by Amelia Grey
It was unusual for Briggs or any servant to take her to task over anything. He was a gentle man and always eager to please her. She was surprised he was so adamant. Obviously, he was trying to protect her from following Mr. Brentwood, and she appreciated his concern. But this was her decision. He had to accept that she was the one in charge. No one was going to keep her from finding out if her father was in that house.
“I know what I’m doing, Briggs, and I will be fine. You must wait for me here.” He continued to shake his head. “Do not disobey me,” she said, allowing her irritation at his insistence she not follow Iverson. “Now tell me you understand.”
He looked at the house again and then reluctantly pointed to his chest and then to the ground, indicating he would stay there.
She smiled. “Good.”
Briggs nodded.
Catalina lifted the hood of her cloak and pulled it over her head and started toward the house with a new determination to find her father and settle the issue of A Tale of Three Gentlemen once and for all. She walked up the steps and stopped in front of the door. Her hand shook slightly as she reached for the door knocker and hit it against the brass plate. It was a timid knock, so she struck it harder.
The door opened and a woman—a tall, buxom woman—looked her up and down and then immediately said, “It’s about time you made it here. What took you so long, and where’s your friend?”
Startled by her gruffness and confused by her words, Catalina said, “I’m not sure what you are talking about.”
“Sure you are. You were supposed to be bringing another gel with you. But you were expected earlier in the day, too, and we see that didn’t happen, don’t we?”
Catalina tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I think you must be confusing me—”
“Of course you’re sorry,” the woman barked aggressively. “Women like you are always sorry. I hear it from you every day. Never mind about what happened to your friend or why you are late. I don’t have time to listen to your excuses, anyway. You’re here now, and it’s past time to get started. Come in, and let’s get you dressed for work.”
“Work?” Catalina asked, surprised, and then it dawned on her the woman apparently thought she was there applying for employment.
She opened her mouth to tell her she was making a mistake, but her mind started swirling with possibilities, and she decided to stay quiet. Pretending to be the person the woman was expecting would get her in the house, and right now, that was her objective.
Catalina stepped into the expensively decorated vestibule. A tall, ornate mirror hung over a fancy, gilt-coated and marble-topped side table. Several red velvet-covered side chairs lined the walls. She heard muted chattering but not enough to indicate a large party going on. She might have thought it was a gaming house or a gentleman’s club of some nature if she wasn’t sure she heard feminine voices and laughter coming from down the corridor.
“Stop gawking at everything and acting like you’ve never seen a nice place before. You’re already late, and you need to get started. The night will be over before you know it.”
“All right,” Catalina said and followed the woman down a narrow, dimly lit corridor.
Catalina glanced inside a room as she passed an open doorway and saw gentlemen and ladies standing around talking. She slowed down in hopes of spotting her father or Iverson, but there were too many people crowded into the room. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, just like all the parties she’d attended. This couldn’t be a gentleman’s club or a high-stakes card game. She had never heard of either of those places allowing ladies to join them. That realization allowed Catalina to relax a little.
She expected the buxom servant to lead her to the kitchen, but instead she started up a dark back staircase. Catalina was beginning to wonder exactly what kind of servant work the woman expected her to do. Not that it really mattered. She planned to get away as soon as possible and get below stairs again where all the people were.
They bypassed the first floor and went on to the second, where they walked down to the end of the corridor. The woman stopped and opened a door and said, “In here.”
Catalina thought it an odd room when she entered. Against the far wall, there were three dressing tables with ornate mirrors. The other three walls were littered with hooks. Various styles and colors of clothing draped from each hook. It was almost too much for Catalina to take in at one time.
“Take your cloak off and pick out something to wear.”
She hesitated as she continued to look around. She just wanted to find her father and avoid Iverson. She didn’t want to take the time to change into servants’ clothes.
“Here, try this on. It looks like it might fit you.”
She handed Catalina a dark red gown with a neckline cut so low Catalina could look at it and know she certainly didn’t want to wear it. And the gown was far too fancy for servants’ wear. And why would the woman give her such a matronly color as dark red?
“Go on, take your cloak off,” the woman barked again. “You don’t have to wear that gown if it’s not to your liking.”
Catalina swung her cloak off her shoulders and laid it over her arm. She looked at the dress again.
“Now I know why you didn’t want to shed your wrap.” The woman jerked her hands to her hips and said, “Where’d you get such a fancy dress as that?”
Catalina looked down at her pale, coral-colored gown with its scooped neckline and delicate beading of faux pearls on the bodice.
“My modiste made it for me,” she said cautiously.
The woman’s brow furrowed deeply, and her lips pursed unattractively. “Sure she did, and she made my garment, as well. Hog-posh! She made it for your last employer, and you stole it from her.”
Affronted, Catalina gasped and said, “I wouldn’t take anything that didn’t belong to me.”
Pointing her finger at Catalina, she said, “I’m going to tell you right now, we don’t put up with stealing around here.”
“No, no, I would never do that,” Catalina defended.
“And if we find out you have stolen anything, Madame Shipwith will have you out the door faster than you can blink. And the only thing you can take with you is just the clothes on your back, and chances are, that won’t be very many.”
