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very least, she mustn’t give Mavreen any reason to think that she didn’t appreciate her woman’s charms. She took the girl’s hands in her own and lifted them to her lips, slowly kissing each slender white finger. “You are exquisite, Mavreen.” She forced herself to look at the girl’s gently sloping shoulders, and then down to the fullness of her breasts. Her waist was small, an asset, Hetty supposed.
    “Oh, thank you, my lord,” Mavreen said, her voice breathless and filled with relief. She dared not think what would have happened to her if she failed to please Lord Monteith. “Would you like me to disrobe now?”
    Hetty pretended to ponder Mavreen’s question. Lord, the last thing she wanted was to have a naked girl standing in front of her. She tried to determine exactly what a man would say and do. As the answer was an obvious one, she was forced to charter new ground. She replied casually, “No, I think not now, Mavreen. Actually, I would know more about you, and why you are afraid of Lady Buxtell.”
    Oh God, Mavreen thought wildly, he wasn’t a customer. He must be one of her spies. “Oh, my lord, she is really a very kind mistress. She most kindly took me in when I would have starved in the streets.”
    “I doubt that. You’re terrified of her. You may trust me, you know.”
    “I don’t know what you mean, my lord.” She saw a gleam of anger narrow Lord Monteith’s dark blue eyes. “I’m being stupid. Let me undress you, my lord. Shall I take you in my mouth? Shall I fondle you with my hands?”
    “No,” Hetty said. “You may tell me if you’re a trollop.”
    “Oh God, I’m not, I swear it. I was a virgin, my lord. It is true that she pulled me from the street, but it wasn’t my fault that I was there. After word came that my Uncle Bob was dead, the creditors came to our milliner shop and all but threw me out. I had no money and no family I could go to. She told me that I was very lucky, that I would be deflowered by a handsome lord. It was Sir William Filey.” She gazed helplessly up at Lord Monteith. “It was awful. He hurt me horribly. He was worse than the others. Some of them were even nice to me, petting me like I was a dog or something if I managed to please them.”
    Through a haze of unshed tears, Mavreen realized that she had disgraced herself. Lady Buxtell would be informed that she was unworthy of her protection. She would starve in the streets, alone, friendless. She jerked her hand free of Lord Monteith’s and covered her face. She sank to her knees and began to sob. “I don’t want to starve in the street, I don’t. I’m too young to starve.”
    Hetty stared down at the crumpled girl at her feet. Sudden anger exploded through her. That this girl no more than a child should be forced to be a whore just to survive. It wasn’t right.
    Hetty became suddenly brisk. “Come, Mavreen, no more tears. We have work to do.” She pulled a handkerchief from her waistcoat pocket. “Dry your tears. I believe that you and I have much to talk about.”
    “You’re not going to tell Lady Buxtell that I wasn’t what you wanted?”
    “Oh no,” Hetty said. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to save you.”
     
     
     
Chapter Seven
     
     
    Gray streaks of dawn lit the black sky when Pottson at last delivered Miss Hetty through the servants’ entrance into Millie’s hands. He’d argued with her only briefly, for her soul-deep anger had stilled his tongue.
    He sighed and shook his head as he turned from Sir Archibald’s town house in Grosvenor Square to make his way back to Thompson Street. This latest exploit of Miss Hetty’s was making his gray hair frizzle even more than the last time she’d teased him about it. Imagine Miss Hetty a young, gently reared lady in a brothel. He lowered his head into the howling February wind, so tired from his long night of waiting for Miss Hetty that his legs trembled with fatigue. He wondered what Millie was going to say when she heard