Shrouded Passions

by Faye Hall

  “Lotte, ” he begged again.

  She stood before him, unmoving, her gaze holding his. Hesitantly, she leaned into him, her lips lightly kissing his.

  “I’m sorry, Devon,” she whispered before quickly turning around and running into the alley beside the Pioneer Hotel.

  “Wait!” he called as he ran after her. “Come back!”

  Devon got to the end of the alley, praying this woman would not escape him. Running as fast as he could, Devon turned the corner to find no one. Desperation setting in, he barged into the hotel.

  “Has anyone seen a girl come running in here? She’s got light, reddish-blonde hair, eyes crystal blue.”

  The madam came running to greet him. “I got no girl like that working for me, Mr. Munroy. It be your grief playing with your mind, making you see this woman.”

  He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “No, I saw her. She was here. Her name is Lotte, Lotte Higgins. She was…”

  “Lotte Higgins is dead, sir,” Abby said softly, walking him to the bar. “I’m sorry, sir, but she ain’t coming back.”

  Devon took a seat at the bar, his head buried in his hands. “But I saw her. She was alive,” he kept muttering.

  “Pour the poor bastard a drink, Patrick,” Abby ordered the bartender.

  “What do you want?” Patrick asked, his tone cold.

  Devon looked up at the bartender. “Don’t I know you?” he asked. “Your name sounds familiar.”

  Patrick shook his head. “No, sir, you don’t know me. I’m new here.”

  Devon continued to study him. “She had a brother named Patrick. Are you—”

  “There are many men in this town that share my name, sir. Most unfortunate, I found when I first moved here from England a month ago.”

  “Are you sure?” Devon asked. “You could almost look like him without that scar and if your hair was longer.”

  “I’m not this man you think I am, sir. Nor do I know this woman you came in here looking for. I only know how to serve drinks, now what do you want?”

  Tears spilled over and down Devon’s cheeks. “I want her back. Please bring her back to me.”

  Chapter 12

  3 years later

  Brandon, Queensland, Australia, 1888

  Devon Munroy sat at his desk in his study, his eyes drifting shut as he leaned back in his chair, the alcohol he’d been consuming all day beginning to force sleep upon him. He had seen her again today while he was in town, or so he thought. He tried to follow her like he had so many times before, but Devon found nothing and no one who could explain what he saw.

  Nearly four years had passed since the shooting in the old cottage on the Higgins estate, and still the image of Lotte haunted Devon with every step he made. Was it his grief causing him to keep seeing images of the woman he had once loved so much? The same woman he had shot in cold blood? Was he losing his mind, and this was what he should expect in the years ahead? Devon didn’t know. At first, he thought to drown these haunting images out with copious amounts of alcohol. Now…

  Feeling soft, feminine fingers tracing a pattern across his chest, Devon’s eyes immediately shot opened, his fingers quickly and firmly grasping the hand before him. Looking up, he expected to warn Elizabeth off again from making such unwanted advances as he had many a time over the years of their marriage. Focusing on the woman before him though, he quickly realized this woman wasn’t his wife.

  “L-Lotte?” he asked, his words barely more than a whisper. “M-my love, you’ve come back to me.”

  Feeling her lips join to his, Devon couldn’t stop himself from returning her kiss passionately, hungrily.

  Reluctantly, he pushed her away, forcing some sense to return to him. “You can’t be Lotte. She’s dead. You’re dead. You died in my arms.”

  The woman stood there, her gaze never leaving his. “How can you be so sure, Devon?”

  He tried to reach for her, needing to keep this woman there long enough to get some much needed answers, but she evaded his reach and ran quickly from the study. He tried to follow her, but in his drunken state he tripped and fell to the floor, which was where he stayed.

  Waking the next morning, still on the floor of his study, Devon scrambled to his feet, trying in vain to make some sense of the events of the previous night. Events such as these were no stranger to Devon. In fact, they had become the norm over the last few years. But were these things he saw real? Was the woman he saw real? He no longer knew.