“I told you I would never… steal… anything.” Her words slowed down, and her voice ended almost as a whisper. What the woman said registered on Catalina’s mind. Maybe she didn’t hear what she thought she heard. Surely there weren’t two women by that name.
“Pardon me,” Catalina said, “but did you say Madame Shipwith?”
“You know that’s what I said. I didn’t stutter or stammer. And you need to learn right now, girlie, I don’t like having to repeat myself. You best remember she keeps a close eye on her girls, and so do I. But as long as you do your job and keep your gentlemen happy, you won’t have any trouble from her or me. You’ve got to keep the gentlemen coming back for more, or Madame Shipwith won’t be keeping you anymore, and out you go.”
Catalina’s body felt stiff and disjointed. Her mouth went dry, and her heartbeat sounded so loud in her ears she thought her head might explode. She looked at the gown in her hands.
What had she managed to get herself into?
Catalina lifted her gaze to the woman. “You aren’t expecting me to do maid’s work, are you?”
“Maid’s work?” The woman let out a hearty laugh. “For a pretty gel such as yourself? Madame Shipwith would never stand for that. Now are you going to put on that dress or stay in what you’re wearing?”
As the full reality of where she was hit her, Catalina swallowed hard and looked at the dress in her hands again. She was in a brothel. This woman thought she was a—Catalina couldn’t finish her thought. No wonder Briggs was trying so hard to keep her from coming inside. And she had been rude to him. He was trying only to spare her from knowing what this place really was.
She had to get out!
Catali
na looked at the large woman standing between her and the door that led to safety. “I’m afraid you’ve made a terrible mistake.” She shook her head. “No, I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.”
And to think her father and Iverson were here!
“No,” she whispered again, her legs threatening to buckle under her. “I can’t stay here.”
The woman laughed again. “I can see by your face you really thought you were going to be doing the work of a maid, didn’t you? Well, you’ll be serving up delicious meals, girlie. It just won’t be food.”
“I must go.” Catalina threw the dress to the floor and rushed past the servant.
The woman caught the tail of Catalina’s cloak and jerked her backward, making her stumble. “Slow down there. What’s the hurry? You’ve got nowhere else to go, girlie.”
Catalina let go of her wrap, leaving it in the hands of the woman. She raced out the door, slamming it shut behind her. She heard the servant calling for her to come back. Catalina held up the hem of her skirt with one hand and held onto the banister of the back stairs with the other. She raced down as fast as she could. The thought of seeing her father or Iverson in this place, or them seeing her, made her stomach quake. She wanted out of the house before either of them knew she was there.
Why didn’t I listen to Briggs?
She didn’t slow down, and thankfully, she didn’t miss a step on the stairs. She kept running when she made it to the bottom landing. She quickly rounded a corner that led to the main corridor of the house and smacked right into the arms of a tall, strapping man who was coming out of a side room.
Catalina tripped on her gown, lost her footing, and would have gone down to the floor if the man hadn’t caught hold of her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered breathlessly and immediately tried to pull her arms out of his grasp.
“No harm done to me,” he said in a friendly voice but didn’t let her go. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m quite fine,” she answered. “Turn me loose.”
“Settle down and take the time to get your feet under you.” He smiled. “What’s your hurry? Is the house on fire?”
“No, no fire, but I must get out of here.”
“You will, but I think you owe me at least a minute of your time for almost knocking me down, don’t you?”
He was a fair-looking man, and perhaps the age of her father, so she wasn’t frightened by him, but she didn’t like the feel of his tight hands on her upper arms. And she didn’t owe him anything.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“That’s better.” He smiled pleasantly again. “I haven’t seen you here before. Where has Madame Shipwith been hiding you?”
At the mention of Madame Shipwith, Catalina’s shoulders flew back, and she glowered at the man. “I do not work here, sir. Now turn me loose this instant so I may leave.”
His gaze washed down her face to her breasts and then back up to her eyes. “My minute’s not up. Now tell me, why would you want to go off in such a hurry? I understand Madame Shipwith reserves a few of her more expensive girls for certain gentlemen. I can understand her not wanting all of you to be available for public utilization, so to speak.”
Catalina was appalled by the man’s words, by his tight grip on her upper arms, and she tried once again to wrench herself free. Her movements only made him hold her tighter.
She had had enough of his brutish behavior. “Turn me loose,” she said again, grinding out the words from between clenched teeth.
He caught her up to him and reached down and kissed her neck just below her jaw. Catalina gasped and pushed at his chest with all her strength. He leaned closer, and she feared he was going to kiss her lips, so she turned her face away.
“Come now, pretty girl,” he said as his dry lips grazed her cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you or get you in trouble with Madame Shipwith. I just want to talk to you—for now.”
At that moment, Catalina realized the man wasn’t going to let go of her. He didn’t think he had to. And in this house, he probably didn’t. He had no reason to treat her as if she were a lady, because he didn’t think she was a lady. He thought she was a woman he could pay for. And that thought riled Catalina like nothing she could remember.
