Page 281 of Once an Angel
Sighing, Tansy spit on a handkerchief and dabbed at her cheek. Emily squirmed away, but Tansy
grabbed a fat ringlet and held her still. "There now. Keep yer 'ands away from yer face or we'll 'ave
to do it all again."
Emily gazed dourly at herself in the mirror. "I hate ruffles." She cast Tansy's reflection a pleading look. "Couldn't I be something more exotic? A Nubian princess? Or perhaps a harem girl?"
"Ye're a trifle light fer a Nubian, and Peggy's been promised the 'arem costume this week." Tansy gave her cheek a fond tweak. "Stop frettin'. Mrs. Rose says a ruffled little schoolgirl is every gent's dream."
Every gent but one, Emily thought grimly. She swallowed hard. "Who am I to argue with Mrs. Rose?"
Who was she, indeed? Last night the buxom mistress of the establishment had welcomed her in from
the storm as if she were a long lost daughter. She had dried her tears, tucked her into Tansy's bed, smothered her under a thick quilt, and coddled her with a devotion that made even Penfeld seem the
soul of cold neglect.
Tansy smoothed circles of rouge on her cheeks. When a door slammed in the next room, Emily started, shooting a streak of pink up to her temples. A female giggle was followed by a throaty grunt and then
by a rhythmic creaking that made the far wall shudder. Their gazes met in the mirror.
"Oh, no," Tansy groaned. "There ye go again. I keep puttin' pink in yer cheeks and it just keeps drainin' away."
She rested her hands lightly on Emily's shoulders. "Are ya sure this is what ya want, Em? It ain't too
late to turn back. '
Was it what she wanted? To be finally free? To pay her rent and board to Mrs. Rose out of her own pocket and not be dependent on someone else's charity? To never be beholden to any man—especially not Justin Connor? Even Penfeld had done what he had to do to win his independence from a life he no longer found tolerable. Surely she could find within her that much courage. Tansy was wrong. It had
been too late to turn back from the first moment she had laid eyes on her guardian.
From the next room came a guttural groan, then silence. The wall stopped rocking. Emily pressed her eyes shut. When she opened them, they had darkened to bitter sable. "I'm ready."
A fist slammed into the closed door. Emily jumped so high, she almost fell off the stool.
"Gor blimey, keep yer bloomin' drawers on," Tansy called out, pulling a ceramic chamber pot from a cupboard.
As she swung open the door, a disgruntled male voice rang out. '"Ell, Tansy, not again. Why can't ya
use the water closet like everybody else? Or are ya flat on yer back in bed too much?"
The open door blocked Emily's view, but she would have known that raspy voice anywhere. She lifted the skirts of the dressing table, searching for a place to hide.
Tansy cocked back the pot. "Empty it or wear it, Barney."
A wiry arm shot out to relieve her of her burden. "Damned uppity whore," he muttered. "Costs me a week's wages to get what I used to get fer free in the linen closet at Foxworth's."
Taunting him with a smile that would have melted an ice sculpture, Tansy lifted her shapely leg and rubbed it along the door facing. "But ya still pay, don't ya? '
Her provocative action sent the door swinging open, and Emily found herself staring into Barney Dobbins's greedy little pig eyes.
His mouth dropped open. The chamber pot tilted dangerously. "Hey! Wot's she doin' 'ere?"
Tansy gave his bony chest a shove. "Don't worry about it. It'd cost more than you've got."
He wiped his moist lips with the back of his hand. Emily shuddered. "Don't count on it," he said.
"I'll start savin' me pennies now. I've wanted a taste o' that fer a long, long time."
