Loving Lizzie Finn

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

B yron rubbed his aching temples and added the column of numbers in his ledger again. The sum came up different than the last two attempts and was still off from what he’d expected. Emitting a groan, he leaned back and stared blankly at his barren office wall.

At least the police had yet to visit. He’d thought for certain he’d be hauled away for trespassing after last night. He shook his head. How stupid he’d been. He shouldn’t have gone to Teague’s home, and then to admit why he’d come and what he was looking for to the woman who’d found him ... Damn. He deserved to go to jail.

Yet, the police hadn’t come for him. Why not? He must have given Teague’s niece enough clues for her uncle to determine his identity. Teague wouldn’t have given him mercy. Then Teague’s niece? Had she convinced her uncle to spare him? Or perhaps she hadn’t told her uncle anything at all.

Byron tapped his fingers on his desk. She’d sounded so sure that her uncle was innocent of any wrongdoing. Had she changed her mind? Maybe doubt had crept in. Would she help him find the proof he needed if he asked her?

He huffed a laugh. He’d be crazy to ask such a thing. Why would she help him? Then again, it couldn’t be any crazier than searching Teague’s house.

Truthfully, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head all night long. The feelings she’d inspired in him, the sense that they were meant for each other … He must have imagined it. Love at first sight? Now that he was sober, the idea seemed idiotic.

Retrieving his watch from his pocket, he flipped open the lid. Time to meet with Landry, a shoemaker who had grumbled about a loan agreement some time back. If Landry’s situation was the same as his, perhaps they could stand together against Eldon Teague. Not likely, but he had to try. He’d tracked down a total of three others who had complained about Teague’s bank, and so far, no one he’d talked to had experienced an illegal change to their loan agreement. In fact, none of their grievances involved illegal practices done by those at the bank.

Byron stood, and his stomach roiled at the movement. Damn cheap rum.

He snatched up his hat and headed out the office door into the busy shop. He surveyed his workers, people more like family than employees, all busy making women’s accoutrements: hosiery, gloves, hats, and reticules. Gabe, their framework knitter and Byron’s brother-in-law, glanced Byron’s way and waved him over. Trouble? Byron approached the giant hosiery machine and the moustached man sitting on its bench, operating the pedals.

Gabe didn’t pause in his work, but he did assess Byron with a sideways glance. “You look like hell. Did you drink a whole bottle of whisky last night?”

Byron cringed. “Rum. And good morning to you too.”

“What’s wrong?” Gabe asked, his usual jovial mien gone.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not like you to drink to excess,” Gabe replied, his attention fully returning to the machine before him. “What’s bothering you?”

After all these years, Gabe knew him well. Perhaps too well. Still, no one knew of the loan agreement change. Well, no one but the woman from last night. And it would stay that way. No reason to worry everyone yet. “Nothing is bothering me. Just a foul mood and a bad night.”

“He’s lonely,” Ruby chimed in from her place at a nearby table. His sister’s fingers nimbly wielded a needle, embroidering the hose in her hands with delicate designs store owners raved over. It seemed customers couldn’t get enough.

“Byron needs a wife,” she added.

“So you’ve said many times.” A wife. Not everyone was lucky enough to find true love like Gabe and Ruby. While the two of them had their share of concerns, they always seemed happy.

Their two young boys sat quietly on the floor, playing with blocks of wood. To have such a family would be a blessing indeed. Byron tousled the boys’ hair as he walked past.

On his way to the stairs, Byron nodded to his foreman. “I’ll be out for the next hour.”

He nodded back. His gaze swept over Byron, but he held his silence. Byron’s jaw clenched. Did everyone notice his sorry state? Damn. What would Landry think? No time to change the appointment now. Once again, he was making a mess of things. His father shouldn’t have passed this company on to him. In only three months, he was in over his head.

Lizzie held her head high and ignored the serving girls’ stares as she sat at her table in The Tea Room, an establishment that served only women. In her search for employment, she had asked for a position here, with no luck. Did Evelyn Cook and her staff know of Lizzie’s reputation?

