Loving Lizzie Finn

11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

I n the late evening hours, Byron hurried down the empty streets toward Greeley & Company with Lizzie’s note still clutched in his hand. She needed to see him urgently, but she hadn’t said why.

Finally, he spotted her standing outside the door leading to Greeley & Company. The light from the streetlamp illuminated her troubled expression. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she appeared deep in thought.

“Lizzie,” he called out.

Her gaze flew to his, and she took a step toward him. “Byron.”

The misery in her voice had him hurrying to her side even faster.

“What happened? Have you been waiting long? Are you all right?” he asked as he reached her.

Her chin quivered, and she drew in a breath. “I’ve only been waiting a short time.”

His heart tore in two. He longed to drag her into his arms right here and now. Soon. He scanned the street then ushered her toward the door. “Let’s go inside.”

He unlocked the door, and they climbed the stairs to the workshop. As soon as they stepped inside, he wrapped his arms around her, and she hugged him back tightly. Her light floral scent enveloped him, and he yearned to hold her in his arms forever. He’d always protect her if she’d let him.

Lizzie dragged in another wavering breath. “I told myself I didn’t need to see you, that I could do as I always have and lick my wounds alone, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll come running whenever you need me. What’s wrong?”

“My aunt arranged for me to meet the man she’s chosen to be my husband.” She shuddered. “With my aunt’s blessing, he tried to”—she shuddered again—“consummate the marriage early.”

Byron tensed, and indignation flared. That bastard. “Your uncle allowed such a thing to happen?”

Lizzie shook her head. “He’s the one who intervened.” She sniffled. “Still, I was so scared.”

He muttered an oath and held her as close as he could without crushing her. “What’s this suitor’s name?” he growled.

“It doesn’t matter. My uncle sent him on his way. I won’t be marrying him.”

“Not good enough.” Byron’s jaw tightened. “He needs to be taught a lesson or two.”

“Perhaps, but not by you. I don’t want you to get into even more trouble because of me.” She clutched his coat when he attempted to pull away, his agitation making him restless.

“How have you caused me trouble?” As far as he was concerned, she brought him something to look forward to each day.

“My uncle is spiteful toward you partly because of your association with me.”

“Ah, well, he started out spiteful toward me because I changed the prices charged to Howell & Harmon. It had nothing to do with you.”

She groaned softly and stepped away from him, walking toward the worktable she’d shared with his sister. “My uncle, my uncle … Suddenly it feels strange to call him that. What if he’s actually my father?”

“Would that matter?”

“Uncle Eldon has always been the closest thing to a father in my life. I never knew Declan Finn, and given what I’d been told about him, I never had the desire to meet him.” She sat at the table and ran her hand over the stack of hosiery ready to be embroidered. “Now that I suspect he might not be my father after all, I find myself wanting to know who is.”

Her brow furrowed. “I thought of asking my uncle outright, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not that he would have revealed anything. As it was, when I asked him if Declan Finn was my father, he insisted that whatever my mother told me must be the truth.”

He took in her defeated posture and crouched down beside her. “Maybe he doesn’t know more than that.”

“Possibly.” She frowned. “Maybe I’ll never find out my father’s identity.”

Byron took her hands in his. “How about if I try to find Mr. Finn? He might know more about the situation.”

“Perhaps.” Lizzie blew out a breath. “Thank you.” She rose to her feet. “It’s late. I suppose I should be going. I’m sorry to make you leave your warm house at this time of day.”

“Nonsense. I’ll always help you in any way I can. I’m more worried about you. You shouldn’t be out alone at night, Lizzie.”

“I know, but I couldn’t stay in that house a moment longer.” Misery flitted across her features once more. “Sometimes I simply need to get away from my aunt, and my life.”

“If the need comes over you after dark, contact me, and I’ll try to meet you closer to your house. If you need to escape during the day …” An idea came to light. He fished inside his pocket and pulled out a key ring holding two keys. “It’s a fair walk, but you could go to our warehouse if you want to be alone to think or even work.”

Her blue eyes lit with gratitude. “I’d like that.”

“Very well.” He handed her the ring and told her the address then offered her his arm. “Come. I’ll walk with you back.”

