Keeping Faith
Fair Cyprians of London Series (Book 3)
By Beverley Oakley
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About Keeping Faith:
"My beautiful Revenge." Four years ago, Faith’s mysterious benefactress falsely accused her of stealing and deposited her in Madame Chambon’s exclusive brothel.
There, Faith was to learn how to entrance London’s noble gentlemen with her learning in philosophy, politics and art.
Her body was to be saved for the greatest enticement of all: revenge.
Faith doesn’t care what she has to do. She lives only to fulfil a bargain that will set her free.
But when Faith is recruited as the muse of a talented, sensitive painter whose victory in a prestigious art competition turns them both into celebrities overnight, she discovers the reasons behind her mission are very different from what she'd been led to believe.
Now she is complicit in something dark and dangerous while riches, adulation and freedom are hers for the taking.
But what value are these if her heart has become a slave to the man she is required to destroy?
Genre - historical romantic suspense
Heat Level - Medium
Keeping Faith
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Excerpt:
“What did you learn last night?”
“A gentleman must always believe he knows best.”
Confident that her answer was pleasing, Faith reached
across the table to help herself to a macaroon but a sharp slap across the back
of the hand stopped her progress by the silver teapot.
Her smile of feigned contrition was rewarded with a
raised eyebrow from Madame Chambon. Not an invitation to partake of a macaroon,
unfortunately. The table laden with eclairs and petit fours in Madame’s private
sitting room was merely for show.
“Greedy girl, Faith! You can eat at the Dorchester
tomorrow and I daresay you won’t even spare a thought for the other girls who
are justified in being somewhat jealous of your cossetted life.” Madame sniffed
as she patted one of the grizzled, orange curls of her elaborate coiffure.
Faith suspected a squirrel’s pelt had made its contribution. “I’m sure they
wonder every day why you never have to stir yourself – or anyone else, for that
matter – to get your fine clothes or a roof over your head.” Madame Chambon
piled three macaroons onto her already laden plate before making a sweeping
gesture that encompassed the furnishings of her surprisingly decorous private
sitting room with its gold tasseled green velvet curtains and flock wallpaper.
“What have you told them, Faith? About why you are here, I mean?”
Faith’s stomach rumbled as she gazed from the prints of
the famous artists that lined the walls to the fine fare in front of her,
ordered from Fortnum and Mason. These monthly sessions in table manners were
supposed to give Faith the practice she needed to deport herself like a lady
when eating in public. However, under Madame’s guardianship, Faith never
actually got to try the specialties.
“Answer me, Faith. In all the three years that you’ve
been here, you’ve had to do precisely nothing to justify your existence. Surely
the girls have questioned you? I have my own version of the truth for them, as
you know, but I’d be interested to hear what you have to say.”
Faith didn’t answer. She already knew how lucky she was,
but Madame was not ready to drop the subject, despite having just crammed an
entire chocolate éclair into her mouth. Faith just managed to make out the
muffled words, “Every night you lie peacefully in your bed while the other
girls have to earn their livings.”
Lying peacefully in her bed was not how Faith would
describe the restfulness of her slumber. She was kept awake every night by the
grunts and cries of ecstasy that penetrated the thin walls of her attic
chamber.
Still, she’d finally learned when it was wise to respond
meekly, so she bowed her head and stared at her neat kid gloves while dreaming
of the delicacies Mrs. Gedge would order for them when Faith really was dining
with her at the Dorchester Hotel the following afternoon. The Sacher Torte Mrs.
Gedge had ummed and aahed over before finally choosing the baked Alaska from
the sweets trolley last month still haunted her. However, since part of Faith’s
tutoring included how to win over reluctant gentleman ‘and make them wild with
wanting’ which is how Madame phrased it, then surely Faith could persuade her
American benefactress to order the Austrian chocolate specialty?
She was so busy rehearsing her words for tomorrow that
she almost missed Madame’s prophetic and appalling statement.
“Well, Faith, the time has come for you to start earning
your way, now.”
Faith brought her head up in shock. Was Madame teasing?
When it appeared not, she gripped the table edge as she struggled for
composure. For so long she’d known the reckoning would come. Yes, and with
three years preparing for it, she’d believed she could meet it head-on with the
necessary fortitude.
But there’d been no warning.
She began to shake, biting into her bottom lip and
clasping her hands in her lap to try and keep secret the manifestations of her
terror from Madame who’d only be spurred onto gloating and make her suffer even
more.
“Mrs. Gedge reported last month that she wasn’t entirely
happy you were ready for what she has in store for you when she took you to
tea, Faith.” Madame chewed noisily, unperturbed, it seemed, by the crumbs that
landed on her gaudy vermillion skirts.
Faith didn’t suggest that Mrs. Gedge’s dissatisfaction
was perhaps the fault of Faith’s tutor – the one sitting in front of her - who knew
nothing about deporting herself as a lady.
