by Alyson Chase
“No, but the mop stick through the door’s handle did the trick.”
Molly looked unperturbed. Stretching her arms up, the girl arched her back. Colleen dropped her gaze from the high, pert breasts pressing through the thin layers of white silk net. She eyed her own breasts. Sturdy. Drooping a bit. Average. And, for a short time, functional. Max hadn’t seemed to mind her more used version, but with all the fetching options around here, he was sure to turn elsewhere.
As she wanted him to, Colleen reminded herself. Pushing him away last night by feigning interest in other men had seemed easiest. Easier than admitting to her guilt and seeing the disgust in his eyes. Easier than letting herself indulge in fantasies of a future life between them that could never be. No, it was better to end this now before they grew even closer.
His feelings for her had deepened. He’d revealed that as he’d thundered at her for going to St. Katherine’s without him; shown it through the fear in his eyes, the desperate press of his fingers into her skin. And her feelings … She sighed. Well, their relationship would have to come to an end, and the more intimate they became, the harder it would be. Max deserved better than her.
The bastard hadn’t needed to agree with her quite so quickly, however. Even encouraging her to lay with other men.
“The customer didn’t complain, did he?” Molly asked, drawing Colleen’s attention back to the conversation.
Tossing her quill on the desk, Colleen leaned back. “No. He seemed quite satisfied with the change. But”—she ignored the Cheshire-cat grin spreading across the girl’s face—“I won’t tolerate that behavior. Do it again and you’re out.”
Molly shot to her feet and leaned across the desk. “Don’t threaten me,” she hissed. “If I go, there are many men who would follow me. Many. You’d be wise to remember that.”
Colleen’s scalp prickled, and she slid her quill off the desk. Molly looked ready to claw her face, and Colleen didn’t want anything pointy that could be used as a weapon within reach. Years of living outside the bounds of civilized society had obviously affected this woman. But even though they were in a vulgar business, that didn’t mean their behavior had to match it. Colleen wouldn’t allow it.
She pushed to her feet, tugging down the hem of her waistcoat. “I do know you’re one of the favorites, and you would be missed. But that doesn’t mean you’re irreplaceable. Now, pull yourself together, watch your tone, and let’s try this again, shall we? Interfering with the other girls’ customers will not be allowed. I will protect their right to make a living, just as I would yours. Try to behave in a manner that you would like to be treated and we will have no problems. Agreed?”
Molly’s pretty mouth twisted in a scowl, but she was smart. She knew when to back down. In a fashion. “Of course, my liege.” She flounced to the door. “I guess the rumors weren’t true. Anyone who was taking that strapping man’s cock couldn’t be so unbearably miserable.”
“What?” Heat clawed up Colleen’s neck. “What rumors?”
The brunette looked back over her shoulder. “The girls thought you and our new owner were having relations, as you might say. They thought your prim-and-proper act was just that; an act. But now that I think on it, I should have known it wasn’t true.”
Colleen licked her lips. “Shouldn’t you have?”
“No.” Molly leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms under her chest. “Aside from the fact you’re much too tedious to let loose, Sutton’s behavior would have proved the rumor false. Just last night when we were”—she flashed her teeth—“together, I could tell how tense and unhappy he was. He isn’t the picture of a man who is sexually satisfied.” She laughed. “I’d hate to think you were a mediocre screw, not when you’re surrounded by so many good examples of how to please a man.” She winked. “In any event, I’ll let the girls know they were wrong about you and the baron, shall I?”
“Please,” Colleen said faintly.
With a waggle of her fingers, Molly was gone. Colleen slumped into her chair and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t know which was worse. The gossip about her debauchery or the knowledge that Max had jumped in someone else’s bed so soon after hers.
No, she knew which was worse. Even though she’d wanted Max to move on, his actions still lanced her like a betrayal.