“Ho, Lizzie!” Stella waved from the entrance and marched over.

Even more shocking … What would Evelyn Cook and her staff think if they knew Stella Davis, Lizzie’s lunch companion, was a prostitute? They’d probably kick her and Stella out straightaway. Although none could tell Stella’s occupation by looking at her. She was dressed the same as any other working-class woman. While most working-class women didn’t usually spend their hard-earned coin dining out, today was a special day.

Lizzie couldn’t suppress her smile. She rose to her feet. “Happy Birthday, Stella.”

They exchanged a hug, and every eye in the place turned to them. Let all the busybodies speculate if they wished. Stella was a beautiful person inside and out, and as close to a sister as Lizzie would ever get.

“Thank you! I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” Stella admitted as they took their seats. “You really don’t have to buy me lunch.”

“I want to.” Stella was her oldest friend. They’d grown up together in the same brothel, only Stella’s mother had welcomed the added income Stella could provide by entertaining men, whereas Lizzie’s had insisted her daughter stay clear of that life. While Lizzie didn’t have much money, her uncle did give her a small weekly allowance, enough to afford this simple meal.

A server approached swiftly. “What can I get you?” she asked, avoiding their gazes.

Stella perused the menu, although, as far as Lizzie knew, she could read only a few words, though not for lack of trying. Both Lizzie and her mother had attempted to teach Stella, but Stella claimed she saw the words differently than most.

“Coffee and … Oh, I can’t decide.” Stella peeked over the top of the menu. “Lizzie, you know what I like better than I do. Why don’t you order for both of us?”

Lizzie had studied the menu before Stella’s arrival, but she scanned its contents again. “I’ll have coffee as well and the chicken stew with dumplings.” She glanced at Stella. “What would you prefer? Roast sirloin or fried beef steak and onions?”

“Fried, definitely.”

The server bobbed her head and hurried off as fast as she had come.

“I could try to teach you again,” Lizzie offered.

Stella shook her head. “It’s no use. Besides, I have little need of reading in my profession.”

“But, we could—”

“How is your search for a job coming along?”

Fine then. Stella could have her way. “Not well, but I’ll keep trying.” Ever since her aunt had declared it was time for Lizzie to find a husband, she’d been searching for employment at every household and business in the area. Over a week of inquiries, and not one offer.

“You could look farther out. Maybe hire a hack, if need be,” Stella suggested.

“Too expensive. I’ll walk.”

Their server rushed to the table with coffee, pouring each of them a cup, then darted off again. Either this restaurant prided itself on speedy service, or someone wanted her and Stella to dine and leave as quickly as possible.

“Could be worse.” Stella sipped her coffee. “Helen just found out she’s carrying.”

Lizzie grimaced. Another prostitute with child. “What will she do?”

“Says she’ll keep the babe, although Madam Maude is none too happy about it.”

Of course, the madam wouldn’t be pleased. She hadn’t been pleased when Lizzie had been born either. Or Stella, for that matter. Most men didn’t want to have relations with a pregnant doxy. And once the child was born … well, a brothel was no place for a squalling baby. Men didn’t care for that sort of thing either.

The serving girl returned with their meals, both rather meager portions. Lizzie scanned the plates sitting before the other patrons. “Why are our meals so much smaller than everyone else’s?” she asked the waitress.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the girl responded. Setting the bill on the table, she walked away.

Stella removed her gloves and set them in her lap then took a bite of her beef. “I think The Tea Room doesn’t appreciate us being here.”

At least their food smelled delicious. “We should eat slowly to annoy them,” Lizzie suggested as she, too, pulled off her gloves.

“They aren’t worth my time.” Stella chewed another bite. “Besides, I’m hungry.”

Lizzie ate her chicken stew, savoring the rich flavor.

“I still say you should stop worrying about working. Your aunt’s desire to find you a husband is a blessing.”

Lizzie inhaled, ready to scoff at the mere suggestion, and a morsel of dumpling caught in her throat. She coughed and drank several swallows of coffee. “A blessing?” she finally croaked out.

