Free On the Bare by Fiona Locke Page B

pleasant.’
    ‘But the shame!’
    ‘It’s not so bad really, miss. I mean, there’s worse things. Like being hungry and cold and not having nowhere to sleep.’
    ‘There are indeed worse things,’ I said bitterly. ‘Like Captain Hawksley.’
    The maid pursed her lips, a peculiar expression which I marked at once.
    ‘What, Polly?’
    She took a breath and looked me right in the eye. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, miss, I think perhaps it ain’t such a bad match.’
    I opened my mouth to curse the villain’s name, but stopped myself.
    ‘He’s a handsome one,’ she continued quickly. ‘Young too. Not like them old gentlemen what we had round here last month. And … he does seem able to … well, I ain’t exactly sure how to say it, miss.’
    I finished her thought. ‘Handle me.’
    Polly blushed and looked away.
    I was silent for a long time, considering. My bottom hurt terribly and the indignity had been awful. But now that it was over I did feel calmer. And Polly was right; the sensation now wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
    ‘Well, good night, miss,’ she said, turning to go.
    ‘Good night, Polly.’
    But as she closed the door I called her back. She was at my side in an instant.
    ‘Yes, miss?’
    ‘If my uncle does insist on this marriage,’ I said, choosing my words carefully, ‘I’ll need a ladies’ maid. One who … understands.’
    ‘Certainly, miss!’
    Polly beamed and kissed me impulsively on the cheek, a familiarity that might have enraged me before tonight. Now it made me smile.

Old-Fashioned Solutions
    ERICA STARED UP at the building, checking the address. Pebbledash post-war houses bracketed the nondescript brick façade, as though vouching for the normality of whatever went on inside. She’d walked past it twice before locating the tiny brass number 17 on the wall, partly obscured by ivy. She glanced at the business card again, worrying it between her fingers.
    Modern problems, old-fashioned solutions
    Ranks of butter-yellow tulips stood to attention either side of the path leading to the windowless door. Not exactly inviting, but somehow – enticing? Was that the word?
    Behaviour modification
    Conscience clearing
    Below that was an address. No phone number, no website. No clue to what the business was.
    A few days ago she’d been flipping desultorily through a rack of business cards at the supermarket. Taking two cards that promised to help consolidate her debts, she’d blinked as the words ‘old-fashioned’ and ‘behaviour’ jumped out at her from another card. The cryptic phrases gave her a funny feeling inside. And Erica knew instinctively that this place offered exactly what she needed.
    She made her way up the path and stood nervously before the door. There was no bell and the idea of knocking filled her with unease. It seemed too self-assured, too decisive, when she was anything but. Indeed, what was she supposed to say when someone answered?
    All her life Erica had been quiet and unassuming. Still single at thirty-five, she had never done anything that could be called adventurous. She lived with four golden retrievers in the seaside cottage where she’d grown up and she made a tidy living designing wedding cakes. But she had one serious vice: eBay.
    She spent countless hours online, searching for obscure treasures – antiques, old photographs, vintage clothing. The ease of Internet shopping had been her downfall, catering as it did to impulsive and often reckless behaviour. She’d even found one of the dogs on eBay.
    It wasn’t just the money she spent, though. Online auctions brought out an aggressive streak in Erica. As soon as she found something she wanted, she considered it hers. She was outraged and affronted if someone dared to bid against her. The anonymity gave her courage she didn’t have in the real world. She was a proper keyboard-warrior when she felt wronged, telling off sellers for items that had been poorly packaged or weren’t exactly as