It was Sangita didi, my sister. I recognised her with that mole just above her upper lips. "How weird," I thought, my sister comes to this place as a ...LUB DANCER. Being belongs to rich family why my sister doing this cheap club-dancing job? What on earth make her to do that? Whether she's doing this by own will or by force? Thousands questions came in mind within a second.I was bit embarrassed seeing my sister like that. But my embarrassment disappeared as I watched her slowly dance seductively. And she couldn’t help but think of it often. Part of it, of course, was having people refer to her as ‘Lady Stanhope.’ Apparently, the Regent’s advisers had been at something of an impasse about how to reward a woman who had proved her valor in battle. There were no precedents for a direct honor, and the Regent was uncomfortable enough with his relatively new authority to consider creating the first. It was James’s friend, Philip Whitson, in fact, the secretary to the Prime Minister, who had. “You should come back to my studio. I want to paint you. We can talk as you pose for me.”With that he turned and walked off, expecting her to follow him.They climbed the staircase to the third floor. He flung open the door and the smell of oil paint and turpentine hit her nostrils. The room was covered in canvases and sheets of paper. Pastel sketches, charcoal drawings and half-finished oil paintings cluttered the walls and surfaces. Caroline moved around, entranced as Degas lit several oil. He looked offended that Sam had yelled at him. He sat down and stared out a window. It had started to snow earlier and it was coming down pretty hard now. I shivered involuntarily. ‘How long has it been?’ Shane asked. ‘About an hour since she called so she’s got another hour..’ Sam said consulting his watch. He looked at us huddled on the floor. He sneered and then rose to his feet. He took his brothers place and began pacing the floor. ‘Are we gonna kill her?’ Shane asked. Sam glanced.
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