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  The Harlot’s Hero

  by Tabetha Waite

  Author’s Disclaimer

  I wanted to warn anyone who might be sensitive to the material in this story. It is meant to entertain, not to concern the reader. Rest assured, it has a happy ending and there is no unnecessary violence or brutality involving women. In truth, I wanted the opposite of what I’ve heard about in historical retellings, for isn’t that what a romance is all about?

  Copyright © 2021 Tabetha Waite

  Cover Design by Forever After Romance Designs

  Model Photography by Period Images

  This title is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever, including but no limited to photocopy, digital, auditory, and/or in print, without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations for a review.

  Also by Tabetha Waite

  Ways of Love Historical Romance Series

  How it All Began for the Baron (Christmas prequel novella)

  Why the Earl is After the Girl (Book 1)

  Where the Viscount Met His Match (Book 2)

  When a Duke Pursues a Lady (Book 3)

  Who the Marquess Dares to Desire (Book 4)

  What a Gentleman Does for Love (Book 5)

  Season of the Spinster Series

  Triana’s Spring Seduction (Book 1)

  Isabella’s Secret Summer (Book 2)

  The Spinster’s Alluring Season (Book 2.5)

  Alyssa’s Autumn Affair (Book 3)

  Korina’s Wild Winter (Book 4)

  Novellas

  Twelve Gifts by Christmas

  Lord Castleford’s Fortunate Folly (Fortunes of Fate #1)

  A Lady’s Guide to Marriage

  A Promise Beneath the Kissing Bough

  Miss Pageant’s Christmas Proposal

  The Scot’s Bairn

  Bedeviling Lord Coxford

  The Brunette Who Stole His Heart (A Tale of Two Brunettes – Book 1)

  In Love with a Charming Brunette (A Tale of Two Brunettes – Book 2)

  Novels

  Behind a Moonlit Veil

  The Secrets of Shadows

  The Piper’s Paramour

  Anthologies

  Heyer Society (non-fiction essays)

  The Young and the Ruined (Various Historical)

  Short Stories

  Love’s Frozen Kiss

  Love Out of the Ashes

  The Magic Shield

  The Journey Toward Hope

  Thistles & War

  Four Calling Cards

  Table of Contents

  The Harlot’s Hero

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Dedication

  To the fabulous actors and actresses who starred in the Hulu original series, “Harlots.” Thanks for giving me the inspiration to write about my own harlot, but one who has a decidedly happier ending.

  Chapter One

  London, England

  Spring 1797

  The knock at Persephone’s bedroom door made her jump.

  “Are you ready, love?” the feminine voice called from the other side.

  Sephy, as most of the women in her mother’s bawdyhouse referred to her, looked at her reflection in the mirror attached to her scarred dressing table and clutched the oak surface. Tonight, she was to be bartered to the highest bidder, her virtue a sacrifice that would start her down the path of unrighteousness.

  She slowly exhaled and tried to gain control of her nerves. As long as she’d lived she’d known this was the road she would take, and while some girls started out in the world of pleasure much younger, her mother had granted her a reprieve until she’d turned seventeen. Some would claim she was spoiled to be given such an extension of her innocence, but Sephy wouldn’t have traded a single moment of that freedom, for it was soon to be stripped away.

  “Coming, Mama.” She took one last look at her powdered face and the heart-shaped patch on her left cheek. Both of which were quickly going out of fashion, but still remained a lark to the men when it came to such a prized event as the purchase of a virgin.

  Her hair had been left down to shine in all its glory, the rich golden amber shades something her mother said the men would covet highly for it was an unusual color. But it was her blue eyes, stark and wide and slightly fearful that Sephy must control. She had been trained, not only in the art of proper speech and deportment like any other lady of society, but also in the mystique of seduction. Walking out into the crowded assemblage like a frightened doe ready to bolt would not endear her to the gentleman anxious to bow over her hand.

  Gathering her courage, Sephy opened the door and faced her mother, Madam Phryne Welton, named after an ancient Greek courtesan, on the other side. The middle-aged woman had unassuming brown hair and eyes, but she was dressed like a duchess in her red silk sack-back gown. Sephy was a bit more modest in her white robe de gaulle with a light pink ribbon about her waist, but then, her mother claimed the innocent style would add to her allure.

  The lady smiled broadly. “You are a vision, Persephone. The gentlemen will be fawning over you this evening.”

  Sephy worried her lower lip. “Do you think so?”

  Her mother laid a hand on each of her shoulders. “Men are feeble-minded creatures who are led only by their prick or a bit of coin. Never doubt your ability as a woman to attract attention. News has already spread of your purity and the room is filled with eager spectators hoping for a glimpse of the paragon of this house.” She touched her cheek. “And you are a paragon, my dear. After tonight, you shall be the toast of London. I have no doubt you will soon have a protector.”