Molly could be lying, of course, spiteful little thing that she was. But even if Max hadn’t lain with her last night, it would soon happen. If not with Molly, with someone else. Colleen rubbed her temples, but the low throb didn’t dissipate. Couldn’t he have at least waited until this business with Zed was over and she’d moved out of The Black Rose? So she didn’t have to see him with another woman?
She took deep, calming breaths. She had a business to run, and no time to concern herself over such frivolities like the piercing ache behind her breastbone. Her feelings were of little consequence. Colleen rose and exited her office. When she pushed out into the club’s main room, her shoulders were square and her chin held high. The burn prickling at her eyes she could do little about.
Lord Halliwell was across the room, a girl sitting on his lap. He looked up and down Colleen’s standard uniform, and his eyes lit up.
At least someone found her superior to the other women. Colleen gave him a polite nod and turned away. She found Lucy in the entrance hall, chatting with a footman.
“Can I speak with you a moment?” Colleen asked.
“Of course.” Lucy followed her to the cramped office off the kitchens. “Did I do anything wrong?”
“No.” Colleen gave the girl a warm smile. Lucy was the one club worker who didn’t give her trouble. “I’ve been giving you some added tasks around here lately, and I’m wondering how you find them. Do you enjoy the additional responsibility?”
Lucy blinked. “Yes. I think I do.” She sat back on the broken table they used as a desk. “Although, additional tasks should come with additional pay, don’t you think?”
Colleen kept her smile to herself. A woman of business after her own heart. “That is something we can discuss. If you were to formally take the position of assistant manager, a new salary can be negotiated.”
The girl’s jaw dropped, her eyes growing wide. “Assistant manager?! Are you in earnest?”
“Yes. I won’t be manager here forever, and when I leave, I think you might make a good replacement.” Colleen’s heart pinched. When she left, she’d never see Max again. “It will give you a hiring advantage if you have experience as the assistant. It will be a lot of work—”
Her words were wrung out of her on a gasp as Lucy threw her arms around Colleen and squeezed tight.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Colleen laughed and patted the girl on the back. “I take it you’d be interested in the position?”
Lucy pulled back, her eyes damp. “You have no idea how much. I never thought I could be anything more than … well, you know.” She dropped her head.
Colleen paused and examined the girl. All the women had seemed so content in their positions. This was the first glimpse she’d seen that even though they lived more comfortably than most Cits, and pocketed more in a night from their wages and gifts than Colleen had seen in a month at her and her husband’s clock shop, that the women might want for more.
“Are you unhappy here?” she asked gently.
“No.” Lucy smoothed down her skirts. “This situation is much better than what I grew up in, and I’m very grateful. But I’d like a husband. A family. And I don’t know any man who’d be happy with his girl doing this. At least, no man I’d want.”
“Well”—Colleen pulled a ledger from a shelf over the desk—“if you’d rather spend tonight tallying our kitchen’s inventory and figuring out what we need to order for next week, the job is yours. But we won’t be reordering from our wine supplier.” She frowned. “I need to find a new one.”
Opening the ledger, Lucy ran her index finger down the column of numbers. “Why? Mr. Landry has so
ld to us for years.”
“Well, he’s either been cheating you for years or decided to try his tricks with a new manager, thinking I wouldn’t get wise to his deception.” Colleen’s conversation with the man still left her unsettled. He’d been patronizing and ingratiating in equal measure and completely shocked when she’d shown him the door. Irritating man. “I discovered the wine he’d delivered had been watered down.”
“Huh.” Lucy bit the inside of her cheek and stared into space.
“What?”
She shook herself. “Nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“But …?” Colleen shut the door, needing to suck in her stomach as she squeezed it past her body and a cabinet. “My assistant manager needs to keep me apprised on what happens in the club, even if it is only suspicions.”
“I saw Molly leading Mr. Landry to one of the back rooms a couple of weeks ago.” Lucy shrugged. “I would have thought that with the money we pay him, plus the added incentive of Molly’s company, that he would have taken extra care to treat The Black Rose well. I’m surprised is all.” Sniffing, she perched on the upside-down amphora they used as a stool and moved a candle closer to the ledger on the desk. “I shouldn’t be surprised, however. Greed knows no limits.”
