Free Vice and Virtue by Veronica Bennett

Deede will never ask a Protestant woman to marry him, as well you know.”
    “It is not a proposal of marriage the man has in mind!” cried Edward scornfully. “It is a … a flirtation. A gratification of his desires.”
    Aurora tried to remain calm. “Edward, hear me. You wished me to ingratiate myself with Josiah Deede’s son, but are jealous when I do. So—”
    “That was when I thought he was a fop and a fool! But now you say he is neither of those things!”
    “So what would you have me do?” demanded Aurora. “Do you seriously imagine that I – who would not consent to the ‘gratification of the desires’ of a man who married me under false pretences – will now succumb without scruple to the attentions of the first handsome man I see?”
    He had the grace to hang his head. “Aurora…”
    “And if Joe Deede should wish to court me,” she continued frostily, “he had better begin forthwith. He has less than a month, remember.”
    They regarded each other for a moment. Neither of them pointed out that Edward’s own courtship of Aurora had lasted less than a quarter of an hour.
    “I beg you, forgive me,” said Edward wearily. “I have not the right to be jealous. Though jealousy was never a respecter of rights.”
    Aurora was strongly tempted to sulk. But she resisted; this was no time for pettiness and flouncing. “Have no fear,” she told him. “When I go to Mill Street tomorrow, I shall be wary of everything, including Joe Deede’s attentions. I will encourage them, because I am trying to ingratiate myself with the family. But that does not mean I am being disloyal, to my husband or my God. It is a pretence .”
    He nodded. “Of course. I understand that, and I must tolerate it as best I can.”
    “Very well.” Aurora was suspicious of this apparent humility. His eyes were still watchful. “Edward,” she ventured, “have I displeased you?”
    “Not at all.” He shook his head. “Your night’s work has been very successful. But I am disturbed by the discovery of my father’s lies. He taught me always to be truthful.”
    Aurora almost laughed aloud. Truthful!
    “Then…” she began in an ironic tone, “would he not be sorely grieved by the deceptions you perpetrated upon me, and are continuing to perpetrate upon the Deedes, on his behalf?”
    His black eyes flicked to hers. He had heard the irony. “Yes, he would. But think of the alternative! Everyone in society whispering about my sudden disinheritance? Years of bearing my disgrace without prospect of redress? I cannot imagine it.”
    Pity and impatience fought each other for a moment in Aurora’s heart. But the bleakness of Edward’s countenance decided the matter. “Then I make you a promise,” she said stoutly. “Tomorrow, I will find a way to bring Henry Francis into the conversation. If I detect the smallest chink in the Deedes’ facade I will not rest until I have something to report to you.”
    Edward took hold of her hand, massaging absentmindedly the finger where her wedding ring, which she had removed within twenty-four hours of her marriage, should be. “I know you will not,” he said with wistful satisfaction.
    Despite the firmness of her words, a sudden stab of apprehension caught Aurora unawares. What would she face tomorrow? She withdrew her hand, retrieved her hat and gloves from the table and opened the door to the inner room. “And now,” she said, “I confess myself exhausted. I bid you goodnight.”



Edward’s Library
    A urora did not know the streets of Mayfair, though she knew the area was a good address. Many premises advertised themselves as milliners, glovers or wig shops. Others sold more unnecessary things like silver and porcelain, silk-covered cushions and gilded mirrors. She noticed the pristine books in the booksellers’ window, quite different from the cracked covers and grimy pages of those offered by Samuel Marshall at the sign of the Seven Stars. Prices, no doubt, were