The Casanova Code Read Free

giving it voice. “You don’t know that.”
    “Think of it,” Sarah insisted. “Gentle women, quiet women, respond to his ad in pursuit of love and affection. He lures them to his lecherous lair and seduces them into trading their innocence for a life of scandal and degradation.” Sarah rummaged through her reticule for a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “That’s how it happened with my sister.”
    “Ashton Carswell Trewelyn the Third?” Faith’s jaw dropped.
    “No, not him,” Sarah said with a shake of her head. “But someone like him. He got her in the family way and then abandoned her. My dear sister didn’t live long enough to hold little Nan in her arms.”
    They all knew the sad story. Sarah was raising her niece as her own child and had sought her current position at the
Messenger
as a means for her support. As much as they derided Morrison for failing to publish Sarah’s serious articles, they were grateful he’d offered her employment in her time of need. The friends sat in silence to allow Sarah time to gather her composure.
    Ashton Carswell Trewelyn the Third. Edwina remembered him from her own two failed seasons years ago, before she gave up the illusion of a man falling at her feet and pleading his undying devotion. Trewelyn had been dashing back then, debonair in his evening tails, and desired by all the young women. He had smiled at her once, but she hadn’t the coquettish looks, or the charm, or the connections to draw men like honey to her side. She certainly hadn’t the allure to attract Casanova. After that brief moment, he returned to his wealthy friends . . . and one beautiful woman in particular . . . what was her name? She remembered watching them on the dance floor; they had moved so eloquently, so full of grace as if they were one person. Edwina recalled the woman had the smallest waistline she’d ever seen, and a strange sort of laugh. Trewelyn hadn’t glanced Edwina’s way again. He’d ignored her, just like so many others.
    “I wrote a poem about him once,” Faith admitted. “I fancied him an angel cast to earth.”
    “From hell, more likely,” Sarah grumbled.
    “We can’t let this occur,” Claire insisted. “We can’t let him take advantage of innocent women.” Ever since Claire had become involved with Women for a Sober Society, Edwina had noticed her passion for platforms. Sometimes the cause didn’t matter, just the related call to action.
    “How can we stop him?” Sarah asked. “I had to run the ad even though I suspected it was a deception. I have Nan to consider.”
    Faith patted her hand in sympathy. “Casanova’s lecherous actions are not your fault.”
    “Surely we can use your connections to the
Messenger
to thwart his scheme of seduction,” Claire said, gathering a head of steam. “Think, ladies.”
    “Will you see the responses to his ad?” Edwina asked.
    “Only the envelopes,” Sarah replied. “I’m not allowed to open them. I could lose my position.”
    “Some of those envelopes will have the return address on the back,” Faith said. “We could at least warn those women.”
    “He may not have set his sights on all the replies,” Edwina said thoughtfully. “It would be better if we knew which responses interested him the most, then concentrated our efforts there.”
    “And how are we to do that?” Faith asked. “It’s not as if we can sneak into his residence and see which responses he favors. We might as well follow him about London to see whom he meets.” Faith laughed at the absurdity of her suggestion.
    Follow Casanova about London? Edwina brightened at the thought. While she wasn’t as convinced as Sarah that the ad was for evil intent, the diversion of following a rake about London had an appeal. Surely this would pose an adventure more stimulating than simply transcribing her brothers’ exploits. “I’ll do it,” Edwina stated. “I’ll follow him.”
    “You can’t follow Trewelyn around London!”