Vice

Juliana took the handkerchief with a mumble and buried her face in the starched folds, every muscle strained to sense how the duke was reacting.

"Tarquin?" Quentin demanded. "You must let her go."

"Certainly."

Juliana's head shot up at this. She regretted it immediately when the duke caught her chin and turned her face toward him. "That was quite a performance, migno

"Oh, you are loathsome!" she whispered, tugging her head free. "Let me go."

"But of course." He strode to the door and opened it. "You're free to go where you wish… except, of course, back to Russell Street. Mistress De

Juliana stared, uncomprehending. Was he really going to permit her to walk out of the house after everything that had been said?

"You may keep the clothes you have on your back, since the ones you arrived in appear to have been mislaid," he continued with an amiable smile that gave no hint of his i

Juliana looked down at her bronze silk gown, the fringe of the silk shawl. Where could she possibly go in such finery? She couldn't hire herself out as a servant dressed like this.

"Forgive me," he said gently, "but I grow weary holding the door for you."

Juliana walked past him, drawing her skirts aside. She marched down the stairs. The footman opened the door for her, and she stepped out into the street.

In the morning room Quentin turned on his half brother, rare anger snapping in his eyes. "How dare you treat her like that!"

"She's free to go. I won't keep her against her will. D'you care for sherry?"

"No," Quentin said shortly. "What's she to do now?"

"I really don't know." Tarquin poured himself a glass of sherry. "She must have had a plan when she arrived in town. I imagine she'll put it into effect now."

Quentin went uneasily to the window, but it looked out over the back of the house, and he could see nothing of the street. "I'll go after her," he said. "Offer her money, at least. She's so young to be let loose on the city."

"My sentiments exactly, dear boy." Tarquin sipped his sherry, regarding his brother with narrowed eyes. "Far too young. And far too i

"Gad, Tarquin, but you're a cold bastard," Quentin said as if he'd never spent three years in a seminary. "But if you'll do nothing for her, I will." He marched to the door just as it opened again.

Juliana stood there. Her eyes were on Tarquin. "Where am I to go?" she asked. "What am I to do?"

"Wherever and whatever you wish." he responded, but his voice had lost its hardness.

"You know what will happen to me That's why you showed me all those things this morning. isn't it?" Her face was paler than ever, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose standing out in harsh relief. Her eyes burned like green fire.

"My dear girl, you have no need to worry. I will give you some money and you can go home, back to your family." Quentin fumbled in his pockets.

Juliana shook her head. "Thank you. my lord. You are very kind, but you see I ca

Chapter 8

Mistress De

"Certainly," Tarquin said. "I wish to speak with her anyway." He turned to Juliana. "Stay within doors. You'll be sent for shortly." He strode up the stairs without a backward glance.

"Looks like you and 'Is Grace 'ave come to some arrangement," Mr. Garston observed with a benign smile. "Lucky girl. A right proper gent is 'Is Grace. 'E'll see you right." He pinched her cheek. "Such a long face, missie. There's no call fer that. The other young ladies will be green with envy, you mark my words."

"Then I wish one of them would take my place." Juliana said wanly. She turned restlessly back to the front door, still open behind her.

"Now, now, missie. You 'card what 'Is Grace said." Mr Garston moved his large bulk with surprising speed to close the door. "Y'are to stay within doors till yer sent for."

Like a slave obeying her master, Juliana thought, still stu

They sounded so lighthearted. How could they accept this degrading servitude so cheerfully? Perhaps they could teach her a valuable lesson in resignation. Juliana went into the drawing room.

"Oh, Juliana, come and sit down." She was greeted with warmth and enthusiasm by the trio of women sitting heads together on the sofa, leafing through a pattern magazine. "You've been driving with the duke. Has he formalized his offer for you yet?"

"What do you mean… formalized?" Juliana perched on the arm of a chair.

"Oh, he has to make arrangements with the De

"I am to marry the duke's cousin, Viscount Edgecombe," Juliana said flatly. She couldn't bring herself to tell them of the other half of the arrangement.

"Marriage!" gasped Emma. "Oh, my dear Juliana. How wonderful for you. You'll be set for life."

"So long as it's not a Fleet wedding," Lilly said darkly. "D'you remember Molly Petrie? She left Mother Needham's to marry Lord Liverton, only he took her to a marriage shop instead. And when he'd had enough of her, he threw her out with just the clothes on her back. And she ended up sleeping under the stalls in Covent Garden and taking anyone who'd give her a pe

"What's a Fleet wedding?" Juliana asked, curiosity finally penetrating her stu

"Oh, it's when they get an unfrocked preacher to perform the ceremony. There's marriage shops all around the Fleet," Lilly told her. "It's not a proper marriage, although sometimes the girl doesn't know it… like poor Molly."

"But that's dreadful!" Juliana exclaimed. "Wicked. It's evil to trick a woman like that."

Emma shrugged. "Of course it is. But men don't care. They do what they want. And there's not much any of us can do to stop 'em."

Juliana frowned fiercely, her straight brows almost meeting. "If you all got together and refused to be treated badly, then they'd have to change their behavior."

Lilly laughed indulgently. "My dear Juliana, don't be a simpleton. For every one of us who refused to give them what they wanted, there'd be half a dozen eager to take our place."

"It's not as if treating whores badly is a crime," Rosamund pointed out. "I mean, you couldn't go to a magistrate and lay a charge or anything."

"No, the magistrates are too busy persecuting us," Emma declared in disgust. "It's hard to earn any kind of a living if you're not in a respectable house. The others are always being raided, and the girls find themselves making a trip to Bridewell at the cart's arse."

Men and women whipped at the cart's tail through the streets of Winchester for vagrancy or disorderly behavior was a common enough sight, but Juliana had never expected to find herself in a world where such punishment was accepted as an occupational hazard. "I still think that if everyone protested, something would change."