Colleen’s stomach churned. “Very true.” Certainly, her greed hadn’t. Her greed hadn’t been for more money or a better life than the common Cit. But she’d been greedy, nonetheless. She’d been tired of the sterility of the clock shop, of her marriage, and desperate for change. She’d prayed for change. Begged God for it.
And he’d punished her for her dissatisfaction by giving her what she’d asked for.
She’d stared at her home as it was being devoured by fire, and she’d thought that her husband would now have to change his mind. That he would want to run the flower shop with her. Escape from the gears and springs, from the endless ticking of a hundred clocks. She’d stared at her life as it burned, and she’d been happy.
She’d been happy until it had been hours and her husband still hadn’t returned home. Until the next day when she’d been told his body had been found in their bed. When she’d realized that her carelessness hadn’t been a gift from Heaven but retribution.
And when Max had pressed her into service at The Black Rose, she’d thought it naught but further punishment. That it was her lot to be surrounded by depravity and immorality.
Lucy scratched her head with the tip of a bit of lead as she examined the ledger, her face alight. Colleen watched her, her throat tight. She’d judged Lucy unfairly for her profession. But the girls here were supporting themselves in honest work. A simple business transaction where no one was hurt. If her cousin hadn’t taken her in after the fire, if Max hadn’t given her this job, what depths would she have sunk to survive? Colleen wasn’t fit to judge anyone.
“Lucy …” She hesitated. “How did you get involved in this? You’re smart, sensible. Surely there were other options.”
Lucy looked up and blinked. “Other options? Maybe. But at fifteen I couldn’t think of any. It was either this or starve. And I didn’t want to starve.”
Grasping her hands together behind her, Colleen leaned back against the door. “Of course not. But … you seem so happy. Isn’t it difficult, what you do? I mean, with how society views the profession, isn’t it hard to, I don’t know, to face yourself in the mirror each day?” She was fumbling for the right words, but it seemed important that she know. At some point these women had taken an irrevocable step across a line society drew, yet they all managed to laugh and find joy in their lives. Colleen had done worse. It had been an accident, but worse just the same. If these women could find peace with their actions, mayhap Colleen could move past her guilt, too.
Lucy carefully closed the ledger and put her elbows on the table. “My first time, I worked at another house, nowhere near as grand as this. There, you were lucky to have clean sheets on the bed each night. I cried after every man for three days.” She clenched her fists, her knuckles going white. “But at some point, you grow up. You can’t live life second-guessing your every move. Berating yourself over every mistake. And at the end of the day, you realize, it isn’t that big a deal. Just one body part slipping into another. If a man wants to pay for that, I’m happy to oblige him. And once you realize letting a man rut between your legs isn’t the be all end all that we’re raised to believe, it all becomes easier. Each man becomes easier. We all do what we have to survive. It’s not something I’m proud of or ashamed of. It just is.”
Colleen nodded slowly. Lucy had always seemed young. All the girls did. But they weren’t girls. They were women, probably just a year or two shy of Colleen’s age. And Lucy had experiences and wisdom Colleen couldn’t match. Perhaps instead of giving the orders all the time, Colleen should listen a little more. She might learn something.
“Thank you for your candor.” Colleen fingered the chain of her pocket watch. Her last link to her past. “I’ll tell the other women to arrange the schedule without you tonight. Let me know if you have any questions.” She slid out the door, closing it softly behind her.
Her mind a muddle, she plodded to the main room. One of the candles in the large chandelier was out, but she didn’t think anyone else would notice. Everyone else’s attention was on seeking joy. Pleasure. She’d had a brief glimpse into that world, reached unbearable heights, but once again she was a spectator looking in. It didn’t matter that it had been of her own choosing in order to save Max and herself from certain heartache. Colleen had never felt more alone.
