Sinful in Satin by Madeline Hunter

decided what to do with this property. However, now it sounds as if you intend to take permanent residence.”
    They stood in a back chamber of Alessandra’s house on Wells Street. Sunlight poured in its southern exposure, emphasizing the translucence of Daphne’s pale skin. Even on overcast days, this sitting room would be bright. And, as Daphne had noted that first day and Celia had clearly seen for herself, the windows and exposure made this chamber perfect for plants.
    In the last year Daphne’s trade, The Rarest Blooms, had prospered. Now some of the best houses in Mayfair contracted with Daphne to provide plants and flowers from her gardens and greenhouses near Cumberworth on a regular basis.
    Transporting all that vegetation had become a hard chore, however. If there were an outpost of the business here in London, where the wagons could deposit blooms and greenery, the orders could be dispersed with less trouble.
    “This chamber would be warm enough to hold plants for a few days, even in winter. Cut flowers could reside in the cool larder and basement in summer,” Celia said.
    “I agree that this property will meet our needs. If I hesitate, it is because I do not want you to assume the risk of a partnership,” Daphne said. “We could do the same thing without that.”
    “I would prefer if you accepted the money I saved from my allowance while my mother was alive, and made me a partner. Even if I only have a small percentage, it will give me an income, which is what I need if I am going to live here. You will have the use of this house and I will see to the actual delivery of the plants.”
    Daphne lowered herself into one of the cane chairs. Normally she remained a carefully composed and beautiful portrait, but now her brow puckered and her eyes clouded.
    “It is not your proposal that I resist, Celia. My mind knows it is a good one. My heart, however—” She gazed up sadly. “You are determined to leave us for good, then?”
    Celia stepped around the chair, bent, and embraced Daphne’s shoulders from behind. She laid her cheek against her dear friend’s cool face. “I have been dependent on you too long. One year turned to three, and three to five. I will forever be grateful for the home that you provided, but it is time for me to make my own way.”
    “You are really doing this because of the gossip. I do not care what anyone says and I will not allow you to—”
    “You cannot change the world, Daphne. Your business will continue being harmed as long as I am known to live and work with you. Our partnership will be a quiet one, and preserve both your trade and the reputation of your household, while it provides me with a living.”
    Daphne did not answer, and Celia knew her friend still fretted. Daphne did not like accommodating injustice.
    “I am three and twenty, Daphne. I have this house now, and should return to the world anyway. I would have done this even if my name had never been linked to Alessandra’s in the death notices. We will remain close in every other way, however.”
    “If The Rarest Blooms should fail, you might lose this house.”
    “We will not fail. We will flourish.”
    Daphne rested her hand upon Celia’s embracing arm. Celia could not see her friend’s face regain its composure, but she felt it within her embrace.
    “It would be much easier to have one place to bring all the plants for dispersal,” Daphne said.
    Celia skipped around the chair, took Daphne’s hands, and pulled her up. “You will not regret this. Neither of us will. You can take my investment and build another hot-house and we can sell fruit we grow in it out of season for ridiculous prices. We can bring in the wagon when there are extra blooms and sell to the girls at Covent Garden. We can—”
    Daphne patted Celia’s cheek. “First Audrianna left, then Verity, now you. I fear being all alone, Celia, and it was that which argued against your fine plan.”
    “We will see each other so often it will