Memphis, Tennessee August 1892 Birthing a bastard wasn't in the plans. When she'd learned she was carrying her lover's child, the shock and panic turned quickly to anger. There were ways of dealing with it, of course. A woman in her position had contacts, had avenues. But she was afraid of them, nearly as afraid of the abortionists as she was of what was growing, unwanted, inside her. The mistress of a man like Reginald Harper couldn't afford pregnancy. He'd kept her for nearly two years now, and kept her well. Oh, she knew he kept others - including his wife -  but they didn't concern her. She was still young, and she was beautiful. Youth and beauty were products that could be marketed. She'd done so, for nearly a decade, with steely mind and heart. And she'd profited by them, polished them with the grace and charm she'd learned by watching and emulating the fine ladies who'd visited the grand house on the river where her mother had worked. She'd been educated - a bit. But more than books and music, she'd learned the arts of flirtation. She'd sold herself for the first time at fifteen and had pocketed knowledge along with the coin. But prostitution wasn't her goal, any more than domestic work or trudging off to the factory day after day. She