A glass of champagne was lifted to her face. Colleen blinked, and the face of Lord Halliwell came into focus behind the glass. He pressed it into her hand. “You look like you need this, my dear. Are the books not balancing tonight?”
She sniffed at her glass, and tiny bubbles tickled her nose. What the hell? She tossed it back. “Not everything is about numbers for me, my lord.” Rolling her head, she tried to loosen the knot that had taken up residence where neck met back. “I hope you are having a pleasant evening?”
“It could be better.” He snagged another flute from a passing serving girl and handed it to Colleen. “The number one attraction to this club has so far been out of my reach.”
She frowned down at her glass. Men. Hoping to use alcohol to do the persuading for them. She wasn’t the sort to drown her troubles. Drinking to excess only led to more problems. If she was going to make a mistake, she would do it sober.
But another tiny sip wouldn’t hurt.
“The Black Rose has many attractions more alluring than me.” She looked up at the earl. “I think you persist in your pursuit only for the challenge I present.”
“Perhaps.” Swirling an amber liquid around in his snifter, Halliwell shrugged. “But I must confess that your natural authority appeals to me much more than a performance put on by a doxy. Is that so wrong?” He stared at the floor, the tips of his ears turning red. “Do you find my interests so repellent?”
Scuffing the toe of his boot through the thick pile carpet, the earl looked very much like the wayward little boy he wanted to pretend to be. But he was sincere. And more endearing than she’d ever noticed.
Resting her palm on his sleeve, she squeezed. “You don’t repel me. And there is nothing wrong with wishing to cede control to someone else for a bit.” After all, that was what he truly wanted. An authority figure to tell him what to do, to tell him right from wrong. Give someone else power over his actions.
She understood how freeing that could be. Allowing Max to play with her had shown her that. A pulse pounded in her throat. That was over with now. She’d kicked him from her bed, and he was moving on to other partners. The back of her throat ached. If she were smart, she’d do the same.
“Mrs. Bonner, I don’t want to assume.” Halliwell shifted closer. “But it sounds as though your feelings have changed. Would you consider spending some time with me in one of the rooms? We’d go only so far as you’re comfortable with. You’d m
ake the decisions.”
She jerked her head back. “My lord, you must know how out of place I feel with all”—she flapped her hand at the room—“this. I may not think it as wrong as I used to, but I couldn’t … I wouldn’t know how …”
He stared into his snifter. “Of course. I didn’t mean to presume.”
If she were smart, she’d do the same.
Her feelings for Max had deepened as their intimacies had progressed. Was that a result of their physical relationship or solely due to the man Max was? He’d moved on, treating his affairs as though they were nothing more consequential than sharing a dance with a woman. If she … joined with another man, could that be the means of lessening her attachment to Max? The thought of lying with Lord Halliwell turned her stomach, and she pressed her hand into her abdomen.
Each man becomes easier. Lucy had no issue separating out her emotions from the act of sexual congress. It was just one body part going into another, as the girl had said. Repetition seemed to be the key for diminishing the significance of the act for Lucy. She developed no tender feelings for her customers. She remained untouched by heartache when a client turned to another woman.
It seemed only sensible that Colleen should at least attempt to exorcise Max from her heart. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life aching for a man she could never have. She chewed on her lip. Perhaps, if she told Max the truth—
She cut that thought off before it flowered. There would be no forgiveness from Max. No understanding. She wouldn’t expect it for her crime. And she couldn’t pursue a relationship with him without telling him the truth. Keeping something like that from the man she loved would eat at her every day. So, her choices were either live alone for the rest of her life while pining for the baron or do something to restore her peace. She gave a small nod. It was only practical.
She stepped closer to Halliwell and a wave of dizziness swamped her. She swayed on her feet. What was she doing? She was an unmarried woman, She’d only sinned with Max because, well, it was Max, and she loved him. It hadn’t felt wrong to be in his arms. And what would Max think if he ever found out?