She hesitated. “What if someone sees us together?”

“I don’t believe anyone was outside my home when I left. It might be late enough that whoever is following me has given up for the night. It’s probably the same at your house.”

“That could be.” She took hold of his arm. “I don’t believe anyone followed me either.”

They left the workroom and were soon heading back to Lizzie’s house. He’d rather not take her to a place where she suffered so much distress. He’d rather take her home with him to pamper and protect her, but that would have to wait. He just hoped it wouldn’t have to wait that long.

Mrs. Hoffmeister was perched on an ornate Chippendale chair when the butler ushered Lizzie into the parlor. As expected, the woman’s home was decorated lavishly with rich fabrics, intricate trim work, and gilded wainscoting. In fact, the ornamentation was quite similar to what Aunt Margaret preferred.

Mrs. Hoffmeister gestured toward the chair opposite her. “Please sit, Miss Finn.”

Lizzie crossed the room and sank onto the plush cushion. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

Mrs. Hoffmeister waved away Lizzie’s gratitude. “Of course. You seemed so earnest in wanting to help those women, and it appeared your aunt wasn’t willing to lend a hand.” She shook her head. “I never understood why your aunt is so hostile toward you. The way she talks about you …” Mrs. Hoffmeister released a sigh.

Lizzie’s cheeks heated.

“I understand that your mother was a prostitute, but she was also Mrs. Teague’s sister,” Mrs. Hoffmeister continued.

Lizzie’s face burned even more. Why was Mrs. Hoffmeister mentioning her aunt’s abuse? She’d thought Mrs. Hoffmeister and Aunt Margaret were friends.

As if she sensed Lizzie’s distress, Mrs. Hoffmeister directed her attention toward pouring two cups of coffee from the pot on the small table between them. “You mentioned that you wish to free two prostitutes?”

“Yes. How does that process work? Is there a place they can stay for a while until they’re ready to live on their own?” She’d heard about such refuges, but her knowledge was limited.

“Here. Have some coffee and cakes.” Mrs. Hoffmeister set a cup before Lizzie and nudged a plate of pastries in Lizzie’s direction. “Did I overhear you say these prostitutes were from Maude’s House?”

“You did.”

“Years ago, I discovered Maude’s House and mentioned it to our group as a brothel to be targeted, but your aunt had thought it was already being shut down and didn’t need our consideration.” Mrs. Hoffmeister took a sip of her coffee. “But yesterday, I heard your aunt say Maude’s House was protected like a shrine. Why would that be?” Mrs. Hoffmeister cleared her throat and drank another sip. “Your aunt mentioned that you lived in a brothel at one time. Was it Maude’s House? Do you know these prostitutes from there?”

“Yes, I do.” Lizzie stared the woman in the eyes, daring her to needle her about her past.

“Then it makes even less sense that your aunt would leave it be. Unless … it’s your uncle who wants that brothel to survive. It would be a sad irony if a husband frequented establishments his wife was determined to shut down.”

Lizzie stiffened, annoyance burning bright. She’d come for information she could use to help Stella and Effie, not to provide fodder to a gossipmonger. “I fear you’re jumping to conclusions.”

Mrs. Hoffmeister smiled then opened her mouth, but Lizzie held up a hand before the woman could speak.

“Were you sincere when you offered your assistance? If so, please provide me with the information I need. If not, I’d best be going.”

A mixture of emotions crossed Mrs. Hoffmeister’s face. Shock, indignation, and disappointment.

“The Moral Reform Society Sanctuary accepts women attempting to escape a life of prostitution. The women can temporarily live there while they learn skills that will help them find employment. In the meantime, they are well cared for.”

“Who runs this sanctuary?” Were they responsible people? Then again, could the sanctuary be any worse than a brothel?

“Moral Reform Society volunteers, along with hired help. The sanctuary runs off of donations made by Moral Reform Society members.”

“Do all Moral Reform members donate?” Even her aunt?

“Yes, although some seem more reluctant to part with their money than others.” Mrs. Hoffmeister smirked. “Your aunt in particular donates the least,” she said as if she’d sensed Lizzie’s thoughts.