  Reaching for the bottle of brandy on the desk, Devon went to drink before realizing it was an empty bottle. Looking around him, all he saw were empty bottles.

  “Bring my carriage!” Devon yelled as he opened the door. Devon’s steps were measured as he slowly made his way from his study out to the waiting carriage. He didn’t know how much more he could take of this, seeing Lotte at every turn; it was torture seeing her everywhere, but also knowing deep in his heart that he would never be able to hold her to him again.

  He had always wanted more than the cold life he now had for himself. Once, he had dreamed of love and a family of his own. Once, he had dreamed that Lotte would share all these things with him, her soft curves molded against him, his fingers running through her soft, reddish hair. He had wanted Lotte Higgins to be his future. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Devon knew he would one day have to accept that this dream would never be a reality. Lotte was dead, and she was never coming back to him.

  The harsh reality of this thought left an ill feeling in his gut. Devon wondered if finally it was time he laid with another woman, any woman who might be able to take his mind away from the constant grief that seemed to plague him.­

  * * * *

  Andrew Hult watched as Devon walked in his direction, Devon’s aim the carriage that had just pulled up. Andrew had watched this man grow from a small child. Andrew took certain blame for the man Devon now was, having kept the secret of what really happened to Lotte Higgins from him these past few years. Still, he knew he had to, for everyone’s safety.

  “You heading out, sir?” Andrew asked Devon as he drew closer to where he was trimming the hedges.

  Devon didn’t look up. “I seem to have run out of liquor, Andrew. Thought I asked you to bring more home yesterday?”

  “Old age, sir,” Andrew pleaded. “It plays with your mind.”

  Devon was about to walk past him when Andrew stopped what he was doing.

  “I hear they have a new woman at the Pioneer Hotel. Purest beauty with long, reddish hair and crystal blue eyes.” Knowing such a description would draw his master’s attention, Andrew returned to trimming his hedges. “Just thought since you’ll be at the hotel getting liquor, you may want to check this woman out.”

  “I don’t go there for the women.”

  Andrew nodded. “I know, but things change.”

  Devon continued to stall. “Long, reddish hair and crystal blue eyes, ” he repeated, shaking his head. “I can never escape her, can I? Everywhere I go, I’m going to be haunted with the memory of what I did to her.”

  Again, Andrew stopped trimming. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “Lotte Higgins!” Devon roared. “Everywhere I turn I see her. I can’t sleep for memories of her. Now you tell me there’s a woman working at the hotel who has her very same features. Haven’t I been punished enough?”

  Going to him, Andrew placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We all lose ones we love, sir. There is no shame in missing them.”

  Devon let out a heavy sigh. “But there is if you’re the reason they’re no longer alive.”

  Watching as all the strength appeared to leave Devon, Andrew tried to stop him as he collapsed to the ground.

  “Devon, Lotte’s death wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was!” Devon yelled at him. “I shot her! I’m the reason she’s dead!”

  Andrew thought on his words for a long time, having seen the pain consuming Devon constantly for years now. He may have agre
ed to keep a secret, but he never agreed to this.

  Kneeling down to the crumpled mass of his master, Andrew squeezed Devon’s shoulder supportively.

  “What if she didn’t die that night, Devon?” Andrew asked softly. “What if Lotte somehow managed to survive?”

  Devon looked at him, desperation in his eyes. “She was shot in the chest. Even the strongest man couldn’t have survived that.”

  Andrew nodded. “I know, sir, but what if?”

  Devon shook his head. “I held her. I was covered in her blood. You saw me before you took her body away. Lotte’s dead, and she’s never coming back to me.”

  Andrew helped him to his feet. “You say this new woman at the hotel sounds like Lotte. What if she’s your second chance?”

  “She’s not Lotte,” Devon reminded him.

  Andrew turned him to look at him. “Nor are you the man you used to be, Devon.”

  “Have you changed your mind, sir?” the driver asked, hopping down from his driver’s seat. “Would you like me to take the carriage back?”