  Sephy inhaled a deep breath and nodded. This was her moment. She had been trained to be a courtesan, and while some of the teachings she had yet to fully understand, tonight would be the start of a brand new journey.

  There was no turning back.

  Her mother opened the door into the main receiving room of their house in Covent Garden and instantly the laughter and raucous conversation ceased as Sephy walked forward. There was a dais set up like a stage in one corner of the room where her fellow ‘nymphs’ were dressed in white Grecian robes that held little to the imagination.

  Sephy glided across the room and took a seat in the upholstered chair in the middle, which had been held for the guest of honor. Candles lit up the expanse, gleaming off the marble floor and adding a decadent glow as fragrant blossoms of varying flowers in tall vases made a lavish display. It was an extravagance that her mother had gladly spared, for the cost of Sephy’s purity would exceed even the smallest bit of luxury this evening. After tonight, her mother would likely be set for years to come.

  She tamped down her nerves and began to greet her loyal subjects. Men of varying ages, social status, and wealth, wearing excessive breeches and stockings came forward to bow over her hand and offer their most humble addresses. By the time the line had finished, her head was spinning from all the compliments and lewd stares that promised an evening filled with debauchery.

  As usual, her mother was eager to extol her daughter’s outstanding qualities, flitting about the room, her laugh carrying over the expanse. Finally, she nodded toward one of the men from a fellow Molly house who h
ad offered their services as the eunuch of ceremonies.

  In grand flourish, the dark-skinned man stood in the middle of the room in his silver brocade attire and clapped his hands together to gain everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming this evening as we celebrate our own Queen of the Underworld and her journey to Paradise with one lucky gentleman. But who will be crowned her Hades?”

  As laughter swept about the room, Sephy put a hand to her stomach where the butterflies were starting to flutter their wings once more.

  “There isn’t nufin’ t’ losin’ yer maidenhead.” One of the girls bent down from behind Sephy and whispered in her ear. “There’s just a pinch an’ then it’s over. After tha’, it’s nufin’ but good times.”

  “Thank you, Jade.”

  Sephy had always liked the dark-haired girl. She was one of her mother’s best doxies, even though she was the only one who spoke with a cockney accent. Her mother might be a bawd, but she had saved the girl from a worse fate than she might have experienced living down by the docks. At least in her mother’s house she was fed and clothed and surrounded by opulence with the chance to earn extra coin. There was no threat of harm in this house for her mother’s lackey, Abraham, dealt with anyone that got out of place.

  “Shall we start the bidding at fifty pounds for this goddess of delight?”

  Sephy snapped back to attention when she saw the hands begin to lift in offering. Her mother continued her observation, whispering a few words in one gentleman’s ear or another, causing the price to continually rise.

  It wasn’t until she saw one particular man distance himself from the rest that she felt a fission of fear crawl up her spine. He held himself as regally as the king, his powdered wig firmly in place, and yet, there was a cruel set to his lips that was unmistakable. But then, most of the ladies’ knew of Lord Alabaster Gregory’s perversions. He might have been a gentleman as the younger son of a marquess, but the deviant acts that he requested behind closed doors were legendary among all the bawdy houses.

  “Two hundred pounds.” His firm, commanding voice rippled through the crowd.

  “Bloody ‘ell.” Jade muttered from behind her.

  Sephy glanced to her mother for assistance. Surely she wouldn’t have to face Lord Gregory on her first night as a woman? The horrors she could only imagine he might request caused the bile to rise in her throat. She knew she would likely have to service him at some point, but she just didn’t think it would be so soon.

  She watched as her mother approached him and murmured something in his ear, but he brushed her off like an annoying insect, his lewd gaze wholly focused on Sephy.

  Sephy glanced around for assistance, praying that someone else would outbid the lord, but too many men shook their head, leaving her to her fate.

  “Going once, going twice…”

  Sephy held her breath.

  “Five hundred pounds.”

  Everyone turned to look at the tall man who had recently entered the fray. Sephy didn’t recall meeting him before, for she would have remembered such a handsome visage. He was quite remarkable with his dark hair, free of a wig or a single bit of powder, and his fathomless piercing eyes. He wore brown breeches and a gold jacket and waistcoat and was currently staring down Lord Gregory as if this had nothing at all to do with Sephy, but was a personal vendetta against the man himself.

  With a hate filled glare toward the newcomer, Lord Gregory said nothing, but turned on his heel and departed.

  Instantly, Sephy’s mother strode forward and greeted the bidder. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” she purred.

  The man’s focus reluctantly shifted to her. “Hunter Bennett, the Duke of Falcourt.”

