Loving Lizzie Finn

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

L izzie entered Maude’s House, a place she hadn’t set foot in for five years. When she’d left at fourteen, she’d vowed never to come back. If Stella hadn’t sent her an urgent message, she wouldn’t be here now.

She looked around the main parlor at the “guests” mingling with the “hostesses.” The interior hadn’t changed much, not that she’d expected it would. Madam Maude didn’t believe in spending money on something that wasn’t broken. Which meant the rooms portrayed a slightly worn luxury. Still, customers didn’t mind. They didn’t come to Maude’s House for the setting. They came to satisfy their carnal desires.

A young man approached her, a sparkle in his eye. “My, my, aren’t you a pretty one.”

“Thank you, but I don’t work here. Viola! Beatrice!” she called out, waving the two women closer before turning her attention back to the customer. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the company of my two friends.” Friends might be an exaggeration. Acquaintances would be more apt. Still, she knew them both to be competitive in nature, both eager to be chosen by the most customers in a day.

The two came over, and each took hold of one of the man’s arms, drawing him away from Lizzie. Although he’d approached her, he’d likely not complain.

“Lizzie.” Stella smiled and met her in the parlor. “Let’s visit in my room.” She led the way up the stairs and down the hall. Once inside her bedroom, Stella sat in a chair before a dressing table.

Lizzie joined her in a nearby chair. “So what did you need to tell me?”

“There was a man who stopped by yesterday asking questions about your uncle.”

“What kind of questions?”

“He wanted to know if your uncle visits Maude’s House often.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Is Uncle Eldon a patron?”

Stella cringed. She’d been Lizzie’s friend for years. She knew how much Lizzie respected her uncle. When Lizzie was young, her uncle had come by often to talk to her mother. He’d repeatedly offered to take them away from Maude’s House. She’d never understood why her mother refused his offer. “I’d assumed he stopped visiting Maude’s after my mother died and I started living with him.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

Her shoulders sagged. Yet another truth about her uncle she didn’t want to hear. “Do you have any idea who the man asking about my uncle was?”

“I don’t, but you might.”

“What do you mean? Did you get his name?”

Stella shook her head. “No, and I didn’t remember where I’d seen him at first, but it came to me last night.” She leaned closer. “The day you took me to lunch for my birthday, I happened to look back as I was walking away, and I saw you talking with him.”

She thought back to that day. Byron? Why had he come to Maude’s House? How did he know her uncle visited this brothel? Perhaps he’d followed him. Or he could have seen Uncle Eldon by coincidence. Her heart beat dully in her chest. Did Byron frequent brothels? She’d believed him to be a better man than that.

She sucked in a breath as another thought dawned. When Byron stopped by, he’d asked about her uncle. What had he learned? Perhaps only that her uncle was a customer now, but what about the past? Had he discovered that her mother had worked at Maude’s House? That she’d lived with her mother in a brothel? No, stop. You’re overthinking things. “Who did this man speak to?”

“Effie.”

Lizzie jumped to her feet. “I need to talk to her.”

“Why? Who was the man asking all of those questions?” Stella asked as she followed Lizzie out the door and down the hall toward Effie’s room.

“He’s … he’s my employer.” And someone she’d rather never learn of her past. She knocked on Effie’s door.

When the older woman swung the door open, she smelled of stale alcohol. Effie cocked her head to the side and grinned. “Lizzie! You’re back!”

“Not back. Simply visiting.” Lizzie smiled at the woman who had always been kind to her. “How have you been, Effie?”

The woman’s joyful expression faded. “Ah, well, I’m still here.”

Poor Effie. She suffered the fate of any soiled dove who had managed to survive long enough. While fewer visitors were interested in her, the madam pressured her into either enticing more customers or leaving, but where could she go? She wished she had the resources to help her.

Effie’s grin reappeared. “But I have whiskey! Come in. Come in.”

