The River of No Return

is what you need to set you up again.” She turned to Bella. “Now, Lady Falcott. I am going to feed you tea and cake and then I am going to send you and your friend home. And you must never visit me again. Whatever were you doing, the sister of a marquess, alone in Soho Square? Exchanging tittle-tattle with strange women and not telling them your title? I never would have encouraged your conversation had I known your identity. Do you not realize that to be seen with me would destroy your reputation? Do you not realize that I am a courtesan?”
    “You are?” Bella looked at her heroine with alarm, but the expression quickly transformed into glee. “But that is marvelous!” She whirled to face Julia. “I told you she was marvelous.” She looked more closely at Julia. “Whatever is the matter with you? You look like a goose walked over your grave. Are you upset because Miss Blomgren is a courtesan?” She turned to Miss Blomgren. “I apologize for my friend. She was raised in the country and now she is in love. She cannot be held responsible for her reactions. But I assure you that neither of us sits in judgment upon you—”
    Miss Blomgren interrupted Bella. “Are you in love, Julia? It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? But also terrible.”
    “Apparently she is in love with my brother, Nick,” Bella said. “And she’s just learned that he has a mistress. Some beautiful creature he’s squiring around town and showering with jewels.”
    Julia closed her eyes. This was clearly the worst day of her entire life. Perhaps if she just kept her eyes closed, the day would end, and she could begin again.
    Cool fingertips touched the back of her hand, and she opened her eyes again. Something like hysteria welled up inside her, and she looked up to meet Miss Blomgren’s eyes.
    They were sparkling with sympathy. “Yes,” she said. “I see.” She raised Julia’s hands in her own, smearing them with beet juice, and she kissed Julia soundly on both cheeks. “How delightful. You are perfect for one another.”
    “Do you know Nick?” Bella turned to Miss Blomgren. “Why didn’t you say? Oh! You gave him the dog. That’s why Solvig knows you. Of course.”
    “My dear, stupid girl.” Miss Blomgren shook her head at Bella, keeping a tight hold on Julia’s hands. “Don’t you realize why your friend is so unhappy? She knew it from the first. I am Nick’s mistress.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
    B ella looked like a rabbit held up by its ears. For her part, Julia was ready to either throw herself into Miss Blomgren’s arms and weep, or plunge out of the house and into the squalid streets of Soho in a righteous fury. But then everything changed.
    There was another person in the very midst of them. A thin black man . . . no, a youth, still really a boy . . . with hair that was short and black on the sides but that stood up in a green ridge down the center of his skull. A bright green feather dangled from a hoop that pierced his left ear. He was dressed all in black, like Julia, but there any resemblance between them came to a crashing halt. He wore what looked like tight leggings and a short doublet, except that the leggings clung perfectly to his thin calves and thighs and sparkled with thousands of tiny gold flashes, and the doublet was not a doublet at all, but a thick leather belt wrapped around his hips; it extended neither above his waist nor beyond his upper thigh. His tall boots were laced all the way up with thick golden cords that were then tied in two flourishing bows just under his sparkling knees. He wore a short black leather jacket that seemed to fasten by means of a metal ribbon with serrated edges that ran down the front opening. It was open most of the way down, revealing a leather waistcoat, and beneath that, a shirt of black lace that was somehow wrapped so tightly around that it clung. Julia could see his skin showing through it. Around his neck was a golden chain with what looked like five flat pieces of broken pottery attached. By the time Julia’s eyes found their way back to his face, he was smiling, and one hand was thrust forward. “Sorry to butt in—hello,” he said in friendly tones, but with a very strange accent; it sounded like a Spanish guitar, played flat. He shook Julia’s hand, then Bella’s. “Are you guys new Ofan, or what?”
    “For God’s sake!” Miss Blomgren grabbed his arm and dragged him a few steps away, into the brighter light.
    Then she froze