Her Defiant Heart (25 page)

Ladies in stylish evening gowns, some young, others clearly past the first bloom of youth, all of them lovely, were serving champagne to their gentlemen callers, entertaining them with an impromptu musicale, or engaging them in conversation. Laughter rose and fell lightly, not intrusively, and the men seemed serenely content to accept the sounds of amusement as their accolade.

Jenny averted her eyes and hurried her pace as one gentleman, having chosen his lady of pleasure, took her hand and led her toward the staircase and the upper bedchambers. Her cheeks felt uncommonly warm by the time she stepped into Amalie Chatham's emerald-hued office.

"You may sit," Amalie sit. She pointed to one of the twin velvet chairs in front of her desk. "You look half-frozen. May I get you something to drink? A touch of brandy, perhaps? " Without waiting for an answer, Amalie opened her liquor cabinet and poured two drinks.

Jenny hovered for a moment by one of the chairs before she sat down. "Please, Mrs. Chatham, I really don't want anything to drink. It is an emergency that brought me here, and it is only to deliver a message. I will be happy to go once I've seen..." Jenny broke off as a small snifter of brandy was thrust in her hands. "I don't want—"

"Nonsense," Amalie said in a voice that clearly was not meant to be opposed. "You're shivering and I can't help but think it's partially my fault. Mr. Todd should not have left you standing at the front door for so long before he came for me. No gloves or mittens. Your fingers are trembling with cold. Go on, drink up. All of it," she added when Jenny first taste of the brandy was only a sip. "Very good. You'll be warmer in no time. Now tell me about this emergency that's brought you out tonight. The streets are not safe, know."

"I have money for a cab," Jenny said. "Both ways."

"Both ways. Good." Amalie took Jenny's empty glass, placed it on the liquor cabinet, then sat behind her desk and warmed her own brandy by cupping the snifter in her palms. "The emergency?" she prompted when her visitor continued to hesitate. "Really, dear, you can't expect that I am going to allow you to disturb any of my patrons without knowing the nature of your business."

"Oh, I would not have to intrude," Jenny said quickly. "I will write the message down, and you can give it to him when he's... when he's... um, quite finished."

"Quite finished," Amalie said dryly. "Yes, there is that to consider. And how do you think I will know when that has occurred? Now, who is it you want to see and why?"

Jenny opened her mouth to answer and was startled into silence as the door behind her opened.

John Todd looked in, his eyes raising a question when he saw that Amalie was entertaining the visitor she had sworn to get rid of. "Your headache powders."

Excusing herself, Amalie rose gracefully from behind the desk and went to him. She motioned John Todd into the hallway and closed the door behind her, leaving Jenny alone. Keeping her voice low, she said, "You cannot imagine what has befallen us, Mr. Todd. If this is the way the New Year means to go on, then our fortune is secure. Is William Bennington still here?"

Bewildered by Amalie's leashed, yet intense, excitement, John Todd shook his head. "He left perhaps thirty minutes ago."

Amalie cursed softly. "That is unfortunate. I am certain he is the reason the young woman has come here. Stephen has not been in, has he?"

"I haven't seen him."

"Just as well. William has a better head on his shoulders."

"What are you talking about, Amalie? Who is she?"

Deep in thought, Amalie ignored the question. "You must find William and bring him here. I've taken the precaution of giving her a powder. Nothing to harm her, you understand, just something to make her drowsy and command her compliance." She winked at Todd. "When the sleepiness passes it will give her the itch." She laughed at Todd's startled expression. He had never approved of the fly. "You are such a contradiction, Mr. Todd. Twenty years in this business, almost as many in my bed, and you still retain your rather pedestrian principles. Do not give it another thought. I can get one of the girls to help me put her in a room while you bring William Bennington back here."

Todd's dark, winged eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Why am I going after Bennington? And why in the world would you give her a powder?"