Effie ushered them inside then hurried to pick up items of clothing strewn about the room, tossing them into a pile. She pulled the chair away from her dressing table and dragged another from the corner. “Sit. Would you like a drink?”

Lizzie took a seat. “No, thank you.”

“None for me,” Stella said, taking the other chair while Effie sat on her bed.

“I came to ask you about the man who questioned you yesterday.”

Effie nodded.

Lizzie idly picked at her nails, her nerves getting the best of her. “What exactly did you say to that man?”

“He was most interested in Mr. Teague.”

“What did you tell him about my uncle?”

Effie shrugged. “The truth. Any man who comes a brothel shouldn’t be embarrassed if it becomes known.”

Lizzie often felt the same. Why should the prostitutes shoulder all the shame? If customers had the courage to step through the doors of a brothel, they should have the guts to stand tall to any slander their visit may cause.

“By any chance, did the topic of me or my mother come up?”

“Oh, hmm.” Effie’s face scrunched, and she tapped her chin. “I may have mentioned your mother since Mr. Teague had always visited her in the past.”

“What about me?” Lizzie held her breath. Please say you didn’t tell Byron about my past.

“Not by name, at least that I recall.”

“You told him my mother had a daughter?”

“I believe I did.”

Lizzie cringed inwardly, and her stomach sank. “Does he know I went to live with my uncle?”

Effie’s face scrunched up again. “I don’t recall. By then I was getting sleepy, and Stella came by, and well …”

So how much did Byron know? Had he pieced together that she was the girl Effie mentioned? There was only one way to find out. Lizzie rose to her feet. “Thank you both for letting me know what happened yesterday.”

“You’re leaving already?” Stella asked.

“Yes. I have to find out what he knows.” Her chest constricted. For her own sanity, she needed to find out now. She absently said her goodbyes and headed out the door, her desperation to know urging her feet into motion. If Byron had learned of her past, his view of her would be tarnished. He’d probably fire her to put distance between her and his family. Everyone who discovered where she’d grown up ostracized her. After all, anyone who lived in a brothel must be of questionable character.

Why hadn’t she prepared herself for this? Had she been so na?ve to think Byron would never find out? Maybe she’d been wrong to keep her past a secret from him. Maybe she should have told him straight out. Perhaps then her chest wouldn’t ache so much because of the inevitable conversation to come.

In short order, she was at the threshold of Greeley & Company. She stepped inside the busy workshop and made her way to Byron’s office. At her first sight of him sitting behind his desk, her chest tightened even more. This might be the last time she would set foot in his business, the last time she’d talk with him.

She approached the doorway. He looked up from his work, and a bright smile warmed his features. An odd reaction if he knew her secret. Hope sprang to life. Maybe he didn’t know.

He rose to his feet and met her at the door. “Lizzie, what are you doing here?”

Should she bring up his brothel visit? The confident, sassy part of her knocked some sense into her head. She wasn’t ashamed of her upbringing. She’d done nothing wrong, and if he took offense because of where she’d been raised, that only showed the flaw in his character. Besides, he himself had visited the brothel. Had he been there solely to ask about her uncle or for pleasure as well? She raised her chin a notch. “I heard you visited Maude’s House.”

Byron’s eyes flared wide. He ushered her into his office and shut the door. “I followed your uncle there.” He raised one hand. “I swear I didn’t go of my own accord.”

“You were following my uncle?”

“I’m desperate. I was looking for something, anything, I could use against him.”

“And you found it,” she muttered, still a bit disappointed in her uncle.

“I did.” He frowned. “Well, maybe or maybe not. Does your aunt know he visits a brothel?”

“Likely not, but I don’t know for sure. I didn’t know he frequented the place.”

His brow furrowed. “How did you discover I went to Maude’s House?”

She should tell him the truth, that she used to live there and she was friends with some of the prostitutes. Instead she clung to the fantasy that he would never find out, that he would never treat her like a soiled woman. “What did you learn about my uncle?”

