Rue Allyn (4 page)

Edith nodded, gulped, and stood. “Are you Madame Duval?”

The woman floated across the room, anchoring herself in the other slipper chair. Behind her came a chambermaid who carried a tea tray.

“Put the tea on the table, Bessie, then leave us. I’ll pour.” She gestured to the table between the slipper chairs. Turning to Edith, the woman spoke in quiet, cultured tones as exotic as her appearance. “Yes, I am Madame Duval, but please sit; I beg you. You may call me Cerise. First names are much friendlier, don’t you think?” She paused, waiting for Edith to give her first name.

“I’m not fond of such informality among strangers, Madame.” The madam needed to know that Edith could hold her own and wouldn’t be manipulated. Also a standoffish attitude might help to preserve her privacy. Alden Shipping and Industries had ventures that were known worldwide. In the United States, only the Vanderbilts eclipsed the Alden fortune. Lord knew what would happen if this woman discovered that Edith was an Alden.

“As you wish, though I hope we won’t be strangers for long.” From a bunch in the bowl at the center of the tea tray, Duval pulled a grape. She placed the fruit against her lips then drew the grape into her mouth with a delicate swipe of her tongue. “I understand you wish to discuss a private matter with me?”

Suddenly warm, Edith accepted a cup of tea, sipping to delay the inevitable. She swallowed the last of the liquid and set the porcelain back on the tray.

Madame Duval’s patient silence proved unnerving.

“I wish to retain your services.” Edith blurted the lie. She had no desire to reveal her true purpose for gaining access to the bordello. No good would come from Madame Duval knowing that Edith was in search of her sister and the truth of what happened here. Her sister could not be guilty of murder. Kiera was the photographer, not the murdered man as the newspaper had claimed. Edith intended to prove it.

Duval raised a delicate brow. “More tea?”

“Yes, please.” Edith turned her head to meet the woman’s gaze. She wore a sympathetic smile, but her glance traveled over Edith, assessing, calculating.

“I … I know my request must be somewhat unusual … ”

“Not as unusual as you might imagine. However, I want to be completely clear as to what services you desire. If it is me personally you wish to retain, I must tell you that I am very expensive and will be more so than usual since my preference is for men not women.”

Edith sputtered the tea she just sipped.

“Oh dear.” Madame handed Edith a napkin. “I’ve shocked you. Are you certain that you wish to become a client?”

Edith set her cup aside again, mopped at the tea stains, and gathered her courage. Thank heaven the stains would not show on her dark dress. “I am quite certain, but I wish to hire you to find me a male ah, er … ”

“Lover?”

Edith nodded.

“Why?”

What are my reasons? I want Kiera home, safe and secure from all dangers. I want her included in the inheritance, if I can find a way to change that absurd will. Without our inheritance, all three of us might just as well hire on with you. We’ll be destitute — no shelter, food, or resources. I won’t allow that to happen, and I can’t imagine trusting you with information about my vulnerabilities. Just think what you might do if you knew about that humiliating will. The terms essentially give any man who knows about it the means to use our bodies against us and shackle us into degradation worse than any that you could employ, Madame Duval. I have to find my sister, and I have to find a means to change that will and prevent a fate worse than prostitution. I will move heaven and destroy Hades to find Kiera. By comparison, a few hours in a bordello are insignificant.

“I see no reason to explain myself. The matter is private.” Edith drew herself up. She felt shame whenever she thought about her reasons for residing in a bordello — however temporarily. But she wasn’t about to share that sort of information with a procuress.

“
Quel dommage
. Mr. Smithfeld is, how should I say, in poor health?”

Edith inclined her head as if agreeing. “As I said the matter is private.”

Duval smiled. “Very well. What sort of man are you interested in, and how much are you willing to pay?”

Edith hadn’t thought she would have a choice. How many men would want to perform such a service for pay? “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“I can assure you that all of the studs in my stable are virile and appealing as well as clean and free of pox. You have but to tell me if you want a man who is short, tall, American, Russian, Chinese, blond or dark, one who will talk with you first or one who will set to business without conversation, as well as any other personal requirements.”

