Sophy had liked both women on sight and it was a fortunate circumstance because Julian had more or less abandoned her to their company. Sophy had seen very little of her husband for the past week and nothing at all of him in her bedchamber. She was not quite certain what to make of that situation but she had been too busy, thanks to Fanny and Harry, to brood over the matter.

"Now then, Fanny said as Anne began to cut open the pages of the small book, "you must not keep us in suspense any longer than is absolutely necessary, Anne. Start reading at once."

Sophy looked at her hostesses. "Are these Memoirs actually written by a woman of the demimonde?"

"Not just any woman of that world but the woman of that world," Fanny assured her with satisfaction. "It is no secret that Charlotte Featherstone has been the queen of London's courtesans for the past ten years. Men of the highest rank have fought duels for the honor of being her protector. She is retiring at the peak of her career and has decided to set Society on its ear with her Memoirs."

"The first installment came out a week ago and we have all been eagerly awaiting the second," one of the other ladies announced gleefully. "Anne was dispatched to fetch it for us."

"Makes an interesting change from the sort of thing we usually study and discuss on Wednesday afternoons, doesn't it?" Harriett observed blandly. "One can get a little tired of trying to muddle through those rather strange poems of Blake's and I must say there are times when it is difficult to tell the difference between Coleridge's literary visions and his opium visions."

"Let us get to the heart of the matter," Fanny declared. "Who does the Grand Featherstone name this time?"

Anne was already scanning the pages she had opened. "I see Lords Morgan and Crandon named and, oh, good heavens, there's a royal Duke here, too."

"A royal Duke? This Miss Featherstone appears to have fancy tastes," Sophy observed, intrigued.

"That she does," Jane Morland, the dark-haired, serious-eyed young woman who was sitting next to Sophy, remarked. "Just imagine, as one of the Fashionable Impures, she's met people I could never even aspire to meet. She's mingled with men from the highest levels of Society."

"She's done a fair bit more than just mingle with them, if you ask me," Harriett murmured, adjusting her monocle.

"But where did she come from? Who is she?" Sophy demanded.

"I've heard she was nothing more than the illegitimate daughter of a common streetwalker," one of the older women observed with an air of amused disgust.

"No common streetwalker could have caught the attention of all of London the way Featherstone has," Jane announced firmly. "Her admirers have included a good portion of the peers of the realm. She is obviously a cut above the ordinary."

Sophy nodded slowly. "Just think of all she must have been obliged to overcome in her life in order to have obtained her present position."

"I would imagine her present position is flat on her back," Fanny said.

"But she must have cultivated a great deal of wit and style to attract so many influential lovers," Sophy pointed out.

"I'm sure she has," Jane Morland agreed. "It is quite interesting to note how certain people possessed only of flair and intelligence seem to be able to convince others of their social superiority. Take Brummell or Byron's friend, Scrope Davies, for example."

"I would imagine Miss Featherstone must be very beautiful to have become so successful in her, uh, chosen profession," Anne said thoughtfully.

"She's not actually a great beauty," Fanny announced.

The other women all glanced at her in surprise.

Fanny smiled. "It's true. I've seen her more than once, you know. From a distance, of course. Harry and I noticed her just the other day, in fact, shopping in Bond Street, didn't we, Harry?"

"Dear me, yes. Quite a sight."

"She was seated in the most incredible yellow curricle," Fanny explained to her attentive audience. "She was wearing a deep blue gown and every finger was ablaze with diamonds. Quite a stunning picture. She's fair and she's possessed of passable looks and she certainly knows how to make the most of them, but I assure you there are many women of the ton who are more beautiful."

"Then why are the gentlemen of the ton so taken with her?" Sophy asked.

"Gentlemen are very simple-minded creatures," Harriett explained serenely as she lifted a teacup to her lips. "Easily dazzled by novelty and the expectation of romantic adventure. I imagine the Grand Featherstone has a way of leading men to expect both from her."

"It would be interesting to know her secret methods for bringing men to their knees," a middle-aged matron in dove gray silk said with a sigh.

Fanny shook her head. "Never forget that for all her flash and glitter, she is as chained in her world as we are in ours. She may be a prize for the men of the ton but she cannot hold their attention forever and she must know it. Furthermore, she cannot hope to marry any of her high-ranking admirers and thus move into a more secure world."

"True enough," Harriett agreed, pursing her lips. "No matter how infatuated with her he might be, no matter how many expensive necklaces he might bestow upon her, no nobleman in his right mind is going to propose marriage to a woman of the demimonde. Even if he forgot himself so far as to do so, his family would quickly quash the notion."

"You are right, Fanny," Sophy said thoughtfully. "Miss Featherstone is trapped in her world. And we are tied to ours. Still, if she managed the trick of raising herself from the gutter to the level where she apparently is today, she must be a very astute female. I believe she would make a very interesting contribution to these afternoon salons of yours, Fanny."

A ripple of shock went through the small group. But Fanny chuckled. "Very interesting, no doubt."

"Do you know something?" Sophy continued impulsively, "I believe I should like to meet her."

Every other pair of eyes in the room swung toward her in startled disbelief.

"Meet her?" Jane exclaimed, looking both scandalized and fascinated. "You would like an introduction to a woman of that sort?"

Anne Silverthorne smiled reluctantly. "It would be rather amusing, wouldn't it?"

"Hush, all three of you," one of the older woman snapped. "Introduce yourselves to a professional courtesan? Have you lost all sense of propriety? Of all the ridiculous notions."

Fanny gave Sophy an amused glance. "If Julian even suspected you of harboring such a goal, he would have you back in the country within twenty-four hours."

"Do you think Julian has ever met her?" Sophy asked.

Fanny choked on her tea and quickly set down the cup and saucer. "Excuse me," she gasped as Harriett slapped her familiarly between the shoulder blades. "I do beg your pardon."

"Are you all right, dear?" Harriett asked with mild concern as Fanny recovered.

"Yes, yes, fine, thank you, Harry." Fanny's vivacious smile swept the circle of anxious faces. "I am perfectly all right now. I do beg everyone's pardon. Now then, where were we? Oh, yes, you were about to start reading to us, Anne. Do begin."

Anne plunged eagerly into the surprisingly lively prose and every woman in the room listened with rapt attention. Charlotte Featherstone's Memoirs were well written, entertaining, and deliciously scandalizing.

"Lord Ashford gave Featherstone a necklace worth five thousand pounds?" a horrified member of the group exclaimed at one point. "Just wait until his wife hears about that. I know for a fact that Lady Ashford has been forced to practice the most stringent economy for years. Ashford is forever telling her he cannot afford new gowns and jewels."

"He's telling her the truth. He probably cannot afford them for his wife as long as he is buying them for Charlotte Featherstone," Fanny observed.