"Did I not just say to let it rest? When have you gone wrong trusting me? I know what I'm doing. It's imperative that we keep her here for now. William would not want to learn that she slipped through our fingers. He will pay handsomely for the privilege of taking her off our hands. He has a lot of explaining to do, and I fancy he would rather speak his piece to me than to the police."

"You're not making any sense." John Todd frowned, worried now by the shrewd glitter in Amalie's emerald eyes. Even her smile was calculating. "Are we holding her for ransom?"

Amalie snapped at him. "Do not be melodramatic. Just find Bennington. If you cannot do that, then there is really no point in you returning. Our partnership will be at an end. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Good." She smiled and patted Todd's lean cheek lightly. "I have every confidence that you will be back before we close our doors for the night. That gives you three hours. We have had a good arrangement these many years, and you have profited nicely. I promise you that won't change if you follow my lead."

John Todd had never become accustomed to Amalie blowing hot and cold, but he was ever at her service. Her swift mood changes did not diminish his loyalty. He knew his place in their partnership, and he
had
always profited from her business acumen. This occasion, as odd as it was, was likely to be no different. He glanced up and down the hallway, saw that they were alone, and pressed his lips to the heart of her palm. At another time he would not have dared the liberty, but now, because Amalie clearly needed him for something important, he risked it. Dropping her hand slowly, he held her gaze and felt her excitement. "I'll get my coat."

Amalie slipped the headache powder underneath her bodice and escorted John Todd to the door. "Come to my room this evening," she said. "I'll be less mysterious with you then." She saw him swallow hard. That she could still command this man's devotion was always a source of pleasure to her. It was going to be a very good year. She fairly floated along the hallway, humming to herself.

Mere seconds after Amalie Chatham swept into her office she was once again earthbound. Her visitor had disappeared.

Cursing heartily, she spun on her heel. Her eyes darted to every corner of the room, searching out her guest's means of egress. The door that led from the office to her private suite
was slightly ajar. She followed the trail and discovered that her visitor had left the suite by taking a rear exit which led both to the outside and upstairs. Amalie angrily threw open the door to the back stoop. She saw dainty footprints and swirls in the snow made by the hem of young woman's cloak.

"Damn her!" Amalie slammed the door shut and leaned against it. She felt out of breath. Her frustration was only mildly abated by the knowledge that her visitor could not have gone far. The powder would be taking effect soon if it hadn't already. The stupid girl was going to freeze to death. There was no money to be made if that happened. Guided by the purest mercenary instincts, Amalie marched back to her office and out into the hallway to seek help. It was too late to call back John Todd, but one of her girls could be trusted to take over for her while she conducted her own search.

Maggie Bryant was coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray of coffee, chocolates, cheese wedges, and fruit when she nearly collided with Amalie. "What's wrong, Amalie? You look mad as a hatter."

"That's a vulgar expression," Amalie said tartly. Her eyes slid over Maggie, taking in the tightly cinched robe, bare feet, and tousled, untidy blond curls. She pursed her lips to convey her disapproval. Maggie's red velvet robe was modest enough, but Amalie knew better than to suppose that her most frequently requested boarder was wearing anything beneath it. "You know I don't like you girls using this main hallway when you are not decently dressed. If you want to serve your gentlemen callers something from the kitchen, summon one of the maids or use the back stairs. That's what they are there for."

On another occasion Maggie might have teased her mentor for her prudish insistence that the customers were really gentlemen callers, but not now. Maggie did not take issue with being upbraided for her manner of dress or for being caught using the main hallway. Tiresome explanations would not be welcome. Later, when Amalie was more clearly herself, Maggie could explain herself. Amalie wouldn't want to hear about the back stairs being icy cold because someone left the rear door open. Maggie couldn't imagine who would be so careless. She had used the stairs to go to the kitchen, and when she'd returned to the stairwell with her repast for Christian, the hallway had been bitterly cold. She might have thought the wind was responsible if it had not been for the tracks leading away from the house.

"What can I do for you?" asked Maggie. "Is it a headache? Do you want a powder?"

