Page 10 of The Gilded Lady
“Do you think it could be someone else from Victoria House?” he asked.
“I hate to think so. We’re like a family here. My ladies are loyal.”
“And you’re certain none of them know who you are?”
“None of them know,” she said quietly. “Only Able.”
“Well I suppose that’s it then. We’ll see what we can find out from the staff tomorrow.” He clapped his hands to his knees and made to stand.
“What happens now?” she asked. If they were done with questions, she needed to go back downstairs to finish work for the night. The singer she’d hired for the evening should be almost ready to go on. “I have work to do, but you’re welcome to go collect your things and move them to my suite.”
He gave a shake of his head and a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I go where you go.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. She knew what she thought he meant, but surely he didn’t actually mean that.
“I don’t trust whoever left this not to try to get to you. Able or I need to be with you at all times.”
His words nearly knocked the wind out of her. “At all times? Even in my own house?”
His smile widened as if he was enjoying this. “Get used to me, Glory. I’m going to be around. A lot.”
Sweet Lord above, she was in trouble.
The main lounge was the largest room in the house. It had been intended as a ballroom with a large chandelier gracing the ceiling in the center of the sizable space, flanked by two smaller ones on either side. They were the only original feature of the house left behind when the owner had sold it to the previous madam. The slivers of faceted glass, not crystal, flickered in the light of hundreds of candles making it look like crystal. When the town had changed over to electricity several years earlier, Glory had opted not to change out the chandelier. She loved the antique feel. Sometimes she closed her eyes and imagined she was in a grand London ballroom and a handsome gentleman would sweep her up into a waltz. But then she’d open her eyes to realize she was in Helena where the gentlemen were in short supply. They might say all the right words, but they were all only interested in things that sparkled—gold, silver, and copper—and she couldn’t afford to forget that. Maybe that’s how all men became once they reached a certain level of wealth. She couldn’t honestly say for sure. She’d lived in her cocoon at Victoria House since she was sixteen.
The one thing she did know for sure was that even if a proper gentleman from London were to walk in, he’d have little interest in a brothel madam. Well, little interest beyond the physical. Not that it mattered to her. She’d had her chance at marriage and it hadn’t worked out. Now she knew that it wasn’t something that interested her. She liked her independence too much to ever give it up. It meant a lot of lonely nights, but the payoff was worth it.
The song ended, bringing Glory back to the present as the room broke out into polite applause. She smiled as she took to the dais to thank Sally and address the crowd. “I’d like to extend my thanks once again to Mrs. Sally Roarke for gracing our little corner of the world with her beautiful voice.”
The older lady inclined her head, and the men applauded again coupled with a few suggestive whistles. Sally was a favoriteat Victoria House and made the trip about twice a year from St. Louis where she lived. None of the men seemed to realize she was the same Mary Walker who had worked here years before Glory had taken over.
When Sally had given a curtsy and waved her way out, Glory addressed the room again. “That’s all the entertainment for the night, gentlemen. The house will be closing soon, so please make your final drink selections.”
There were ten women working upstairs tonight. Most of them seemed to have already found patrons for the evening, but a couple were talking to men in the lounge. When Glory had taken over she’d brought in plush sofas and divans worthy of her previous life on a plantation. She’d also scattered tables throughout to encourage conversation which encouraged drink sales.
“What if my final selection includes you?” A disembodied male voice called from a table of men in the far corner.
Glory didn’t pay him any attention as she left the small stage. It wasn’t unusual for the random man here or there to try to buy her time, though it was common knowledge that she wasn’t for sale. Instead of replying, she focused on speaking to the few regulars in the audience. It was her ritual. She’d thank them for coming out, make conversation, and move on to the next table, working the room before she retired for the evening.
She had never been as aware of another person as she was aware of Zane lurking in the background as she worked. He hadn’t imposed or even really made his presence known. He’d taken a seat out of the way to blend in with the other customers, and he’d been a fixture in the house all week so no one even noticed him, but she could feel him. His gaze was like the lightest of weights pressing into her skin, massaging over her and leaving her warm and tingly in ways that were equally as disturbing as they were pleasurable. She didn’t know what to dowith the sensation so she settled on ignoring it in the hopes that it would go away.
It never really did, though, and as she made her way upstairs to retire for the night, she knew without looking that he’d followed her out the door. His large presence followed her up the stairs and down the hallway. She felt him pause behind her as she unlocked her door. Her eyes drifted shut as she took in his scent, a mix of leather and man. She couldn’t describe it other than that. He smelled rugged and dangerous and it was all appealing in a very confusing way.
Pushing her door open, she stepped inside and held it for him. She managed to give him a small smile that she hoped was welcoming. It was so odd to have a man in her private suite. Able was the only man in recent memory she could remember ever being inside.
“Do you really think this is necessary?” she asked when she’d closed the door behind him and locked it. He was already across the room, checking the bathing chamber and her bedroom for the anonymous letter writer.
“Yes,” was all he said.
Finished prowling for strangers lurking in the shadows of her bedroom, he walked back over to her. His brow was furrowed and his shoulders seemed stiff. “Do men always talk to you that way?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“That ass who wanted to…” His jaw clenched as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“You mean the man who wanted to take me upstairs.” Some small part of her warmed at the thought of him being upset about the question. It was an unreasonable way to feel. She and Zane meant nothing to each other, so he had no reason to feel upset about it. But still, it was nice to have his concern. “It’s part of the job.” She shrugged.
The muscle in his jaw worked as he looked away. It was clear that he didn’t like that part of the job.
