Page 40 of Dare to Love a Duke
His piercing gaze shifted to her. “I always saw you.”
Her hand throbbed with the need to touch him, to slide her palm up his chest and feel the strength of his body. But yielding to attraction would only complicate matters—and imperil her heart.
“The workers here have always supported my innovations,” she said as neutrally as she could manage. “They, like I, believe that we ought to give the guests exactly what they want, and we should also make changes so the guests are compelled to return again and again.” Her gaze flicked to the empty stage at one end of the ballroom, and then to the musicians in the far corner. “After I presented the idea to the staff, they were in favor of adding both performances and music.”
“Haven’t seen a performance in some time,” he noted.
“Admittedly, I haven’t been attentive to maintaining them, but that should be remedied. Guests seemed to enjoy watching the spectacle.”
“The addition of music was a clever one.” He eyed her with admiration. “That’s how the former proprietress came to choose you as her successor, by presenting her with good ideas.”
Lucia permitted herself a little smile. Shehadworked damned hard to get to where she was, and she felt a glow of gratification that he saw her labors as commendable.
“I made sure she saw me as invaluable,” she said primly.
She’d been one of Mrs. Chalke’s girls at a brothel on St. Martin’s Lane near Covent Garden, and when given the prospect to work one night a week away from the house, seized the chance. Opportunity was ripe, and she wouldn’t let it rot on the vine.
“It was quick,” she continued, “my movement from serving refreshments to overseeing the ordering of wine and supplies for the kitchen.”
“I wager even that wasn’t enough,” he said approvingly.
“It wasn’t,” she said, which was a simple way of describing her measureless ambition.
Neapolitans all adored thecommediacharacter Pulcinella. They cheered his antics, laughed at his ridiculous schemes, and empathized with his perpetually empty belly. But Lucia had always breathlessly awaited the appearance of Columbina on the stage. The wily, flirtatious character was always one step ahead of everyone else, and though she was a servant, she expertly manipulated situations to her mistress’s advantage.
As a girl roaming the streets of Napoli, earning coin and favors by running errands and serving as an intermediary in the constant shift of things and services, Lucia had dreamt not of becoming an actress and performing the role of Columbina, but tobeColumbina. To run the show, to be perpetually aware—to be, ultimately, the powerful force behind the scenes.
“One added duty wasn’t enough to content me,” she said with a tip of her head. “Maneuvered myself into hiring and training new staff, paying off local law enforcement, tallying the night’s receipts.”
Hardly had Mrs. Chalke a notion to undertake a task before Lucia completed it for her.Shrewd gel,Mrs. Chalke had said with a knowing smirk.That’s the way we get ourselves out of the gutter. Cunning and determination.
“The Orchid Club belongs to you,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “but it flourishes because it’smine. More than that, the staff wants for nothing because of my constant attention. I keep their wages high, protect them when they are threatened, and make allowances when they’re unable to perform their duties.”
She’d never acknowledged her own work—not at such length, and not aloud—but to speak of it now filled her with a surge of pride, as if liquid light flowed through her veins. It was too easy to dismiss accomplishments and dwell only on the negative.
But to do so meant robbing herself of purpose, of joy. She couldn’t let that happen.
Confidently, he said, “They appreciate your efforts on their behalf.”
She’d heard it from their mouths, but always fretted that it wasn’t enough, that nothing she did would ever be enough. Why didn’t she believe them? They wouldn’t lie. At the very least, they wouldn’t stay with her for this long. Yet they had. She drew strength from that.
“We’re all living this dangerous, brutal world together,” she said. “Merely surviving isn’t enough. The least we can do is care for one another.” A wave of emotion swept through her, but she didn’t want to give him the impression that she was easily agitated. Trying to regain her equilibrium, she ran a hand down the front of her skirts. “Let’s move on. There’s more to see.”
In short order, they visited the small pantry upstairs where Lottie cleaned glasses and plates as well as the chamber set aside for guests who had grown unruly or lethargic from too much drink. Drowsing people sprawled on mattresses piled on the floor, while George, a member of the staff, watched over them.
“Though the establishment provides only two glasses of wine,” she explained softly so as not to wake anyone, “occasionally, they arrive having already imbibed. We try to turn them away, but they slip through from time to time. Our enforcers bring them here to rest until they’ve regained control of themselves, and then we have this good fellow minding them as tenderly as a shepherd with his flock.”
“They’re not a bad sort,” George said affably. “Just a little disguised, is all.”
“Seems as though you’ve a thankless task,” Tom said. “Sitting here, watching this lot sleep off their drink.”
“Ah, no,” George answered with cheer. “I don’t mind it. Gives me a chance to catch up on my reading.” He held up a newspaper. “Amina buys a paper for the house, and us that know our letters get a chance to thumb through it. At our staff meal, she’ll sometimes read aloud so that them that ain’t got their letters know what’s what in the world.”
Tom nodded thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to her.
When she and Tom stepped back into the darkened hallway, Tom asked, “What of those guests who will not go quietly to their rest? Do they threaten you with exposure?”
“No one will speak of us, lest they tarnish their own reputations. And anyone who gets obstreperous here... well, one of our gents supplements his income with prizefighting, and the other grew up the middle of eight children.”