Amalie pressed her bosom. "I have one, but thank you. Who is that tray for? Can you take it to him, then play hostess for me? I need to go out."

"It's for Christian. Normally he would object if I left him in the lurch, but tonight... well, it has not been a good night for him."

"I hope it was nothing you did or didn't do."

Maggie shook her head. "At least I don't think so. He was ill-tempered when he got here, disagreeable because I was wearing black, and truly out of sorts when he couldn't..." She shrugged, shifting the weight of the tray. "Let me give this to someone to take to him. I'll borrow something from Dora to wear. That way there won't be any argument from Christian. I am unhappy with him anyway. He had the incredible nerve to call me Jenny.
Me!
After making such a fuss to see me, he calls me by another woman's name."

"That's all very interesting." Amalie's tone suggested it was anything but. "Don't dawdle, Maggie, I want to leave now. Give that tray to one of the maids and see if you can't find someone else for Mr. Marshall."

Maggie was sure she did not like the idea of another girl in her bed with Christian, but she recognized that her personal feelings were of no account. "All right. You go on, Amalie. I'll manage things nicely while you're out." She started to leave and then paused, calling to Amalie over her shoulder. "Where is Mr. Todd?"

"I sent him on an errand. If there's trouble, you're on your own."

"Not quite. The police commissioner is visiting Nancy." She gave her head a toss so that her hair swung across her back, and headed for the main stairs. For a few hours at least she could pretend she owned what was arguably the most famous brothel in the city, if not the country.

Maggie found one of the maids aimlessly going through a linen closet. "Leave whatever you were going to do until later," she said imperiously, holding out the tray. "Why did you not come when I rang? I had to leave my gentleman and prepare this myself. Here, take it to my room and give it to Mr. Marshall with my compliments."

Jenny stopped burying her head in the cupboard once she realized the person addressing her wasn't Amalie. Stuffing her woolen scarf and cloak behind a stack of clean sheets, she peeked around the door and forced herself to concentrate on what was being said to her. It was not an easy task. Her legs felt leaden, her head was muzzy, and her tongue was thick in her mouth. "Ma'am?" she said. "You want something?"

Maggie stamped her foot impatiently. "Take this tray to Mr. Marshall. That's the third door on the left." She frowned when the maid continued to stare at her stupidly. "I don't remember seeing you before. Are you one of the new girls?"

Jenny managed to keep the tray steady, though it sapped her strength to do so. She nodded.

When Maggie stepped closer she could smell brandy. "I'm giving you fair warning that Miss Chatham does not tolerate drunks, leastways not among the hired help. You'd do well to get rid of the liquor you have stashed in that cupboard before she finds it. I'll give you a second chance. She won't." Maggie conveyed her disgust with an eloquent snort. "You are so drunk now you can hardly stand. That won't do at all, m'girl. Not at all."

Jenny blinked hugely, trying to keep the woman in front of her in focus. Nothing was as it should be, and it hadn't been since she set foot in Amalie's parlor house. "Mr. Marshall?"

"Yes." Maggie pointed a finger in the direction of Christian's room. "Down there."

"Very well," Jenny said with quiet dignity. She started to turn away, hoping to manage the thing without tripping over her own feet. She knew she had no head for liquor, but what she was feeling now was outside her experience. It was as though she could not direct her body, as if she were no longer the one in command of hands and feet and fingers and toes.

"Just a minute." Maggie stopped her. "What's your name?"

"M'name?"

"Your
name,
you great, stupid girl."

Jenny almost began to giggle. With the portion of her mind that was still functioning rationally, she realized it was probably not in her best interest to point out that she was hardly a great girl when the other woman fairly towered over her. But then Jenny wondered if perhaps she was only seeing it that way. No matter. At the moment she certainly felt stupid, so there was no sense taking exception to sharp words. "Jenny," she said finally. In spite of her efforts to say it clearly, it hardly sounded like Jenny to her own ears.