“You won’t have to tolerate your aunt’s disapproval anymore.”

No, but she’d have a husband to contend with who her dear aunt had handpicked. She had no doubt he’d be someone her aunt chose because of his ability to torture her for the rest of her life.

“I bet Helen wouldn’t mind a husband about now.” Stella snorted. “Hell, I don’t think I’d mind one too much either. Someone to care for me, set me up in a fine house, servants catering to my every whim …”

“Stella. Stop. You know how I feel about marriage.”

Stella shrugged. “Marrying might not be as bad as you think. With the right person, you might be happy. You should be looking for the right man instead of a job.”

Like Lizzie’s mother had found the right man? She’d walked away from her family because she’d loved a man they didn’t approve of, only to have her new beloved husband abuse her. Her prideful family wouldn’t take her back. Only Madame Maude had offered her shelter and protection.

That man … her father … had turned out to be her mother’s downfall. Byron Greeley’s face flashed before her mind’s eye. Handsome as sin, he’d, too, be one who could lead a woman astray if she let him.

Stella leaned back slightly, and Lizzie caught the barest shadow beneath Stella’s jaw. Her stiff collar didn’t quite hide the bruise.

“Is that a new dress?” Lizzie asked. Stella rarely wore a gown with a high neck like the one she wore today.

“Borrowed.”

“For what purpose?” Lizzie reached forward, intent on moving the collar aside for a better look.

Stella shied away. “It’s time I got back.” Placing her napkin on the table, she rose and tugged on her gloves. “Thank you for lunch.”

“Wait.” Lizzie hurried to pay for their meal, leaving the necessary coins on the table, and rushed after Stella, catching up to her on the sidewalk. She grasped Stella’s arm to stop her. “Let me see your neck.”

“Lizzie, it’s nothing.”

“Then let me see.” Lizzie pulled away the material hiding the shadow she’d seen and exposed several dark bruises on the side of Stella’s throat, the size and shape of a man’s fingers. An ache filled Lizzie’s chest. “What happened?”

Stella maintained her silence, but she didn’t have to speak. Lizzie knew. Some of the men who visited the brothel liked to be rough with the girls, sometimes too rough. Her mother had tried to defend one of the prostitutes from such a man and died for her efforts. The man had been charged with murder and imprisoned, but that hadn’t brought her mother back.

“Lizzie—”

“You need to leave Maude’s House.”

“I can’t.” Stella began to walk away. “I’ve nowhere else to go.”

Lizzie dug into her reticule. “Let me give you what money I have.”

“No, it won’t be enough. Besides, I know how much you want to get away from your aunt.”

Her chicken stew sat like a lump in her stomach. The things she’d complained about seemed so petty in light of what Stella endured every day. “Stella, please don’t leave like this.”

Stella slowed to a stop. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate the fine lunch you bought me.” She took one of Lizzie’s hands and held it in her own. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Lizzie offered up a weak smile. “Maybe I should be looking for employment for both of us.”

“If you think you’re having trouble finding a job because of your aunt’s gossip about your past, how do you think an actual prostitute would do?” Stella looked Lizzie in the eye. “I’ll manage. I always do.”

“Yes, you always do.” Stella was strong and resilient. She had to remind herself of that every time Stella had to go back to Maude’s House.

Stella released Lizzie’s hand. “Now be off with you. Find that job you crave so much.” With that, Stella walked away, her head held high and determination in her stride.

Lizzie watched her go, the lump in her stomach solidifying into stone. Someday she would free Stella from that place. She could only hope she would find a way to do so before it was too late.

“Miss Teague?”

Lizzie turned at the familiar male voice, the same voice she’d been hearing inside her head for the last week. “Mr. Greeley.”

Eldon Teague’s niece was even more beautiful than he remembered. He’d recognized her glorious red hair from the back, and now that she faced him, he found himself struck dumb. Those bright blue eyes stupefied him into silence, and the surety of love at first sight hit him full force once again.

“My name is actually Miss Finn. Miss Lizzie Finn,” she explained, then waited as he stared.