“Oh my,” Edith picked up her tea once more and sipped as she thought. “Virile and appealing are all well and good, but I would like a man with some intelligence, so I suppose some conversation is warranted to discover just how intelligent he is. I definitely want a man of my own race though beyond that I do not care if he is dark or fair. I’d prefer a Southern gentleman or perhaps someone from England.” She wanted to reduce the risk that she might meet the man again once she returned home.

“Hmmm.” Madame Duval lowered her eyelids and sipped her tea then set down her cup. “Would a man with Irish in his background be satisfactory?”

“I suppose, though I would prefer a man with some manners.” She stated her preferences as if they mattered, but Edith had no intention of actually receiving the services she claimed to want. Her only purpose was to gain access to the bordello in order to find clues to Kiera’s whereabouts. The outrageous terms of Grandfather’s current will were not to be considered. She would find a way to change those terms once she found Kiera.

The smile Duval returned was brilliant. She seemed very pleased with something. “Is that all you require?”

“Yes, well, and your discretion of course.”

Madame rolled her eyes. “Oh la, that goes without saying. I’ll need at least twenty-four hours to find the best stud.”

Edith had hoped for more time but could not afford to appear reluctant. “That will be satisfactory.”

“Also, I do not allow my employees to work outside this house. You’ll have to rent a room here.”

The idea of residing in a bordello prompted another bout of nerves that was difficult to quell. She had doubts about Duval’s honesty — the woman was, after all, a brothel owner. Nonetheless Edith forced herself to calm. Money motivated Madame, and Edith could provide that. With careful economy she could pay for lodging and ensure her supposed lover’s silence regarding the fact that he actually provided no services. As for Duval, she was unlikely to displease a paying customer. All that was required was shrewd bargaining. “I already have rooms.”

“Cancel them. Because of the delay in finding the right man, I’ll give you the first night free.”

The woman was almost too accommodating. However, being on the premises would make the search for clues to Kiera’s circumstances much easier, so the offer was tempting. Edith would be able to avoid going out in public and thereby minimize risk to her reputation. When the time came, she could disappear from San Francisco as anonymously as she had arrived. With luck she’d discover Kiera’s whereabouts quickly. No, she didn’t trust Duval farther than the nearest penny, but the offer served Edith’s purposes too well to decline. “I suppose I could have my luggage sent over.”

Duval smiled. “Let us agree on a price first.”

“What do you consider reasonable?”

The madam named a figure more than double all of Edith’s discretionary funds. She had no idea what a fair price was for a hired stud and renting a room in a bordello, but she did know something about haggling. Many a time she’d had to dicker for a reduced price to avoid exhausting the entire pittance Grandfather allowed for household necessities. She shook her head, set down her tea, and gathered her gloves. “I believe I must take my business elsewhere.”

“I named a fair price. You won’t find better at any reputable house.”

As if a bordello could be considered reputable. “A price is only fair if the customer can afford to pay.”

The madam pursed her lips. “True. What can you afford?”

Edith named a figure one-eighth of the amount Duval had given.

“You bargain well. Double that and we have a deal.”

Edith smiled. This small success buoyed her confidence that she would find Kiera and bring her home.

“Done.”

“Excellent, now about the room rental.”

“Oh no, that figure included the room.”

“Don’t be stingy, Mrs. Smithfeld. I am giving you an extremely good discount on the standard fee for stud services. Why, the discount alone would pay your rent for the month.”

“I doubt I’ll need the place for more than a few days. I’m paying one dollar a day now. I’ll give you the same.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Do you have meals, cleaning, and laundry services at your current lodgings?”

“No.”

“I treat my clients royally, Mrs. Smithfeld, but I expect them to pay for it. I won’t take less than ten dollars a day paid in advance.”

Edith did some swift calculations. If she stayed less than a week, there would be enough money for her return train fare, but precious little for buying a man’s silence. She must keep her stay short. The longer she remained here, the greater the risks to both her and Kiera. Also she must return home before Grandfather passed on. “Ten dollars per day. The first day paid in advance.” She extended her hand.

