Loving Lizzie Finn

10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

B yron returned to the workshop, his thoughts still on Lizzie. Seeing her so upset had torn him up inside. To find out her uncle might be her father, and then to have to go home and face him … What he wouldn’t give to be able to whisk her away from that fate and hold her in his arms until she smiled again.

Ruby rose from her seat at the worktable and followed him to his office. “Where did you go so suddenly?”

“I went to see Lizzie,” he muttered as he dropped into the chair behind his desk. How could he better protect her?

“That … that woman who came get you. Who was she?”

Woman? Ah, Stella. “A friend of Lizzie’s.”

“How is that possible?” Ruby murmured as if to herself. “How do they know one another?”

Byron turned his full attention to Ruby. “Why do you ask?”

Ruby glanced out the door. “Do you know she’s a prostitute?”

“What makes you think that?” Stella hadn’t dressed all that differently than any other woman.

“Charles, our delivery man, happened to be in the workshop when she arrived, and the look on his face when he saw her … I pried the information from him.” She shook her head. “He must be paid fairly well if he can visit a brothel now and again.” Ruby waved the notion away. “So how is Lizzie friends with her?”

Damn. His sister was way too perceptive. “I’m not at liberty to say.” Then again, if he planned to marry Lizzie, his sister would find out the truth eventually. Few secrets could be kept indefinitely.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Lizzie isn’t … she couldn’t be … a prostitute too?”

“No, I can assure you she isn’t.”

“Then how is she friends with one?”

“You could say they’re childhood friends.” Which was true, according to Stella. What would Ruby think if she knew the whole truth? She’d come to know Lizzie, and she liked her as a person, or she wouldn’t have encouraged him to pursue her. Should he test the waters? How much would Lizzie’s past matter to Ruby and his parents?

“Childhood friends. I see.”

Byron braced himself. “What would you say if I told you that while Lizzie has never been a prostitute, she spent much of her childhood in a brothel?”

An expression of shock swept over Ruby’s features. “A child in a brothel? Was her mother …?”

Byron nodded, and Ruby sank into the chair beside his desk, a stunned look on her face.

“You and I both know Lizzie and the type of person she is. Where she grew up doesn’t matter. She’s a kind person who’s strong and brave, and I mean to make her my wife.”

Ruby’s mouth dropped open. “Has she agreed to marry you?”

“Not yet.”

His sister blew out a breath. “Well, I agree with you. I like Lizzie, and her past doesn’t bother me. However, I don’t know how our parents will react to the news, especially Mother.”

“Maybe if they get to know her first …”

“Perhaps. We could invite her to a family dinner.”

A good idea. Unfortunately, Teague probably had someone watching the house. “Now isn’t the best time for that.”

“Why?”

“I’m at odds with Lizzie’s uncle, and he wants me to stay far away from her.”

“At odds? In what way?”

Byron rubbed the back of his neck. If his family found out about Teague’s treachery against them, would that be one more reason to oppose his marriage to Lizzie?

He waved away her questions. None of this mattered at the moment. What mattered most was Lizzie. “I want to marry her as soon as possible.”

Ruby gasped. “She isn’t with child, is she?”

“Ruby!” How could she think such a thing? Did she honestly believe he’d put a woman in that situation?

Ruby crossed her arms over her chest. “Then out with it. What on earth are you muttering about?”

“Her aunt and uncle are forcing her to marry a stranger.”

“Why?”

“Her aunt wants to torture her, and her uncle … he wants to keep us apart. If I marry Lizzie now—”

“Her uncle might retaliate.”

“He might, but Lizzie wouldn’t have to marry someone of their choosing.” If her uncle decided to retaliate, so be it. He had a feeling her uncle would come after him no matter what happened between him and Lizzie. If only he had a way to stop him. Short of searching the bank, he likely wouldn’t find any evidence against the man.

“Are you sure marrying her is the right thing to do? Will you be happy, and will she?”

“I’ve known I wanted to marry her almost since the moment we met, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she’s happy.” Their shared kisses at the ball came to mind. “She seems to be fond of me. It’s the idea of marriage that bothers her. I’ll to prove to her that choosing a life with me will be something she’ll never regret.” First, he had to convince her to take that leap of faith.