  There was silence.

  “What could it hurt?” Andrew prompted him. “If you don’t like the woman, just purchase your liquor and return home.”

  When the silence continued, Andrew feared maybe he had pushed too far.

  “Take me to the Pioneer Hotel,” Devon said to the driver.

  Watching the younger man walk away from him, Andrew knew this night would hold more for Devon than he yet realized.

  Waiting until the carriage was a safe distance away, Andrew called to the young man who’d just started working at the estate.

  “Stephen, you need to run as fast as you can into town to the Pioneer Hotel. Tell Abby that Devon Munroy is on his way.”­

  * * * *

  “Abby! Abby!” Stephen, the young servant from the Munroy estate, yelled as he came running into the back of the tavern. “He’s on his way, Abby,” he panted, out of breath. “Devon Munroy’s on his way.”

  The madam came rushing up to him. “Are you sure? When did he leave?”

  The young man gasped, desperately trying to get his breath back. “H-he was leaving just as I did.”

  Abby handed the young boy a glass of water. “You did well, honey,” she said, turning him in the direction of some of her girls. “Girls, take Stephen into one of the rooms upstairs. He’s had a long journey and needs some rest.” Throwing a small pouch of money at the young man, she winked at the girls behind him. “And girls, make sure he’s well looked after.”

  The sultry giggles of the women echoed in the building as they escorted the young man into one of the upstairs rooms for a night of pleasure. Abby turned to get ready for the arrival of Devon Munroy. She’d barely taken a step before she almost ran into the solid form of her bartender, Patrick Higgins.

  “Forgive me, Patrick. I didn’t see you.”

  * * * *­

  Patrick Higgins stood behind the hotel’s madam, watching the young man leave her with several of the hotel’s best working girls. He’d heard what the young man told Abby, what he couldn’t understand was why.

  When Abby went to quickly turn away from the young man, Patrick didn’t try to get out of her way.

  “Why was Stephen here?” he asked, his tone steady.

  Abby tried to step around him. “He just ran an errand for me, Patrick, nothing more.”

  He reached for the madam’s arm, grabbing it and stopping any retreat she may have made. “Don’t lie to me, Abby. Why the hell would you need a servant from the Munroy estate to run an errand for you?”

  Abby smiled coyly, her hand going familiarly to rest on his chest. “It’s nothing you need worry about, my dear.”

  “Don’t ‘my dear’ me. I spent most of the money I saved before my disappearance to become your business partner, remember? I am not some lackey who just works for you,” Patrick said, pushing her hand away from him. “You just gave that boy three of our best girls free of charge, Abby, so I’d say whatever he did for you is of great importance to me.”

  Abby stalled in her reply, trying to walk away from him. Patrick wouldn’t let her though.

  “Devon Munroy has been coming here for years, so why now do you need to be told when he’s coming?” Patrick asked. “We both know he doesn’t come here for the women.”

  “He is tonight.”

  Abby’s words were short, but Patrick still felt a pang of concern.

  “What?” he asked, hoping he’d misheard the madam.

  “Devon Munroy will be here within the hour, and though he may not know it, he will be coming for one of our girls.”

  Patrick’s stare narrowed on her, her words running over on his mind. “One of our girls? I don’t understand. Did one of them request a night with Devon?” he asked, suddenly realizing what the madam was meaning. “You mean Lotte, don’t you?”

  “Patrick, you couldn’t keep hiding the fact that he came to this hotel near weekly. Your sister was going to learn the truth sooner or later,” Abby said.

  “You should never have told her about Devon!” Patrick didn’t try to hide his annoyance. “She nearly lost her life because of him once. I won’t let that happen again.”

  “She will do this with or without your permission, Patrick,” Abby said, walking away from him then and up to the working rooms of the hotel.

  Chapter 13

  “Come in,” Lotte called, hearing a knock on her door. Turning, she watched as Abby walked in and shut the door behind her.