Sixteen
Kisses are like grains of gold or silver found upon the ground of no value themselves, but precious as showing that a mine is near.
—George Villiers
“Unhand me now, sir, or I will not be responsible for what I might do to you.”
“Please, do anything you wish.” He looked down at her and laughed. “It’s no wonder Madame Shipwith saves you for only a few select customers. You’re a lassie with spirit. I like that.”
“Then maybe you will like this.” Catalina yanked down hard on one arm and freed it from his grasp. She then jerked back and with all the power she could muster, swung her hand forward and slapped the man’s cheek as hard as she could. His head snapped back with a loud crack. He grunted painfully.
“Now unhand me, you ill-mannered oaf!”
He snatched her to him with a force so strong it wrenched her neck. His eyes were wild and his face full of fury. “You are a little hellcat. I think you need to be taught a lesson.”
Catalina tried to hit him again, but he grabbed her arm and jerked her up to his chest.
“Let her go!”
At the sound of Iverson’s strong voice, Catalina gasped and stopped fighting. She twisted her head around and saw him striding fast down the corridor toward her, looking as angry as the man she’d just hit.
“Who do you think you are?” The man sneered at Iverson as his hands tightened on Catalina’s arms. “And just what do you think you will do if I don’t let her go?”
“He’ll hold you down while I slap you again,” Catalina said confidently.
Within the blink of an eye, Iverson closed the distance between them and clamped his tight fist around one of the man’s wrists. The stranger grimaced in pain.
“Take your hand off her, or I’ll snap your wrist, and you won’t be holding any woman for a long time.”
Iverson’s tone was so cold, his voice so intense, Catalina shivered. He’d always told her he was a fierce protector, and now she had no doubt.
The man hesitated for only a moment as he looked into Iverson’s deadly serious eyes. He turned her loose. A moment or two later, Iverson let him go.
He held up both hands and stepped away from her. “Fine,” he spat, pulling on the ends of his waistcoat. “She’s yours. Take her. I hope she’s worth the money you’re paying for her.”
Iverson’s fist connected with the man’s jaw so fast Catalina never saw it coming. He fell to the floor with a thud, writhing like a fish out of water.
Iverson looked down at him and said, “Maybe next time you’ll recognize a lady when you see one.”
Eyes still filled with anger, he turned to Catalina and said, “Where’s your wrap?”
“On the second floor, but I’m not going back for it.”
“You were upstairs?” he asked incredulously. “How the hell did you get up there?”
That bit of information seemed to make him angrier. “A woman, the woman from the door took me. She thought I was here for… to—”
“Never mind,” he said and swung his cloak off his shoulders and lowered it over her head. “You can tell me later. Cover your face so no one will see you, and let’s get out of here.”
Catalina immediately felt the warmth from Iverson’s body in the cloak, and she shrouded herself in its safety. It was clear he was livid with her for following him, and given what just happened, she could understand. But right now, she didn’t care about that. He had come to her aid, and she felt immense relief and gratitude.
They rushed out the front door and down the steps. Catalina had to run to keep up with Iverson’s long strides, but she didn’t mind. She wanted to get away from that house as quickly as possible. Briggs stood by the lan
dau and opened the door when he saw her coming.
“She’s riding with me,” Iverson told the deaf man.
Briggs immediately started shaking his head and making hand motions for Iverson to back off.
“No, Iverson,” Catalina said, “Briggs is right. It doesn’t matter where I just came from, I can’t be seen getting out of your carriage in front of my house or at the mews.”
“All right,” Iverson relented. “But I’m riding with you.” He looked at Briggs. “Stop at the corner of Whitfield and Madison before you enter Mayfair. There’s a high hedge there, and I can get out without being seen.”
Catalina nodded, letting Briggs know the plan was all right with her. After Iverson signaled his driver to follow them, they climbed into the carriage, and Briggs shut the door behind them. Catalina took one side and Iverson the other. The coach took off with a rattle, a jolt, and a shake before rolling down the deserted street at a brisk pace.
With no warning, Iverson quickly moved to the seat beside Catalina and grabbed her with fierce urgency and wrapped her tightly in his arms, rocking her. She was safe and in his arms. He kissed the side of her face and her hair as he quietly, lovingly said her name over and over again.
Catalina didn’t know if he was trying to comfort her or himself when, in a ragged voice, he whispered above her ear, “You scared the hell out of me.”
She felt a tremble in his strong arms. Her throat was clogged with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled against his chest.
“Don’t ever go off on your own like that again,” he said passionately, squeezing her tighter. “You don’t know what it did to me seeing that man holding you against your will.”
She raised her head and looked into his eyes. Their faces were close together, their erratic breaths mingling. “Iverson, if you hadn’t—”
He titled her head back. “No, don’t talk, Catalina. Just kiss me. I desperately need you to kiss me right now.”
Passion flared. Their lips touched in a searing kiss that left Catalina feeling as if she had been starving for Iverson. Their mouths and their tongues clung together. Her hands tangled in his hair, and he pressed her close and kissed her harder. The sounds they made were fierce, gasping, and hoarse.