Madame Duval shook on the deal. “Excellent. I’ll ring for Bessie to show you to your room. Instruct her where to send for your luggage. I’ll also have her provide you with a few things that you may use for your own entertainment. Among them are a Japanese picture book called a kerisu and a hand-copied text titled the
Kama Sutra
, a fascinating book about sexual congress translated into English by the author for me personally. I highly recommend both. If you have questions about any of the items or the books, you may ask Bessie or request to see me. I suggest that you not roam the hallways. Doing so might lead to unpleasant encounters or expose your identity to those less discreet than they should be.”

“I appreciate the advice. Perhaps we could talk now. I wish to consult your expertise regarding seduction and preventing pregnancy.”

Madame Duval’s expression reminded Edith of her grandfather when he’d completed a lucrative business deal, but the look disappeared when the madam smiled and refilled the tea cups. “I’ll be happy to advise you.”

Cerise Duval leaned back in her chair and sipped at her tea as the door closed on the nominal Mrs. Ebenezer Smithfeld. Something bothered Cerise about the woman more than the absurd story of an inadequate spouse. If that woman was married to anyone, Cerise would eat her garters for lunch. She had the niggling impression that she’d met Mrs. Smithfeld before. Cerise had met a great number of innocents in the years she’d made her fortune by peddling flesh. That kind of familiarity was her bread and butter. She’d risk her entire reputation as San Francisco’s most powerful woman that Mrs. Smithfeld was a virgin out to ruin herself. The question was how to make the most profit from her. Cerise considered for a while, developing her plans. Course decided, she moved to her desk and wrote two short notes then rang the bell for Bessie.

The maid appeared in a few moments. “Yes, Madame?”

“Did you provide our guest with all the usual items?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And did you include the customary stimulants to her food and drink?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent. Take the tea tray away and have these two notes delivered immediately to the Chinaman and Judge Jeremiah Trahern in that order. The messenger should wait for the Chinaman’s reply then escort the Judge back here. Once you’ve seen to that send my secretary in. We have work to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As she said she would, Cerise had blamed the loss of the Arrowhead’s human cargo and the death of the Chinese aide on the Trahern brothers. Thus, her tenuous partnership with the Chinaman remained intact. Through his network of informants the Tong boss would discover the information she needed. Within the week, two at the most, she would know everything there was to know about Mrs. Ebenezer Smithfeld.

While the Chinaman plotted his revenge on Dutch and Trey for the lost merchandise and the dead aide, Cerise had her own plans for the oldest Trahern brother. He was a thorn in her side and a loose end that she must control. His ne’er-do-well father was the perfect tool for the job. She’d use the old man and Dutch’s own desire for respectability to bring him to heel.

Over the years the elder Trahern brother had caused her considerable difficulty. She should have killed him the other night when she had the chance and saved herself more problems, but she’d had a rare sentimental moment. Besides, if Dutch were dead, who would take the blame for all that mayhem aboard the Arrowhead? As for that older murder, Dutch would never spill what he knew. His precious reputation would evaporate if that story got out. While seeing him brought low might be gratifying, it wouldn’t be enough. No she would not be satisfied until Dutch Trahern was so thoroughly ruined that he came crawling back and begged to do her bidding.

• • •

About the same time that Bessie was preparing a bath for the newest acquisition — Cerise always thought of the girls and women in her household as items acquired for business purposes — Cerise answered a knock on her parlor door.

Her butler stood there. Beside him a sullen, disheveled drunk leaned against the lintel. “Judge Jeremiah Trahern, as you requested, Madame.”

Cerise smiled. This was going to be fun. “Come in, Judge. Ames, would you bring us a decanter of the Dalmore single malt?”

Trahern’s expression transformed from sullen to bright. A smile replaced his pout of self-pity; his shoulders squared, and he straightened his short, lean frame. Rubbing his hands together, he wet his lips, smacking them in anticipation of the fine Scotch. “Cerise, old girl, y’ always knew how t’ treat a guest.”