. While he was rather handsome in appearance, she had no desire to copulate with him. “Did you not hear—?”

She was cut off as if she hadn’t even spoken. “I should think twenty guineas ought to do it,” the Madame returned rather shrewdly.

Pleasant watched in stunned silence as the man stood up, withdrew a purse from his jacket pocket, counted out the requisite gold coins and handed them to the lady. She instantly shoved them into her bodice. “You are welcome to use one of my rooms if you wish, Lord Haverton.”

“I prefer my own lodgings, Madame LeFleur.”

He offered her a curt bow and then began to walk toward Pleasant. She was frozen in fear, not quite sure how she’d come here to pick up laundry and managed to have her virtue sold in the process, but she told herself he wouldn’t succeed.

She opened her mouth, prepared to let him know in no uncertain terms that he’d just wasted his money when he grabbed her arm more gently than she imagined he might have, and bent down to whisper in her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you, but if you don’t want Madame LeFleur to offer your services to anyone else tonight, I suggest you come with me.”

Pleasant knew she didn’t have long to decide her fate. Taking a risk and praying that he was sincere, she gave him a brief nod of acquiescence.

His face eased its tension somewhat as he steered her toward the front entrance of the establishment. He retrieved his outerwear and then they waited while his black lacquered carriage was pulled forward and the man standing sentry at the brothel opened the door that was lit with elegant lanterns. Lord Haverton waved his hand for Pleasant to precede him, and reluctantly she climbed inside.

She admired the maroon velvet, padded cushions, but when her companion entered and shut the door behind him, the sound caused her to jump, the finality of her precarious position like the clang of a prison door.

Pleasant barely felt the gentle jerk of the carriage as it set into motion. It was vastly different from a hackney, the few times she’d been fortunate enough to afford such accommodations. “Where are you taking me?” she dared herself to ask.

“Home, eventually,” he returned. She stiffened as he tossed his hat to the side, and once more she was struck by how much he favored her employer. But then, surely it must be a trick of the dim lighting. “I merely have a few questions first.”

She clasped her hands in her lap. She certainly owed him that much, considering he had saved her from a terrible consequence. “What is it you wish to know?”

He paused, as if weighing his words, and then he said, “You mentioned that you worked for a cordwainer by the name of Mr. Reed?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“I didn’t realize he had hired any new employees.”

While Pleasant was rather curious of this obvious interest from an upper crust gentleman in a common shopkeeper, she kept her thoughts to herself and replied, “There was a sign in the window yesterday advertising for an apprentice.”

“So he took you on?”

She could hear the disbelief in his voice and she drew herself up. “I realize it may be difficult to believe, since I am a mere woman, but I assure you I am qualified. My father was a cobbler in Ireland, and I assisted him many times.”

He held up his hands in supplication. “You misunderstand. I meant no disrespect, Miss…?”

He trailed off meaningfully, so she supplied her name. “Miss Pleasant Hill.”

His lips almost twitched into a smile. “Truly?”

She recalled Mr. Reed had shown a similar reaction. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I…” He started to explain, but then shook his head. “Never mind. Again, I beg your pardon if I seemed offensive. It’s just that I’m surprised Mr. Reed should have taken on any assistant. He’s usually rather…self-sufficient.”