Lizzie. Lizzie Finn.

“Mr. Greeley?” she asked, her tone an enticing purr that stirred his senses and muddled his brain.

He cleared his throat and mentally shook himself. He had matters to discuss. “Li—Miss Finn. I must apologize for approaching you this way.” As inappropriate as it was for a man to call out to a lady in the street, he was desperate. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. To invite you on a tour of my workshop.” As insane as it was, the idea of asking her for help in his case against Teague continued to roll around in his head. If she could see his side of things, perhaps meet the people who depended on him, maybe she would listen to his pleas.

“Why would I want to tour your workshop?”

Good question.

Her eyes lit up. “Unless, you’d like to offer me a job.”

“A job,” he laughed. As if a member of the Teague family would stoop so low as to work for him.

Miss Finn didn’t appear to be amused.

“You’re seeking employment?”

Her chin lifted a degree. “I am.”

“What does your uncle think of that?” Very few women of her station worked outside the home, and those who did certainly didn’t do menial labor.

She stared him straight in the eye. “He doesn’t need to know.”

A secret from her uncle. Curious. “Let’s talk more when I give you the tour. For now, I suppose you should catch up with your chaperone.” He gestured toward the woman Miss Finn had been talking to a few moments ago who was now already two full blocks away. Surprising she would leave her charge so far behind.

“No need. I’d like to take this tour now if you’re available.” Miss Finn scanned up and down the street. “How far away is your business?”

“Not far. But what of your companion?”

“She won’t mind.”

He’d best tread carefully. It was one thing to want revenge on her uncle, and quite another to damage this girl’s reputation. “I couldn’t in all good conscience …”

Her delicate features scrunched in a look of annoyance. “She’s not my chaperone. She’s a friend.”

Ah. Traveling the streets unchaperoned. A faux pas for a lady. Or so he assumed. Times were slowly changing, with more working women and more demand for women’s rights. And why not? Why shouldn’t women rise to their full potential? Both his mother and his sister were intelligent and creative, and they worked as hard as any man.

“Do you still want to give me that tour, or shall I be on my way?”

“By all means, the tour.” He directed her due east. “This way.”

Together they strolled down the street, the loamy scent of autumn filling the air.

“Did you tell your uncle about how you … found me?” he asked. The question had been on his mind for too long.

“Yes, I did.”

Of course she had. “I’m surprised I haven’t been visited by the police.”

Miss Finn stayed silent for a full minute before she admitted, “I asked my uncle not to involve the authorities.”

“Why?” Did some part of her believe he’d been taken advantage of by her uncle? He could hope.

Miss Finn’s cheeks pinkened. “You didn’t take anything.”

Her words didn’t explain the flush to her face, and his blood heated in response. “Thank you.” For whatever her reasons.

They approached the stoop that led to Greeley & Company. Although he’d imagined bringing her to this very place over the last week, he’d never actually believed he’d succeed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep my grievance with your uncle a secret.”

Her eyebrows drew low. “No one in your workshop knows?”

He shook his head. With any luck, his employees, parents, and sister would never have to know.

“Very well.”

He led her inside, past Dollenberg’s dry goods emporium on the first level and to the stairs. “Greeley & Company is up two floors.” As they climbed the steps, he couldn’t help but ask, “You’re really looking for a job?”

Miss Finn nodded, and a few loose tresses brushed against her cheek.

He itched to touch a stray lock, to feel its softness, but he held the impulse in check. “What sort of employment are you hoping to find?”

She lifted her slender shoulders in a shrug. “Anything.” She held up her hand. “Within reason,” she amended.

When they reached the third floor, he stopped and scanned the many tables and all his employees hard at work. “We’re known for our creation of ladies’ accoutrements.” He pointed to the right. “Here we make reticules, and just beyond is our milliner.” Workers glanced curiously at Miss Finn but largely kept to their tasks. As usual, the room hummed with the sound of sewing machines, laughter, and conversation.

