Free When You're Desired by Tamara Lejeune Page B

pounds! I’d never have to work another day in my life. And, best of all, I’d still be free . No husband. No lord and master. No horrid old dowager shooting me nasty looks down the length of the breakfast table. Just me, and all that lovely, lovely money.”
    â€œYou don’t mean to say that if the Duke of Berkshire asked you to marry him, you’d say no?” cried Fitzclarence.
    â€œOf course not. I’d say yes. Once the engagement is announced formally, I can name my price. His mother will pay anything to be rid of me. Then, when I have got my money, I shall jilt him.”
    â€œThat’s wicked!” cried Eliza London, staring at her.
    â€œNo, it isn’t,” said Celia. “It’s business. If they want to get rid of me, they’ll have to pay. It doesn’t do for girls like us, Miss Eliza, to feel sorry for them. We live with their boots on our necks every day of our lives. I’m just getting my own back.”
    â€œI don’t live with nobody’s boot on my neck,” Eliza said indignantly. “Not since I left the Temple of Venus.”
    â€œWere you at the Temple of Venus, Miss Eliza?” Fitzclarence said in astonishment. The Temple of Venus was a brothel that catered to the very rich.
    â€œI was,” she said. “For ten years. You wouldn’t recognize me, though. My hair was bright red in them days. People used to say, ‘Don’t look now, dearie, but your ’ead’s on fire!’ I got so sick of it.”
    â€œTen years ?” said Celia, taken aback. “Why, you can’t be more than seventeen!”
    Eliza nodded. “That’s about right, I suppose.”
    Celia was shocked, but as Eliza herself seemed quite unconcerned, she quickly changed the subject. “And where do you live now that you have left the Temple of Venus?” she asked. “In rooms over some dismal shop, I suppose?”
    â€œRooms over a shop?” said Eliza. “Wouldn’t that be lovely! I suppose you live in rooms over a shop, Miss St. Lys?”
    â€œNot bloody likely,” Celia said scornfully. “I have a house in Curzon Street.”
    Eliza glanced at Fitzclarence. “Of course. I should ’ave known ’e’d keep you in a ’ouse like a gen’leman.”
    â€œKeep me?” Celia said indignantly. “Nobody keeps me, child. I am my own mistress. It’s not a very large house, but it’s mine. I bought it with my own money, and no one can ever take it away from me.”
    Eliza’s eyes were round. “Nobody keeps you? But what about the Capting?”
    Celia and Fitzclarence exchanged a glance and laughed.
    â€œIf anything, she keeps me,” said Fitzclarence.
    â€œWe’re not lovers, Miss Eliza,” Celia said quickly.
    â€œShe’s much too old for me,” Fitzclarence explained.
    â€œYou see, Miss Eliza, when you are as famous as St. Lys, you can’t go anywhere without a gentleman escort.”
    â€œYou mean—”
    â€œHe means,” Celia said dryly, “that I ‘pie’ him.”

Chapter 5
    â€œBlimey,” said Eliza, staring. “You must be very rich indeed, Miss St. Lys!”
    â€œI do all right,” Celia admitted.
    â€œMust be nice,” Eliza ventured, “being an hactress.”
    Celia lifted her brows. “Oh? You think it’s easy, do you?” she said coldly.
    â€œWell . . .” said Eliza, not sure what she had said wrong.
    â€œShe only meant that you make it look easy,” Fitzclarence said soothingly.
    Celia did not wish to be soothed. “People always think it’s so easy, but actually it’s a lot of hard work. Can you act, Miss Eliza? Can you sing? Dance?”
    â€œI can sing,” Eliza said in a small voice.
    â€œOf course you can sing,” said Fitzclarence. “Anyone with a voice can sing. Come! Let us hear you. Do you know ‘Hot