The Courtesan's Courtship. Gail Ranstrom

a chance to verify my story, but I slipped away because I knew you all would be frantic once you heard the news. Does that not sound as if they suspect me of something?”

      Lady Sarah frowned. “But that is completely absurd. You would not harm a fly.”

      “No,” she agreed, “but they don’t know that. All they know is what they saw.”

      “Lord Geoffrey Morgan was there?” Sarah asked.

      “He advised me to go home and stay there until this was over. Can you imagine?”

      “That is good advice, Dianthe,” Sarah said. “But rather than go back to the Thayers’, I think you should come stay with me.”

      “Or me,” Annica said.

      “Or me.” Charity nodded. “You should be with one of us. I fear Mr. Thayer would not understand what we are about to do.”

      “What are we about to do?” Dianthe asked.

      “Why, investigate Miss Brookes’s death, of course. Once we prove you innocent, the police will have to leave you alone,” Lady Annica announced with confidence. “And they would not dare to bother you if you are with me and Auberville. He would never permit it.”

      Dianthe warmed with the knowledge of how much these ladies would sacrifice for her. But, of course, she could never permit it. She did not like putting the ladies at risk when it was her problem and her future hanging in the balance. Nor could she tell them about Nell’s last words—that she would be next. Or that she’d promised to stop Nell’s killer. They would never let her out of their sight if they knew that little piece of information.

      She shook her head. “Auberville is rising in government and I would not do anything to jeopardize that. And Sarah, I know your brother is being considered for Lord Barrington’s vacant post, so I would not have my scandal attached to your name. Likewise for you, Charity.”

      Annica frowned, little lines forming between her dark eyebrows. “I appreciate your sensitivity to the matter, Dianthe, but your safety is paramount. We shall write to your sister at once. She and McHugh will return from the Highlands to take charge of this. But that will take two or three weeks. It is possible that Grace and Mr. Hawthorne will return in the interim, but we cannot count on that. Meantime, we must find a safe place for you. And I frankly do not think Mr. Thayer has the necessary connections to provide that. You belong with one of us.”

      Dianthe clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. Oh, how she wished she could accept Lady Annica’s invitation. But as terrified as she was, these women had been far too good to her family to taint them with her scandal. She took a deep breath and launched her carefully prepared lie. “I have my own plan. I have already packed a small valise and left a note for the Thayers saying that I shall find lodgings elsewhere. No—” she held up one hand to silence their questions “—I shall not tell you with whom. I do not want you to have to lie should the authorities ask. The arrangements are quite proper and I could not be safer.”

      “What will you do?”

      Dianthe fought back her encroaching fear. She took a deep breath and lied as if she’d been born to it. “I will keep out of sight until the matter is resolved. Please, there is no need to worry.”

      Lady Annica sighed. “We shall begin making inquiries, Dianthe. Now the Wednesday League is fighting for one of our own. Someone is bound to find out something.”

      “Do you have the funds you will need?” Lady Sarah asked.

      “I believe so.” Dianthe hedged. She had little more than ten pounds, but if they knew her plan to investigate the murder herself, they’d take her in, tie her to her chair and keep her locked up until her family came for her.

      Lady Annica frowned. “When, Dianthe? When shall we see you again?”

      “Heavens! There may be no need of even a week. The police may find the murderer today and I shall be safely back with the Thayers by tomorrow.”

      “Do you promise to meet with us every other day?”

      That was a small price to pay for their peace of mind. “Promise. But if the police are looking for me, they will watch your houses. Shall we meet at La Meilleure Robe?”

      Charity nodded. “Madame Marie will accommodate us, and we shall put Mr. Renquist on this case at once. A Bow Street runner will be just the thing to hurry this along. Should you need anything—money, shelter or assistance—you know we stand ready to assist you.”

      “Yes,” she said, “I know.”

      “I fear for you, Dianthe. The streets of London are fraught with danger,” Lady Sarah warned. “All sorts of unscrupulous people are waiting to take advantage of an unwary woman.”

      Dianthe stood and smoothed the skirts of her gown. “I shall be wary, Lady Sarah, and quite safe withering away in hiding. If you must be concerned, be concerned over my utter boredom,” she said with a wisp of inspiration.

       Chapter Two

       “I am sorry, Miss Smith, but I cannot let you a room,” the clerk at the desk of Emery’s Hostel for Women told Dianthe. “It is not our policy to rent to unchaperoned young ladies.”

      She glanced around the spotless lobby, which was nearly deserted in the late afternoon, and fumbled with her reticule, wondering how one went about bribing a clerk. “I assure you, sir, that my aunt will be arriving later this evening. I…I will pay extra if that will ease your mind.”

      The clerk’s bushy eyebrows lifted at that. “Later? You traveled to town alone?”

      “She…ah, sent me ahead.”

      “That is most unseemly, Miss Smith. Perhaps you and your…aunt would be more comfortable at Desmond’s?”

      He didn’t believe her! He thought she was a woman of questionable virtue. She’d never been refused admittance anywhere, and this was an insult she could scarcely suffer in silence. She’d give the man a set-down if necessity didn’t require discretion. Her cheeks burning, she lifted her valise and walked into the street.

      In truth, she’d already tried Desmond’s Hostel and had been refused there, too, and another three hostels besides. She would go back to Aunt Grace’s home on Bloomsbury Square, but returning there would be tantamount to walking into the Bow Street office and announcing her name.

      Fighting frustrated tears, she found a vacant bench in the square across from the hostel and sat dejectedly, despairing of finding a safe place to spend the night. Her empty stomach growled. She’d never had to provide for herself or depend on her wits for survival before, and she fought the creeping fear that she was doomed to failure.

      After a brief rest, she stood and retrieved her valise. Her last chance for shelter tonight was just around the corner. She prayed the little flat above Madame Marie’s shop was still vacant. If she could stay there for a few days, surely this mess would be straightened out.

      She arrived at La Meilleure Robe just as Madame Marie was locking up for the night. The modiste opened the door and admitted her before locking it and pulling the shade over the window. Dianthe glanced around the dimly lit foyer and dropped her valise on a chair to remove her gloves.

      Madame Marie peeked out at the street from behind the shade before turning to her. “Chérie! Where ’ave you been? My ’usband ’as been looking for you all day.”

      “Mr. Renquist is looking for me? Whatever for?”

      “The ladies ’ave told ’im what is afoot. But ’e already knew. Orders ’ave come down from Bow Street that all runners are to appre’end you on sight and bring you to the Bow Street station for questioning.”

      “Drat,” she muttered under her breath. “Now I shall truly have to stay out of sight. Is the room upstairs still vacant, Madame?”

      “No, chérie. It was let