Page 56

“If it’s unwelcome—” Olivia began, while Amanda blurted, “How would you know?”

Amelia waved away their words, and frowned at them both. “I am basing my hypothesis on the data I have, to wit, A Harlot’s Guide. The women in that book look as if they are enjoying themselves!”

“Yes, well, none of them are being forcibly—” Olivia tried again, while Amanda shook her head and insisted, “They are supposed to be enjoying themselves! That is the point of the book!”

“I have always assumed page fifteen’s point was the man’s enjoyment?”

Olivia gave up, and supposed she should be glad she wouldn’t be required to explain sexual violence and survivorhood and lifelong trauma to a pair of ninnies currently arguing over which page The Milkmaid’s Shuffle occupied.

Her sisters-in-law were younger than her, and considerably more sheltered. Olivia wasn’t a lady—or at least, hadn’t been raised to be one—and had worked to survive. Granted, her work was rather more genteel than Maisy and many of the women in the East End…but she’d seen enough of the world to know how it worked.

To some women, their body was who they were, and the idea of violating it was a fate worse than death. To others, their body was merely a commodity, and they were used to trading it.

Like you.

Her eyes widened at the realization. She’d gone into the East End to speak to a whore, but when that mission had been thwarted, she’d confronted the man who controlled the fate of her newspaper. And when he’d shown interest in her body, she’d been willing to sell her innocence for his cooperation.

Instead he’d suggested marriage.

You were willing to whore for him, if that’s what was required to save the paper.

So perhaps she was no different than Maisy.

Olivia shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, uncertain how she felt about that thought.

This marriage—his idea—was little more than her spreading her legs for a man in exchange for his offer of a future, was it not? In exchange for money, stability, safety?

But…why didn’t she feel ashamed? Humiliated?

Because you liked it.

She bit her lip, even as the memory of her husband’s touch made warmth flood her core.

He’d kissed her there.

He’d kissed her there, and there, and she’d liked it. She had thought he had.

So why hadn’t he returned to her bed?

“Olivia is blushing,” Amelia suddenly blurted. “Should we ask?”

Her sister nudged Olivia’s shoulder. “You are thinking about sex, are you not?”

Olivia blinked, and realized both of them were staring at her with bright eyes and excited smiles. “I…ah. I was thinking about…”

“What is it like?”

Amelia nodded in support of her sister’s outrageous question. “Is it nice? It must be nice, right? Please note we are not asking for any information about our brother’s participation, because eeew. But it must be nice, otherwise women would not continue to agree to it.”

“Unless they wanted babies,” Amanda pointed out. “Although I cannot imagine why someone would want them.”

“To take care of! To cuddle with! To love!” Amelia clearly had been considering this for a while.

Her sister sniffed. “They sound…messy. Growing up with Hamish was bad enough.”

Gratefully, Olivia latched onto the change in subject. “And where is Hamish this afternoon? Not with you, clearly?” she added desperately.

Amelia just sniffed. “The dear is quite elderly. He naps in the afternoons, when Mother naps.”