“He’s been a frequent customer at Maude’s House for years.” Byron moved toward his desk and cast a furtive glance her way. “Your uncle had a particular interest in one of the prostitutes who worked there years ago.”

She clasped her hands together and worried her lip. She knew full well who he was referring to, although the woman in question hadn’t been a prostitute.

“She had a child, and when the woman died, your uncle took the girl home.” Byron faced her, looking her straight in the eyes. “Are you that girl?”

Her breath caught in her chest. The moment she’d dreaded had come. She swallowed. “I am. But my mother wasn’t a prostitute.”

Confusion clouded Byron’s features. “The woman I talked to seemed to think she was, at least at first.”

No. That couldn’t be true. Well, perhaps it could, but she’d hoped …

Byron’s gaze softened. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

So, not only did he know she grew up in Maude’s House, he believed her mother had been a doxy. She straightened her spine, determined to keep her disappointment in check. “I understand if you no longer want me working for Greeley & Company.”

Byron’s confused expression returned. “Why wouldn’t I want you to work for me?”

“Now that you know where I grew up—”

“What does that matter?”

It took her a moment to comprehend what he’d said. “You don’t care?”

“You had no say in where you were born and raised.”

Did he not fully understand? “I was raised in a brothel. Doesn’t that change how you see me?”

He took a step toward her, a look of tenderness on his face. “I see you as a beautiful, courageous woman whom I’m lucky to know. That doesn’t change because of where you grew up.”

Had she heard him correctly? Very few people she knew held the same opinion. He smiled, and relief flooded through her, along with a healthy dose of respect and awe. Without much thought, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his cheek. This man was one of a kind.

He sucked in a sharp breath and quickly turned his head, brushing his lips over hers. The graze of his mouth sent a frisson of excitement from her chest to her limbs, and she stepped back. In the years she’d spent at Maude’s House, many men had tried to kiss her. Those rough, sloppy attempts had made her skin crawl. This kiss, however, had been anything but sloppy and rough. Her lips still tingled, and her heart pounded.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t seem to help myself,” Byron muttered as he raked his hand through his hair and strode toward his desk.

“It’s all right,” she assured him. In truth, she longed for another, God help her.

Byron’s face had turned a bright shade of red, and Lizzie smothered a smile. He was adorable and handsome all at the same time.

“So you know my uncle frequents a brothel. What do you plan to do with this information?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m not sure if blackmailing him with it will work. Does he care if people know? It might not be enough to sway him.”

Lizzie took a seat. “I searched my uncle’s study again. This time I looked for anything incriminating, even things that have nothing to do with the bank. I looked through papers associated with his investments. A little over three months ago, he became part owner of Howell & Harmon.”

“Your uncle said I backstabbed him. When I raised the prices of goods going to Howell & Harmon, how did it affect him?”

“When did you say your father took out the loan with my uncle?”

“Four months ago.”

Lizzie nodded. “If I were to guess … Perhaps my uncle offered lower prices to Howell & Harmon as part of the investment deal.”

“You might be right.”

No wonder her uncle was angry with Bryon, so much so he’d changed the Greeley & Company loan agreement. And warned her away from—she smothered a gasp—seeing Byron. She hadn’t thought about the possible repercussions when she’d marched over to Greeley & Company. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have stopped by your workshop. My uncle probably has someone watching this place.” Her eyes widened as an idea came to light. “I could tell him that I dropped in to pick up my wages.”

Byron stepped closer. “I’m not sorry you’re here. It’s good to see you.” He took her hands in his and leaned in even closer. “I’ve missed you.”

A shiver danced down her spine at the low rumble of his voice in her ear. To be honest, she was glad to see him too. Talking things through had worked out for the best. Not only had she laid to rest any worries she’d had about Byron going to a brothel, he’d proven himself to be a genuine friend who didn’t care about her past. Instead he valued her for who she was. Friend? Somehow, he felt like more than a friend. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid of the possibility of growing closer to a man. Not if that man was Byron.