A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he stepped toward the middle of the large open workroom. His family had started this business two generations ago, with only three employees and a determination to succeed. Byron gestured toward a few tables near his office. “We also manufacture gloves and lastly …”—he walked toward the back of the room—“hosiery.”

“Impressive.”

That one word brought a smile to his face. Yes, impressive. Which brought him to his purpose for bringing Miss Finn here—to keep this business impressive. “Let me introduce you to a few people.” He directed her closer to the hosiery-making area, and one of the kindest people he knew. “Miss Finn, this is Ruby, my sister. She’s in charge of embroidery, and a fine job she does at it too.” He scanned the floor and chairs. “Where are your boys?”

“The water closet,” she replied. Ruby sat at her usual table, a needle in hand. She smiled at Miss Finn. “Nice to meet you. It’s so rare to have visitors.” Her sparkling eyes turned to Byron. “Will we see more of Miss Finn in the future?”

“Perhaps. Miss Finn is seeking employment.”

“Miss Finn? Work here?” Ruby’s gaze swept over Miss Finn’s dark-blue day dress, its quality that which only the well-off could afford.

Miss Finn’s face pinkened once more. “My aunt purchases my clothing, and her wealth is not mine.” She glanced at Byron, her shoulders back and her spine straight. “I wish to be an independent woman.”

Surprising—a woman who wanted to strike out on her own. The way she boldly stated that fact ... Quite refreshing.

“You don’t want a husband, a family?” Ruby asked, her eyes wide.

Byron turned his attention to Miss Finn. She hadn’t said that exactly. Surely, she didn’t mean—

“No, I don’t see myself ever getting married.”

Byron tensed. “Never. Why not?” He’d only just met Miss Finn, and his hopes of a future with her would be dashed already? How could someone so young make a decision of that magnitude with such certainty? Who was to say she wouldn’t find a man who would care for her and make her happy? Who was to say she hadn’t already met that man?

She smiled, the look friendly but not genuine. “I have my reasons.”

Ruby opened her mouth, no doubt to argue further, but he quickly cut her off with a subtle shake of his head. No sense in arguing the matter at this point in time. “My apologies. We shouldn’t pry.” He waved Miss Finn forward. “Come to my office, and we’ll discuss what you might do here.”

They said their goodbyes to Ruby and traveled the short distance to his small office. Inside, he offered her a chair then took a seat at his desk. Time to negotiate. “I have a proposition for you to consider.”

Those mesmerizing eyes gazed intently into his. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll give you a job in my shop if you do something for me.” No matter her skills or the lack thereof, he would find her a job of some sort if she agreed.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What is this something you’d have me do?”

“I want you to help me prove your uncle committed forgery on my loan agreement.” Once the words were out, he almost couldn’t believe he’d said them. Would she agree to this? How badly did she want employment?

Miss Finn jumped to her feet. “My uncle is innocent.”

“Then prove it to me.”

Her brow creased.

He leaned back in his chair, giving her time and space. If he could only get her to agree. “Talk to him, go through his things, question his colleagues. Do whatever you can to uncover any clues about what may have happened to my loan agreement, and if nothing can be found, so be it.”

“What exactly would I be looking for in my search?”

“The original loan paperwork, or any letters or documents that might indicate why he changed the agreement. Perhaps a ledger that shows him diverting money from the bank.”

Lizzie gasped. “Diverting money?”

“He’s raised the amount I have to pay back. I have to wonder what he’ll do with the additional money he’ll get. I have my doubts it will go to the bank.”

Lizzie frowned and rested her hands on her hips. “If I find nothing, you’ll take me at my word?”

“Not exactly. You’ll need to report back to me on what you’ve done to investigate the matter.” Byron stared at the beauty before him, the angel he hoped she’d become to him in this case. He supposed she could lie, but if she was indeed true to her word, he’d gain a valuable ally. At this point, he’d take the risk.

She hesitated a moment before giving a quick nod. “Then yes, I agree to your terms.”

Renewed hope flared bright. These past weeks, he’d had no luck improving his situation on his own, but perhaps now something would come to light, with the help of Lizzie Finn.