Confusion still rattled around in Lizzie’s brain when she returned home. Odd that soon she’d no longer call this place home. Whether she was forced to marry, or she found some way to escape that fate, she’d have to leave this house. She stopped just outside her uncle’s study. She hadn’t even realized her feet had carried her there.

He sat at his desk, his head bowed over a stack of papers. Her stomach clenched. Was Eldon Teague her father? Was that the true reason he’d brought her home to live with him?

Lizzie picked at a cuff of her dress. Should she ask him? Could she be that bold?

Without an answer firmly in her head, approached his desk. She was midway across the room when he noticed her. “Do you need something from me, Lizzie?”

The question she most wanted to ask caught in her throat. “Is Declan Finn my father?” she found herself asking instead.

Her uncle pinned her with a questioning gaze. “Your mother was married to him. Who else would it be?”

Who else indeed. Had she expected him to say something else? In truth, he may not be her father, but even if he was, if he hadn’t revealed that fact in all these years, why would he admit to anything today?

He sat back in his chair. “Why are you asking about your father all of a sudden?”

Her pulse faltered. A valid question. She’d best not bring up her visit to Maude’s House. “Be-being forced to marry has brought to mind thoughts of a father giving away a bride.” She mentally cringed at her lame excuse.

Her uncle’s expression became even more perplexed. “You would want Declan Finn to give you away at the wedding?”

“No.” She couldn’t even imagine such a thing. “Still, sometimes I wonder where I came from. I’ve never met the man. I’m curious if I’m like him in some ways.”

Uncle Eldon grunted. “You’re nothing like Finn.”

“That’s a relief.” She edged toward the door, ready to escape.

“Have you resigned yourself to getting married then?” her uncle asked.

She huffed a harsh laugh. “No, not at all. If you care for my happiness, you won’t force me to marry.”

“We’re finding you a husband for your own good, Lizzie.”

“Are you?” she scoffed as she continued toward the door. “For my own good,” she muttered. “Then you don’t know me at all.”

She slipped away from the study and heard voices as she passed by the parlor. Lizzie approached the doorway. Aunt Margaret was having tea with her usual group of friends, women who served with her on various committees and supported a variety of causes. An idea dawned. These women and her aunt were part of the Female Moral Reform Society, a group that fought against prostitution. Could they help Effie and Stella?

She studied the group of well-dressed ladies, her gaze stopping on her aunt. Aunt Margaret was well aware of the existence of Maude’s House. She’d known where Lizzie and her mother had lived. So why hadn’t she attempted to shut down that brothel? For her, it would have been a satisfying victory over her sister.

Maybe Uncle Eldon had prevented her from touching the place. In fact, he still frequented Maude’s House. He likely controlled which brothels his wife targeted. Did he have that same control over the other ladies? Even if he did, maybe they could still help her rescue just two women.

She grimaced. Of course, asking for their help would probably be a painful process. Her aunt had seen to it that everyone in her circle knew of Lizzie’s past so that she would appear the savior of her pitiful niece. But Lizzie didn’t know any other Moral Reform members, so what choice did she have? Stella and Effie were worth a few uncomfortable minutes.

Lizzie stepped into the room. All eyes turned to her, and the conversation stopped. She took a deep breath. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Teague’s niece, Miss Lizzie Finn. I don’t mean to interrupt your chat, but I have a question I’d like to pose to you.”

Aunt Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing, Lizzie? Leave at once.”

“I’d like to help two prostitutes start a new life. I understand that you ladies are part of the Moral Reform Society, and—”

“Lizzie!” Her aunt stood, marched toward her, and gripped her arm, escorting Lizzie from the room and into the hall.

“Aunt, I—”

“The prostitutes you speak of are from Maude’s House?” her aunt hissed.

“Yes.”

Her aunt smiled with a derisive twitch of her lips. “Personally, I’d like to see that whorehouse burned to the ground, but it’s untouchable. That brothel is protected as if it’s some kind of blasted shrine.” Aunt Margaret gave her a slight push down the hallway. “Don’t bother these women. Instead, return to your room and prepare to entertain your betrothed. He’ll be joining us for dinner.”

Lizzie tensed, and her stomach dropped to the floor. “Who is my betrothed?” Who had her aunt chosen?

Her aunt’s lips curved into a smile again, this one as unpleasant as the last. “I’ll leave his identity a surprise, something for you to look forward to.”

