Lady of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle Page A

Embracing her, she whispered, “Be sure not to give him any more than three dances. I hear it isn’t respectable. And you know me. I know all about respectable.”
    A choked laugh escaped her. Yes. Leave it to Mary to know all about death and respectability.

Two hours later
    The Whittle House
    What was far worse than all the heat, and the smell of fading perfume mingling with the stuffy night air, was being at the mercy of her brother who was annoyingly intent on marrying her off to any man, as long as he was wealthy, titled and ‘respectable.’
    Only five men in London met those criteria.
    And all of them lived with their mothers.
    Which was why Caroline did her best to avoid her brother and said men by staying close to her own mother.
    After roaming every corner of the ballroom for almost two hours with her mother, wondering if she’d somehow misheard the announcement of Caldwell’s arrival earlier that night, she sighed and decided to abandon all thoughts of sharing a dance with him. Drat him.
    A movement within the crowds caught her eye. She paused.
    An elegant woman with lightly silvering, rich mahogany hair, garbed in a stunning, alabaster silk and lace gown sashayed toward her. A small, crescent scar graced the upper tip of her arched brow giving her a mysterious, exotic look. Her pale neck was draped with a large, intricately engraved gold locket.
    It was like a character had magically stepped forth from the pages of The Arabian Nights’ Entertainment . All the woman needed was a flying carpet and a prince.
    The lady inclined her head to Caroline as if they knew each other.
    Caroline hesitated but politely inclined her head, in turn.
    The countless pearls woven into the woman’s mahogany hair gleamed against the vast candlelight of the ballroom as she promenaded closer. She paused before Caroline with a sumptuous grace that only years of practice could perfect.
    Snapping open her ostrich fan, the woman leaned in, bringing a delicate scent of verbena and offered from behind the fan, “Forgive the intrusion, Lady Caroline, but Lord Caldwell wishes to meet you out in the nearest alcove, away from the crowds. He hopes you will oblige.”
    Caroline felt a rush of heat flooding her face. Though the woman knew her name, she hadn’t even bothered to introduce herself. Caroline glanced toward her mother who was intently watching the couples dance before scanning the crowds surrounding them. Too many faces made it difficult for her to see if Caldwell was, in fact, anywhere nearby.
    The woman closed her fan with the roll of satin gloved fingers. “Is there a response you would like me to deliver to him?”
    Caroline lowered her chin. Who was this woman to Caldwell that he would entrust her with such a message? And in public? Something told her not to engage it. For all she knew this was how the ton initiated unsuspecting debutantes into the realm of scandal-ridden fame. “I would think any gentleman making such a request of a lady is no gentleman at all. Therefore I will not even dignify it with a response.”
    That distinguished face became more intrigued. “Surely, given your great affection for Lord Caldwell, he has earned far more respect from you than that.”
    Caroline’s breath hitched. Who was she? And how did she know about her affection for Caldwell? Not even her brother knew of it. “’Tis obvious I missed our introduction, madam. I am Lady Caroline. And you are?”
    “A friend.” Amber eyes intently held hers. With the tip of her fan, she pointed off to their side. “Follow him out in a few minutes when he leaves the room. Only don’t be too obvious. You don’t want anyone to suspect.” Inclining her head, the woman departed.
    Several older gentlemen stepped aside for her regal frame, all of them inclining their heads toward her, and with rehearsed respectability only allowed their beady eyes to follow her as she sashayed into the crowds and disappeared.
    What was that? Caroline glanced in the