Not surprising. Lizzie had always believed her aunt’s glee in shutting down brothels had been her way of showing disapproval for her deceased sister’s way of life and Lizzie’s upbringing. Her aunt most likely only donated to the sanctuary because the others did. Still, she was grateful the Moral Reform Society had a place that would care for Effie and Stella. A sense of relief washed over her. At last, she could help Stella and Effie escape Maude’s House.

Lizzie soon left Mrs. Hoffmeister home and walked the short distance to the store in which she’d met Byron not so long ago.

She glanced backward as she stepped inside, catching sight of the man who’d followed her. She’d seen the fellow on many occasions. He blended into the crowd. No doubt he’d been hired by her uncle to report back to him where she was going and who she was seeing.

While she didn’t mind him following her to her aunt’s friend’s house, he’d best not know about her next stop. As expected, her uncle’s hired man stayed outside the store where he wouldn’t be noticed quite so easily. Good. She made her way to the back of the shop. She perused the wares as if she were there to purchase something and came across a display of stockings she had embroidered. Pride welled in her chest. She’d heard they were selling well, and she worked on as many as she could in the privacy of her bedroom, sending them to Byron via messenger when they were ready. The fact that she was capable of earning her own money filled her with hope for the future. Perhaps one day she could escape her past and make a living for herself.

When it appeared all the shop clerks were busy, she slipped into the back and strode to the service door she’d investigated prior to this excursion. Escaping out the door, she headed toward Maude’s House. Now that she knew where Stella and Effie could go to start new lives, she wanted nothing more than to have them start those new lives now.

She entered Maude’s House and spotted Stella right away in the main salon. Excitement bubbled up. Finally, Stella could leave prostitution behind. She motioned Stella over. “Where’s Effie? I’d like to speak with the both of you.”

“She’s upstairs in her room.” Stella led the way to the attic.

Although servants typically shared their quarters two to a room, Effie had a small bedroom to herself. She lay reclined on her bed, filing her nails.

“I’m surprised to find you here,” Lizzie admitted, closing the door. “I had expected you would be working this time of day.”

Effie let out a laugh. “My threat to Madam Maude has worked rather well. She doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t spill her secrets.”

“Which you’ve already spilled to me, “ Lizzie reminded her. “If Maude ever finds out I know—”

“She won’t if you don’t tell her.”

“I won’t tell her. I’m just worried. The truth always has a way of coming out eventually.”

“Bah.” Effie waved away Lizzie’s concerns and continued to file her nails.

Then again, what did it matter? Effie would be leaving soon anyway. “I came by to tell you that I talked to a woman from the Female Moral Reform Society, and I found out where you can stay when you leave Maude’s House.” Lizzie smiled, giddy with her good news. “I can take you and Stella, and anyone else who wants to leave, to the location she gave me. We can go whenever you wish.”

“Who said I want to leave?” Effie scoffed. “Yes, I was almost forced out, but now I have it good.” She sat up in bed. “Stella, maybe you should go. Things have been tough for you with that Grantham fellow coming around so often.”

“Grantham?” Lizzie asked.

Effie nodded. “He’s the one who roughs her up.”

Lizzie grabbed Stella’s hand. “Oh, Stella. Let me take you to a place where you’ll be safe.”

“I don’t know.” Stella shook her head. “I don’t have any skills that I can use to get a job to support myself.”

“The Reform Society women will help you. They’ll teach you a trade,” Lizzie insisted.

“Even if they do, who will hire me? You said yourself how hard it was to find a job given your past, and you were never a prostitute. Imagine how difficult it will be for me.”

Lizzie squeezed Stella’s hand. “But I did find one, didn’t I?” Perhaps after Byron overcame his financial difficulties, he’d be willing to hire Stella too. “I’ll help you in any way I can. Leave Maude’s House.”

“What’s this talk about leaving?” Maude demanded as she opened the door. “You forget these walls are thin.”

Maude pointed at Lizzie. “You again. Get out. You’re not welcome here.”

“Not without Effie and Stella,” Lizzie vowed, raising her chin.

Maude scowled. “You can take Effie, but Stella stays.”

Indignation burned bright. Of course Madam Maude wouldn’t want one of her prized moneymakers to leave.