Someone quietly cleared her throat. She and her aunt turned toward the noise, and one of her aunt’s friends left the parlor and entered the hall. “I’m afraid I must be going. Thank you for the tea.”

“Ah yes. Let’s meet again soon,” her aunt said in a cheerful voice.

As the woman headed for the door, Aunt Margaret made her way back to the parlor, tossing over her shoulder, “Lizzie, go to your room.”

The moment her aunt disappeared through the doorway, her aunt’s friend looked back at Lizzie and motioned her closer. Glancing at the parlor door, Lizzie closed the distance between them as the woman pulled a small case from her chatelaine bag. The woman opened it and handed Lizzie a card. “You can come to me to discuss the rescue of those prostitutes.”

With that, the woman left. Lizzie stared down at the card in her hands. Printed on the front was a name, an address, and a day of the week. Josephine Hoffmeister took callers on Tuesdays. Thankfully, there was hope for Effie and Stella. If only she could say the same for herself. Dread prickled her skin at the thought of the evening to come.

Lizzie slowly approached the dining room. For Byron’s sake, she would appease her uncle and attend dinner with the suitor her aunt had chosen, whomever he may be. Her aunt was already seated, as was the man in question, his back to Lizzie. “Where is Uncle Eldon?” she asked.

Her aunt’s attention darted to Lizzie. “Ah, there you are, Lizzie. Your uncle had a prior engagement that couldn’t be avoided.”

Lizzie’s suitor rose to his feet and faced her. The hair at the back of her head prickled and rose at the sight him, her memory of his roaming hands and how he’d held her too close while they’d danced vivid in her mind.

“You remember Mr. Culpepper, don’t you?” her aunt asked.

“I do.” How could she forget such a man? Despite his dashing good looks, he had the personality of a lecher and a reputation as a playboy. From what she’d heard, his family had gained their fortune by building and operating textile mills. Those mills were no longer as lucrative as in years past, but the family still spent lavishly, depleting their wealth. No doubt, her dowry would help with that.

Mr. Culpepper smirked. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Finn.”

She wished she could say the same.

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” her aunt advised.

Lizzie took a seat, and the meal progressed in agonizing minutes of mundane conversation, Lizzie idly pushing her meal around on her plate with a fork, and secret lusty glances from her husband-to-be.

When dinner finally ended, her aunt suggested they adjourn to the petit salon. As soon as Lizzie entered the room, memories of when she’d last been in here clouded her vision—Byron so close she could feel his body heat, his firm lips on hers, and her heart beating so fast she’d thought she might faint dead away.

She thrust those thoughts aside and glanced at Mr. Culpepper. Oh, how she wished she was with Byron instead. Not that she’d agree to marry him either … at least not yet. Her aunt sat in a chair and gestured for Lizzie to sit on the settee. When she did, Mr. Culpepper sank onto the cushion next to her. Lizzie smiled weakly and pretended to adjust her skirt in order to slide a bit farther away from him.

Unfortunately, he wasted no time in closing the distance between them. Lizzie looked at her aunt, who was busy instructing the servant to pour them after-dinner drinks.

When Mr. Culpepper “casually” rested his hand next to Lizzie’s thigh, she jumped up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a headache.” She rubbed her temple for good measure and stepped toward the door.

Her aunt quickly blocked her way. “No need to leave. I’ll fetch a tincture for you.”

“No, Aunt, I—”

Her aunt pointed toward the settee. “Sit. I’ll return shortly.” Her aunt’s hard stare dared her to argue in front of their guest. Fine. She would cooperate. She wouldn’t give her aunt a reason to complain to Uncle Eldon about her reluctance to marry, no matter how repulsive she found her groom.

Aunt Margaret waited until Lizzie returned to her seat and the maid had served them drinks before she left the room, ushering out the maid with her and shutting the door behind them.

Lizzie set aside the sherry she’d been given and eyed the man beside her. If only she could convince him he didn’t desire a marriage with her. Then again, he was a playboy. Maybe he didn’t need much convincing. She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised you want to marry me.”

“My parents want me to marry you,” he clarified, stretching his arm along the top of the settee behind her.

She sat forward a bit. “I assume they know of my past?”

“They do. All they care about is your dowry and a family connection to your uncle,” he admitted matter-of-factly before taking a drink of his brandy.