With a dainty gesture using only her forefingers, Madame
Chambon raised her plate and licked at the crumbs that had not been dislodged
before saying, “Fortunately, Lady Vernon is recovered at last from her long
indisposition and has agreed to forget your rudeness to her from six months
ago. In fact, she’ll be here shortly. Yes, she’ll soon have you passing the
scrutiny of the most discerning duchess.” Madame gobbled down another macaroon
with as much finesse as the dogs Faith’s father used to goad into fighting each
other after they’d fought over the scraps from the scrubbed wooden table at the
farm. Not that there’d been many scraps with ten children to feed.
“Should we not have waited for Lady Vernon?” Faith
suggested, daringly. But she had to say something to stop herself from
launching into a volley of querulous questions about exactly what form this
‘having to earn her own way’ might take.
Madame Chambon pushed aside an untouched plate of bread
and butter to reach for another chocolate éclair and sighed. “There was just so
much food on the table it seemed unnecessary to wait if her ladyship was going
to be late. Ah! And here she is.” Madame’s orange painted mouth turned up at a
knock on the door. “Shoulders back, Faith! And make sure you don’t talk with
your mouth full.”
Since this was not a danger, Faith supposed there might
be some compensation in having to face her former nemesis who surely must
subscribe to the belief that learning table manners required one having to eat.
Madame threw her arms wide in a welcome as the door
opened to admit the new arrival. “Good evening, Lady Vernon. We’re so glad
you’ve recovered from your chest ailment,” she gushed. “A good rest has done
you the world of good. Why, you look ten years younger. Just as you do every
time I see you, in fact. And we’re indeed humbled that you’ve consented to
return.” Madame simpered at the elderly woman, dressed all in black who looked,
Faith thought, even more wraith-like than usual as she pinned up the veil of
her bonnet and took the seat at the table proffered by Madame who went on, “I’m
sure you’ll feel even better once you’ve heard Faith’s heartfelt apology.”
Faith blushed under the scrutiny of the two pairs of
expectant, unforgiving eyes, and glanced longingly at the remaining macaroon.
Yes, there were times when it was worth being abject.
She mightn’t mean what she said, but if the last three years under Madame
Chambon’s roof had taught her one thing, it was how to sound heartfelt and
sincere when she felt anything but.
“I’m sorry for my rude comments about…” Faith hesitated.
Perhaps it was best not to stir up old memories. While it must be perfectly
obvious to anyone who met Lady Vernon as to why an earl’s daughter could remain
a spinster into her sixtieth year, it hadn’t been in anyone’s interest –
Faith’s least of all, it turned out – for Faith to have gone into quite such
specific and extensive detail regarding her thoughts on the likely reasons. “I
behaved like a child, though it’s such a long time ago, now, I can barely
remember what was going through my head at the time. I was only seventeen and,
in those days, prone to losing my temper but now I’m eighteen and, thanks to
all your efforts in teaching me how to act like a lady, Lady Vernon, I’m so far
from the rude and impulsive young thing I was before, you’d not recognise me
today. Thanks to your thorough tutelage, I am determined that I will never
speak out of turn, to you, or anyone. Indeed, I have changed! I truly believe
that, confronted by a table of delicacies like this, for example, I would
certainly not embarrass you or Mrs. Gedge or any lovely young man or his mother
who might take me out to tea by any show of greediness or lack of restraint.”
Lady Vernon’s eyes remained fixed firmly on Faith for
the duration of this speech with no indication of how forgiving or otherwise
she might prove to be.
After a long silence, she spoke. “Restraint?” She
sniffed. “Restraint is the most important requirement of any young lady, Faith.
I’ve told you this many times, so I’m glad it’s a lesson you claim to have
finally learned.”
With her eyes fixed on Faith, she reached towards the
remaining macaroon that sat lonely on its plate just in front of them both, her
long-fingered hand hovering just above. “Please pass that to me, Faith. I can’t
seem to reach it.”
Wordlessly, Faith complied, schooling her features into
impassivity while she railed inside, I hate you! I hate you! as she watched
Lady Vernon transport the coconut confection to her thin, bloodless lips.
“Delicious,” Lady Vernon murmured. “In fact, I believe
it is the best macaroon I have ever tasted? You must surely agree, Faith, since
the plate is now empty.”
Other Books in the Series:
Saving Grace
📗📘📙📚
Forsaking Hope
Beverley Oakley’s Bio:
Debutantes, widows and the occasional courtesan test society’s boundaries in Beverley Oakley’s wicked, passionate historical romances dripping with scandal, intrigue, and suspense.
Her Fair Cyprians of London series is about a group of determined and clever courtesans at a high-class Soho brothel who use their wit and beauty to avenge past betrayals - and who find lasting love along the way.
How can there be a happily ever after? is a question many a reviewer has asked before admitting to being delighted and satisfied by the unexpected plot twists and surprise endings – just like in Beverley’s own life. You can read more on her website.
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