A Courtesan’s Guide to Getting Your Man

Cover A Courtesan’s Guide to Getting Your Man
My every movement echoed in the small chamber. I felt cut off from the entire world, walled in by what seemed like miles of stone. With something nearing nostalgia, I wondered what Hettie and Bertha were up to.
I washed gratefully. The little solicitor had made sure that I was kept stocked with soap and water and relatively clean toweling. I dressed in the same horrid gown I had worn the day before, although my belief in its power had much diminished. It had not protected me. Instead, I had fel
...t more naked and vulnerable than ever. A courtesan without her bosom on display is a sad creature, indeed!
It seemed I had risen much too early from my lumpy pallet. I sat for hours, simply panting for some distraction from my thoughts. Then I heard footsteps outside my cell and the jingling of the jailer’s keys. I stood, feeling ice at the pit of my stomach.
Would I emerge from this day with my feet on the ground or dangling in the air?
The door opened and a man ducked through the low lintel, but it was not one of the turnkeys.
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