Read Online An Angel for the Earl by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online

and percentages for all those silly card games, surely you can manage to figure out crop rotation and irrigation.”
    â€œMy father never did.”
    â€œIs that what you want
your
son to say? Oh, bother.” She seemed to be looking for something, searching for nonexistent pockets or a dangling reticule. Finally she pulled a piece of paper from the air above her head. “Ah-ha. The code of chivalry.”
    â€œNow you’re the one with attics to let. What in blazes does the code of chivalry have to do with mangel-wurzels and milch cows?”
    â€œSee, you do know something about agriculture.” Lucinda was studying her notes, biting her lower lip in a way that made Kerry wish she really were Lucille, his belle de nuit.
    â€œDon’t you even think it, sirrah,” she said, reading either his mind or the bulge in his breeches. “And the code of chivalry is another doctrine of conduct, one it might behoove you to consider as a modus vivendi.”
    â€œWhat, more medieval dogma? Are you going to bring back chastity belts, too?”
    â€œOne or the other might have kept you out of such a place as this.”
    There was an unmistakable note of disdain in Lucy’s voice that robbed him of the last amorous thoughts, but not regrets for what might have been. “And what’s so wrong with a house of accommodation? It’s just a service like any other, buyers and sellers. No one is injured.”
    â€œâ€˜Chivalry,’” she read, “‘a canon dedicated to the protection of the weak, defense of the innocent, reverence for the purity of women.’”
    â€œHere? Weak, innocent, pure? Were you born under a cabbage leaf? Prostitution is a trade the girls pick, like becoming a seamstress, only with more chance of advancement.”
    Lucy shook her head sadly. “Wickedness must weaken your mind, too. Come with me.” And she took his hand. That is, she made his hand tingle, so he followed her.
    Lucy led him down the deserted hall, around a corner, and up a flight of uncarpeted stairs. Motioning for silence, she pushed open one of the doors there. By the light of the hall candle, Kerry could see a room no bigger than a closet really, with a pitched roof that made it impossible to stand in, filled wall to wall with a ragged mattress. Three girls slept under one thin blanket, tumbled together like kittens.
    â€œThe one on the end is Lucille,” Lucy whispered, nudging him forward.
    Feeling like some kind of voyeur, Kerry ducked his head and took two steps into the room. Yes, there was the red hair, only it seemed to be the dead color of henna dye rather than auburn or carroty or Lucy’s vibrant gold-streaked red. They’d forgotten to dye the chit’s eyebrows, which were still pale brown. But she was young; Lil hadn’t misled him about that. Sixteen perhaps, unless it wasn’t just the innocence of slumber making her seem a veritable babe.
    â€œFifteen,” Lucy whispered, “and fresh from the country. The family’s farm fell under the enclosures, her brothers went to the mines. Lucille knew a girl who had a position as a housemaid in London, so her mother sold her wedding ring for the girl’s coach fare. Lil met the coach.”
    Kerry could still see the tear tracks down the girl’s cheeks. “My God, I didn’t know—” But of course he did. He’d heard the stories, even joked how the girls got younger every year. “What can I do?” he asked helplessly.
    â€œFor Lucille? Nothing.” He put a gold coin under her pillow anyway, before backing out of the room. There was a small chance she’d find it before one of the other girls did, or Lil.
    â€œBut you can do much for all the rest of the Lucilles,” Lucy was going on as she preceded him down the steps, then down the carpeted public stairway and out to the cold night air. “You can speak out in Parliament against child