Read Online Since the Surrender by Julie Anne Long - Free Book Online Page B

given much the same greeting, but it was still undeniably pleasant.
    “It has been far, far too long. A year? Two years?”
    Chase couldn’t recall, so he ignored the question.
    “Duchess.” He bowed low, because this was part of the ritual, and then he kissed her cheek, because he liked her. Her flesh was dusty beneath his lips, and she smelled of powder and rouge and a variety of other female unguents. “Always a pleasure. You’re looking radiant.” The radiance was in part a contrivance of rouge and lamplight, but age, and her profession clearly agreed with her. “The coronet suits you,” he added.
    She nodded regally and touched her hand to her complicatedly coiffed and hennaed hair, where a coronet did indeed precariously perch. “Thank you, Captain Eversea. It’s new. And real. Well, mostly real. A gift from an admirer.”
    “Of which you have many.”
    “Naturally.”
    “You may count me among them.”
    She tilted her head and looked at him for a tick of silence.
    “You’ll forgive me, Captain Eversea, if I observe that your compliment sounded a trifle rote. Might I suggest that you’re a bit distracted this evening? Or perhaps you’re in need of distraction?”
    Chase laughed.
    And when he laughed, all the female heads in the place turned so quickly and in unison they nearly created a wind. That’s when he realized that something was amiss: his was the only male laughter he’d heard since entering. The Velvet Glove’s front parlor, in his experience, was usually decorated with entwined malefemale duos or even trios, giggling and whispering, flirtations punctuated by the clink and gurgle of spirits endlessly poured and imbibed, and the creak of the stairs as some man was led up, often speedily.
    But now all he heard was low, desultory female conversation and, of all things, the pop of a faro box. The girls were seated around a table, and apart from the fact that their wares, as it were, were virtually as visible through their diaphanous clothing as delicacies were displayed in a shop window, they might have been matrons at a game table at Almack’s. One of the girls dangled her slipper from her toe in boredom. Another had her chin in her hand and was nibbling her bottom lip thoughtfully, examining her cards, brow furrowed.
    “Good evening, ladies,” he said solemnly.
    They each promptly struck a pose designed to reflect their best angles, card game forgotten. Some had decided a pout flattered them best. Two of them decided upon smiles. He turned to look at the Duchess, a brow upraised, and angled his chin toward the girls by way of asking a question.
    “Oddly, it’s been quiet of late,” she confessed, her voice lowered as though a crowd were indeed present and would overhear. “There must be a great shooting party in the country, or some such.”
    must be a great shooting party in the country, or some such.”
    “There might well be. I can tell you that Sussex, at least, was quiet when I left it. I’ve just arrived in London and haven’t been to White’s, so I haven’t been freshly apprised of any shooting parties that may have sent the men away or scandals that might be keeping them at home rather than out at brothels. I’m expected at a soiree at Callender’s tomorrow, so I know a few diverting friends will be on hand then. Perhaps I’ll discover a thing or two.”
    “Freshly arrived in London and you came straight to see us. I am flattered, indeed.”
    “As you should be,” he agreed, which made her laugh. “Any unsavory rumors concerning your establishment floating about that might deter visitors?”
    “No more so than usual. None that our usual crowd would spend a moment believing.” The Duchess ran her brothel as tightly and cleanly as Captain Eversea had run his regiment. “The crowd has only been a bit thin for nigh on a week or so. Perhaps a day or so longer than that? Please do tell Lord Kinkade that Marie-Claude is pining for him. He is her favorite