Mister Collins fell silent for several moments. “And you have someone in mind who would be suitable for this?”
Cedric’s back was to me, but I could picture his winning smile. “I have several.” He picked up a stack of papers and rifled through them. “Why, there’s Sylvia, a petite brunette who charms everyone she knows. Received very high marks in social planning—exactly who you’d want to arrange dinners and parties to impress your friends. And then we’ve got Rosamunde. Golden blonde hair. Excellent knowledge of history and political affairs. She can hold her own in any conversation with the elite classes—in a genteel, ladylike way, of course.”
Sylvia and Rosamunde, sitting near me, leaned forward eagerly.
“I do like blondes,” said Mister Collins grudgingly. “Is she pretty?”
“Mister Collins, I assure you, they’re all pretty. Beautiful. Stunning. Men are still reeling from the day they arrived in Cape Triumph.”
“I wasn’t there . . . but I’ve heard the stories.” Mister Collins took a deep breath. “How much would someone like this Rosamunde cost?”
“Well,” said Cedric, again going through the papers. I knew it was for show. He had all of our dossiers memorized and tended to make recommendations based on which girls simply hadn’t been pitched to prospective clients, in an effort to give us all exposure. I had yet to be suggested. “Her starting price would be two hundred gold dollars.”
“Two hundred!” exclaimed Mister Collins. “She’d cost two hundred gold?”
“Her starting price would, due to her rank. That number can easily go up if enough gentlemen bid and want to catch her attention. Between you and me . . .” Cedric leaned toward the other man conspiratorially. “Well, there’s been a lot of interest this week. Like you, many gentleman are partial to blondes.”
I’d only heard Cedric pitch Rosamunde as one of many other choices, but the idea that she was in demand was alluring to Mister Collins.
“That’s a lot of money,” he said uncertainly.
“That’s an investment,” corrected Cedric. I couldn’t help but smile. He was so charming, so self-assured. He probably could have sold Mister Collins on buying ten wives. “Tell me, when the governor hosts a formal dinner and has a new position to fill, what will his wife—a baron’s daughter, I hear—report back after conversing with Mister Stone’s daughter? And should one of His Majesty’s royal ambassadors visit, scrutinizing how well the New World is keeping pace with the old one, what will he say when he meets a farmer’s daughter? Will she be able to discuss arts and music? Be well informed on the intricacies of Denham politics? You yourself are of middle-class upbringing, I understand. You’ve certainly surpassed that, but I imagine a young woman skilled in aristocratic ways could be very useful to you as you navigate political waters.”
Cedric’s body language reminded me of some predatory animal, braced and ready for his prey to show a sign of weakness so that he could move in for the attack. Mister Collins fell silent once more. At last, he said, “May I see her?”
“Of course—at our opening ball, with everyone else. I’ll make sure you’re on our invitation list when we announce it.”
And that was how he left most of the men hanging, tantalizing them with the idea of a girl who was perfect for them but in demand by so many others. These gentlemen left consumed by the idea, soon imagining far more about us than Cedric could ever describe.
We’d been there about a week and a half when Cedric finally found a chance to pull me aside for a private conversation. “The painting and supplies are in the large cellar. Do you think you can find a chance to sneak in and finish?” The painting had been nearly complete when the storm hit, needing only a few last touches.
“If I can escape Mistress Culpepper. She watches everything we do—much more than Mistress Masterson ever did.”
He nodded. “I’ll find a way to get her out one afternoon. Tell her we need some emergency cloth or supplies for some girl or another. It’s not entirely hard to believe—the opening ball is at the end of this week.”
“Is it?” I asked. I’d known this lull couldn’t last forever but was still startled.
“The announcement’s being made tomorrow. This place’ll be chaos as Mistress Culpepper gets you all ready. It should be easy enough for you to slip away. There’ll be last-minute wardrobe problems and more men coming by to make another attempt at a private meeting before everyone gets a shot at you all.”
I gave him a sidelong look. “Why don’t you ever pitch me?”
“What?”
“I’ve watched most of your meetings. You rotate through all the girls, making sure each one gets highlighted to some suitor or another. But never me.”
“I’m sure I have,” he said lightly. “You probably just missed those particular meetings.”