So very forthright. She supposed that could be considered a good quality. “My dowry, how much will your family get?”

He leaned closer. “Your uncle is being very generous. I suppose he wants you to live in a manner befitting you. Your aunt has said he’ll also be investing in our business ventures.”

Would he? Her uncle wasn’t the type of businessman who made investments without careful consideration, and the Culpepper factories were failing. “Have you spoken with my uncle?”

He swallowed the rest of his brandy and set aside his glass. “Briefly, at your ball.”

Did Uncle Eldon know her aunt was making these promises? For that matter, did he even know who her aunt had chosen for this marriage? A spark of hope ignited in her chest. Perhaps her uncle wouldn’t agree to their terms.

Mr. Culpepper grabbed her chin and turned her face toward his, and a jolt of panic stole her breath.

“Is there a reason you’re not looking at me?” he asked.

A lump formed in her throat, and a chill crept down her spine. Somehow, she’d foolishly hoped avoiding his gaze would discourage him from making any advances. She made a move to rise, but he grasped her arm and held her in place.

She tried and failed to tug herself free. “Release me.”

“You know, your past doesn’t bother me in the least. In fact”—he brushed back a few stray strands of her hair, his fingers grazing her ear—“I think I’m going to enjoy being married to you.”

She shuddered and attempted to rise again, but his grip tightened. He tossed her back onto the settee and leaned over her. Lizzie shoved against his chest. “My aunt should be back any minute.”

Mr. Culpepper smirked. “Do you think I’d dare do this without her permission?”

Her insides roiled. Her aunt had planned this? She pushed harder, and he pulled her to him. His lips pressed against her neck.

“Let go of me!” She tried to rake her nails over his face, but he caught her wrists before she could touch him. She kicked and squirmed as he began yanking up her skirts. “No! Stop!”

The door to the room banged open, and Mr. Culpepper gazed in that direction. Uncle Eldon stood in the doorway, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. He marched across the room. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from her!”

Mr. Culpepper jumped to his feet and faced her uncle. Her limbs shaking, she stood as well.

“Your wife said we wouldn’t be interrupted,” Mr. Culpepper said lamely.

Her uncle’s scowl darkened. He ushered Lizzie away from Mr. Culpepper just as her aunt made her appearance in the doorway, a bottle of laudanum in her hand. “You’re home early.”

“What is going on here? Why is Lizzie unchaperoned?”

Aunt Margaret lifted the bottle in her hand. “Lizzie has a headache, so I went to fetch a tincture for her.”

Uncle Eldon closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he pointed at Mr. Culpepper. “You … get out! You’re not welcome in my home.”

“Don’t talk to him like that. H-he’s an invited guest,” her aunt sputtered.

Mr. Culpepper merely headed for the door. Her aunt made a move to follow him.

“Margaret! Stay,” her uncle barked out.

When her aunt stopped, he approached her. “What is the meaning of this?”

Aunt Margaret faced him. “I don’t know what you mean?”

Her nerves still frazzled, Lizzie wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself. What might have happened if her uncle hadn’t intervened when he had?

“You arranged this meeting without my knowledge, and then you were going to let him …” Uncle’s Teague’s face turned a mottled shade of red.

“I was going to do no such thing. I stepped out for a moment—”

“Margaret, you are trying my patience.”

“You agreed that I could choose Lizzie’s future husband, and I have. Now you’ve kicked him out of our house.”

“He was molesting Lizzie!”

“They’ll be married soon anyway. What difference does it make?”

“Culpepper and his family aren’t good enough for Lizzie. Now that I see the kind of husband you’ve chosen, I’ll provide guidance on future suitors.”

Lizzie tried to calm her racing pulse and started for the door. With any luck, she’d never have to see Mr. Culpepper again.

“Lizzie, are you all right?” her uncle asked as she passed by.

She gave a nod despite the lingering tremors she couldn’t suppress. “I’d like to go to my room.” Without waiting for a response, she slipped out the door and made her way to her bedroom. Once again, she longed for Byron’s reassuring arms round her. No one could comfort her like he could. She didn’t want to ponder the reason why. Not now. Her fear of the future would only grow if she did. She’d decided long ago to never rely on a man, to never let a man lead her astray. And she would hold true to her convictions, no matter if her heart said otherwise.