  “Devon Munroy is on his way to the hotel.”

  Lotte stopped her stitching, her gaze shooting up to meet the madam’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

  Abby nodded. “One of the boys from his estate just came and said he’ll be here within the hour.”

  Lotte could barely breathe as she absorbed what she was hearing. She knew this day would come and soon, she just didn’t think it would be today.

  “You don’t have to do this tonight, Lotte,” Abby said, going to her, resting her hand supportively on Lotte’s forearm. “You don’t have to do this at all if you’ve changed your mind.”

  Lotte’s hand rested on the madam’s. “I have to do this, Abby. Surely you must understand that.”

  Abby smiled. “I understand, honey.”

  Standing, Lotte walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at her reflection. She had changed so much over the last few years. The women at the hotel had taught her much, from how to change the color of her hair to trying to cover up the scar that still remained on her chest. She was no longer as slim as she once was either, nor as pale.

  “Abby, it has been so long since I’ve been with Devon.” Lifting her fingers to her hair, she stroked a few loose tendrils. “The woman Devon claimed to love years back no longer exists. She died that night in the cottage.”

  Abby stopped behind Lotte, her fingers running through the younger woman’s hair. “She never died, Lotte. You’re just too scared to allow her to live again.”

  Lotte’s gaze was sad when she joined it to the madam’s. “Devon is a married man now. How can you be so sure he will want to share a bed with me?”

  “You are a beautiful young woman, Lotte. Any man would be happy to lay with you.”

  Lotte lowered her gaze. “Devon isn’t just any man though.”

  “What have you been told about Devon these last few years, honey?” Abby asked, reaching for a brush and starting to brush the younger woman’s hair.

  Lotte turned away from her own reflection and toward the madam. Taking the brush, Lotte replaced it back on her dressing table.

  “I know he’s come here near every week since I was shot. How do I compare to that?” Lotte asked. “I’m not one of your girls, Abby, nor am I some trained whore knowing how to pleasure a man. How am I supposed to make him remember me when he’s laid with so many talented women over the years?”

  Abby reached for her hand, squeezing it. “Honey, it’s not what you think.”

&nbs
p; Lotte tried to smile, trying to shrug off the reality of the situation. “He thinks I’m dead, Abby. Even the best man couldn’t love just one woman for the rest of his life.”

  “Lotte,” Abby tried again. “Honey, Devon comes here to drink. Only to drink.”

  “W-what?”

  “Devon never comes here for the women, Lotte, he never has,” Abby explained. “He drinks. Nothing more.”

  Just then, the door behind the two women opened.

  “Lotte, you aren’t going out there to play this man’s whore!” Patrick roared.

  Lotte turned to look at her brother, hurt by all he had allowed her to think about Devon and how he had spent the years since her shooting. “Why didn’t you tell me, Patrick? Why did you make me believe all these years that Devon had forgotten me?”

  Patrick turned to look at the madam. “Abby, what did you tell her?”

  “The truth,” Abby answered. “Damn it, she has a right to know.”

  “She has the right to live. Something she won’t do if she becomes involved with Devon Munroy again.”

  “Where did Devon spend his wedding night, Patrick?” Lotte asked, trying to stay calm, knowing she needed to know the truth. Lotte could see the pleading in her brother’s eyes, still she wouldn’t let that deter her. She had to know. “Patrick…”

  “He was here, Lotte. Drinking at my bar.” The words were being dragged from Patrick. “Just like every other night Devon’s been in here.”

  Lotte stood there staring at her brother, not daring to believe what he was admitting to.

  “For Christ’s sake, you nearly died, Lotte,” Patrick tried again. “You have to understand—”

  “You bastard!” she screamed at him. “All these years you have lied to me, made me feel as if Devon had forgotten me.”

  “For the love of God, Lotte, I was trying to protect you!”

  Ignoring her brother’s pleading, Lotte turned to the madam. “I’ll need your help to get ready for tonight. Some clothes, makeup to cover my scar.”