  Phryne put a hand to her neck, his title obviously exciting her. While Sephy’s mother entertained many members of the aristocracy, it wasn’t often that someone as exalted as a duke walked through her door, nor one that was a known Royal bastard who had been recognized by the king. “You honor us with your presence, Your Grace.” She waved a hand toward Sephy. “Your prize awaits.”

  As his gaze met hers, a shiver coursed through her, but it was vastly different than what she’d felt toward Lord Gregory.

  She rose to her feet and approached him. He followed her movements, but said nothing as she paused before him with a curtsy. “Your Grace. I am yours.”

  ***

  Hunter had no need of a doxie, even one so lovely as this one. His sole mission was to ensure that he dogged Lord Gregory’s every step. Considering what the animal had done to his sister, he vowed he would find the proof that would send him to the gallows if it was the last thing he accomplished on this earth. He’d even gone to the monarch following the incident, but his father had refused to hear him impugn another member of the peerage for Lord Gregory’s father, the Marquess of Highgrove, had always been a particular favorite of King George, more than his own son.

  Thus, he found it was up to him to take matters into his own hands. When he’d received word from the men he had following Lord Gregory and found out what was transpiring this night, Hunter knew he couldn’t see another young woman get debauched, even if she was the daughter of one of the most celebrated courtesans of all time.

  Looking into the girl’s innocent blue eyes and realizing just how young she was nearly made him cast up his accounts, although he knew he’d done the right thing. He bowed slightly.

  “Your servant, Miss…?” He paused, for he realized he didn’t even know the name of his prize.

  “Miss Persephone Welton, Your Grace.” She gestured toward the stairs that led to the upper level. “Shall we retire to my rooms so that I may properly show my gratitude for your donation to this house?”

  The very idea caused Hunter to shudder, although he withheld his revulsion. He wasn’t about to take a child’s virginity. In truth, he had never cared for bawdy houses, preferring to lay with widows who paraded about society looking for a good time. But after what had happened to his sister, Louisa, he found his desire for bed sport had diminished greatly.

  “Actually, I would prefer the comfort of my own townhouse,” he murmured to the madam. “If that is agreeable to you?”

  Phryne glanced at her daughter, as if considering the danger she might be in, but she gave a tight smile. “Of course. As you wish. My darling girl is yours for the night.”

  Hunter nodded and then held his arm out to Persephone. “Shall, we Miss Welton?”

  She accepted his arm without reservation, completely giving herself over to his care. She was as trusting as a lamb led by wolves. He should hate to see her devoured by them, as she soon would be, embarking on such a life.

  He handed her into his coach and instructed his driver to return home. He sat in silence and watched the lady sit as primly as any debutante currently in London society. She had every bit as much polish in her manner of speech and decorum, although it was no secret that her upbringing would have been decidedly different. Instead of comportment lessons on how to run a household, or learning embroidery or the waltz, she’d been schooled in the darker side of London.

  Hunter detested how the fairer sex was treated in society and fought in Parliament every chance he got for more rights for women, but thus far his pleas had gone virtually unheeded. Prostitution was rampant among the lower classes, and while he couldn’t save everyone, he had managed to rescue his sister from falling deeper into the mire.

  And he could do the same for this girl; give her a better life that she would have otherwise been denied.

  He said nothing until they arrived at his residence in Soho Square. As Persephone alighted, she glanced up at his white washed brick residence with something akin to awe. She turned to him with a smile. “It’s lovely.”

  Hunter inclined his head and led her inside where the opulence of his status allowed him the best that life could offer. He’d never felt like such an ass as he led her to his study.

  He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. He glanced
over his shoulder at the girl. He imagined warm milk would be more appropriate for her, but forced himself to ask, “Would you care for something?”

  “Sherry, please, if you have it.”

  He had to smirk. It was his favorite as well.

  Hunter crossed the room and handed the drink to her.

  “Thank you.” She took a sip and watched him seductively over the rim. He cleared his throat, for he had to admit that for her age and inexperience, she certainly knew what to do to try a man’s resolve.

  He walked over to his desk to put some distance between them, leaning against the edge as he asked, “How old are you?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Do you think I won’t be able to please you because I’m young?”

  He pursed his lips together. “Just answer the question.”

  “Seventeen.”

  His brow furrowed. Just as he’d thought. “You may not believe this, Miss Welton, but I don’t dally with harlots.”

  She hesitated, apparently confused. “Then why did you come to the auction tonight?”

  “I had my reasons.” He took another sip of his sherry. “However, I fear it had nothing to do with you.”

  She looked even more at sea. “Then why am I here?”

  “Because I’m willing to offer you a bargain, if you are amenable.”

  She downed her drink in one swallow and set the glass aside. Then she crossed her arms and regarded him steadily, eyebrows raised with interest. “I’m listening.”

  “I’d like to offer my services as your protector.”

  She blinked, her stance suddenly a bit less sure. “My mother would be pleased.”