would have rung a bell alerting the Sisters of Charity that yet another deposit of an unwanted, pink-faced infant had been made.
Juliette gathered the beads in her fist and held them tight. Her heart cried out for the loss of the page that had been stolen from her today. Not wanting anyone to question her about it, she had only quickly scanned it. Then sheâd tucked it in her basket, planning to later scrutinize it at leisure, here in her private room.
It had been a silly, costly whim to have it stolen in the first place. But from the moment sheâd learned of the bookâs existence, sheâd longed to know whatever details of her beginnings it contained. Another orphan mightâve been allowed to view his or her personal information, but she dared not reveal her identity at the hospital and risk being turned over to authorities.
She had not expected to be surprised by anything she read on that page, but she had been.
For directly below her name, there had been another, familiar one.
Elise.
A sharp rapping came at her door, causing her to jump.
â Mademoiselle ?â
â Un moment!â Juliette hastily replaced the necklace in its box and then the box in its hiding place. Her domestique had arrived to fuss over her. In less than one hour, she was expected downstairs. And then tonightâs performance would begin.
âSweet victory,â Monsieur Valmont murmured from beside Juliette.
Her breath caught as she peered at the new arrival through the decorative punched-metal screen. It was he. The man from the bridge. The one whoâd given her her first orgasm.
Wasnât it? She leaned closer to the grillwork trying to get a better look through the perforations.
From the privacy of this upstairs nook, she and Valmont observed the golden giant whoâd entered the salon below them on the main floor of the townhouse. Only snatches of conversation, music from the harpist, and tinkling laughter reached them here so they didnât hear his introduction. Two dozen other gentlemen had already gathered in the salon before him, and a dozen more would likely come before the evening was done.
Agnes, Gina, Fleur, and the other girls circulated among them, all brightly gowned coquettes who knew how to flirt, flatter, and fornicate. M. Valmont always sent them down first to work the group and build anticipation in preparation for her entrance. They were the appetizers, he liked to say. And she, the main course.
In moments Juliette and Valmont would join the assemblage and she would hold court under his keen supervision. But for now, they lingered here to discuss the patrons with a frankness that would have been impossible in a more public venue.
âIâd hoped he might come. But I dared not expect him,â Valmont continued as the new arrival made his way into the room.
âWho is he?â Juliette enquired, carefully concealing any sign of recognition. When her companion didnât reply, she glanced his way and saw he was so fixated on his surveillance of the man that he hadnât even heard her.
In the center of the room below, the giant paused to contemplate the bubbling of the marble absinthe fountain. Valmont had installed it when theyâd arrived in Paris a year ago and it had become a popular feature of these gatherings. Since the blight had devastated vineyards throughout Europe over the last decade, wine was in short supply. As a result, its cost had risen and this had ignited great interest in the less expensive absinthe as a substitute.
When Fleur approached the new guest with an offer of refreshment, he allowed her to divert him toward the wine cart. Though she was but sixteen and was fairly new to the household, Valmont had recently decided to involve her in the business rather than keep her to the kitchen, much to Julietteâs dismay. However, delighted with her new finery and increased income, Fleur had taken to the work of pleasuring men with surprising
Juliette gathered the beads in her fist and held them tight. Her heart cried out for the loss of the page that had been stolen from her today. Not wanting anyone to question her about it, she had only quickly scanned it. Then sheâd tucked it in her basket, planning to later scrutinize it at leisure, here in her private room.
It had been a silly, costly whim to have it stolen in the first place. But from the moment sheâd learned of the bookâs existence, sheâd longed to know whatever details of her beginnings it contained. Another orphan mightâve been allowed to view his or her personal information, but she dared not reveal her identity at the hospital and risk being turned over to authorities.
She had not expected to be surprised by anything she read on that page, but she had been.
For directly below her name, there had been another, familiar one.
Elise.
A sharp rapping came at her door, causing her to jump.
â Mademoiselle ?â
â Un moment!â Juliette hastily replaced the necklace in its box and then the box in its hiding place. Her domestique had arrived to fuss over her. In less than one hour, she was expected downstairs. And then tonightâs performance would begin.
âSweet victory,â Monsieur Valmont murmured from beside Juliette.
Her breath caught as she peered at the new arrival through the decorative punched-metal screen. It was he. The man from the bridge. The one whoâd given her her first orgasm.
Wasnât it? She leaned closer to the grillwork trying to get a better look through the perforations.
From the privacy of this upstairs nook, she and Valmont observed the golden giant whoâd entered the salon below them on the main floor of the townhouse. Only snatches of conversation, music from the harpist, and tinkling laughter reached them here so they didnât hear his introduction. Two dozen other gentlemen had already gathered in the salon before him, and a dozen more would likely come before the evening was done.
Agnes, Gina, Fleur, and the other girls circulated among them, all brightly gowned coquettes who knew how to flirt, flatter, and fornicate. M. Valmont always sent them down first to work the group and build anticipation in preparation for her entrance. They were the appetizers, he liked to say. And she, the main course.
In moments Juliette and Valmont would join the assemblage and she would hold court under his keen supervision. But for now, they lingered here to discuss the patrons with a frankness that would have been impossible in a more public venue.
âIâd hoped he might come. But I dared not expect him,â Valmont continued as the new arrival made his way into the room.
âWho is he?â Juliette enquired, carefully concealing any sign of recognition. When her companion didnât reply, she glanced his way and saw he was so fixated on his surveillance of the man that he hadnât even heard her.
In the center of the room below, the giant paused to contemplate the bubbling of the marble absinthe fountain. Valmont had installed it when theyâd arrived in Paris a year ago and it had become a popular feature of these gatherings. Since the blight had devastated vineyards throughout Europe over the last decade, wine was in short supply. As a result, its cost had risen and this had ignited great interest in the less expensive absinthe as a substitute.
When Fleur approached the new guest with an offer of refreshment, he allowed her to divert him toward the wine cart. Though she was but sixteen and was fairly new to the household, Valmont had recently decided to involve her in the business rather than keep her to the kitchen, much to Julietteâs dismay. However, delighted with her new finery and increased income, Fleur had taken to the work of pleasuring men with surprising
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