“You’ve lived here your entire life. What do you think you can do besides whoring?” Maude asked Stella. “This is all you know.”

“Stella, don’t listen to her,” Lizzie pleaded. “I promise you. You can survive outside of a brothel.”

Madam Maude seized Lizzie’s arm and dragged her toward the door. “Leave now, or I’ll have you escorted out.”

Lizzie planted her feet before Maude could shove her into the hallway. “Stella,” she implored.

A guilty expression settled over Stella’s features. “Lizzie, you should go. I’m not leaving.”

“No, Stella.” A lump formed in Lizzie’s throat.

Maude thrust Lizzie from the room, making her stumble. “Stella, you’re needed downstairs,” the madam called back as she propelled Lizzie forward to the stairs, her grip on Lizzie’s arm unyielding.

Fine. She’d do as Maude wanted, for now, but she wouldn’t give up on Stella, or Effie for that matter. She’d give them time to come to their senses, and then she’d whisk them away to safety.

Lizzie used one of Byron’s spare keys to open the warehouse door. She shivered and hurried inside, eager to get out of the early morning chill. She’d escaped the house before anyone would think to follow her. The walk had been long, but she relished the thought of seeing Byron again—she’d sent a message last night informing him that she would drop off her finished work and that she needed more to do.

She followed his directions and found a lantern and matches on a small table outside a door. After lighting the lantern and unlocking the door, she descended the stairs to the basement where Greeley & Company had their share of the six-story warehouse. The space below was crowded with crates and casks as well as paper-wrapped parcels. She wandered around as she waited. Byron had said she could come here if she wanted a place to herself to work.

Small windows high on the walls cast a dim light in the room. She peeked inside the containers. Cloth, buttons, feathers—presumably for hats—silk flowers, ribbon … and wire? She looked in another crate. Wool? In still another, she found material that wouldn’t be used for their usual products. Odd. She set her finished work on an old wooden desk off to the side and discovered an area filled with finished hats, reticules, and gloves. Had they surpassed their orders?

Footsteps on the stairs approached, and Byron came into view with a bundle in his arms. “Did you have any trouble finding the warehouse?”

She shook her head and smiled. His mere presence brightened the room, adding warmth to the otherwise stark space. “Your directions were quite good.”

He closed the distance between them and held out the bundle he’d brought. “Here are the materials you requested.”

“Ah yes.” She accepted the package. “I set the hosiery I’ve finished on the desk.” She scanned the crates around her. “I was looking at everything stored here, and I saw boxes of an unusual fabric, as well as wool and wire. What are those for?”

Byron stared in the direction of those boxes. “Before our hosiery machine broke, we’d planned to expand the products we offer. We were going to add chemises, corsets, and bustles.”

Her stomach twisted. When the hosiery machine broke, and they could find no bank willing to offer them a loan, her uncle had taken advantage, and now they were in even worse straits.

“I also noticed that there are quite a few finished products waiting to be delivered.”

Byron frowned, and his gaze dimmed. “They’re not waiting to be delivered. Some of our customers have cancelled their orders.”

“They have? Why?” she asked, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“They’ve heard that Greeley & Company is in trouble and have decided to get their products elsewhere.”

“How could they have heard?” Even his family didn’t know. She held back a gasp. Had Uncle Eldon spread the news? He’d told her he wouldn’t do anything more against Byron if she agreed to marry. “Were they long-standing customers?”

“Some of them.”

“How could they be so disloyal?” What had her uncle told them?

“I don’t blame them. They’re looking to the future. If Greeley & Company can’t overcome this crisis, they may not get the goods they need. It’s better for them if they make adjustments now.”

Her uncle had truly made a mess of Byron’s business. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Our troubles have nothing to do with you. If anything, you’ve brought a ray of sunshine to this dark time.” He stepped closer, reached out, and brushed an errant curl away from her face before his gaze swept over her from top to bottom, leaving shivers in its wake.

“Was the walk here too long? Are you tired?” he asked.

“No. The walk was refreshing, and it gave me a chance to work off my frustrations.”

“New frustrations or old ones?”

She let out a breath. “I tried to convince Stella and Effie to quit Maude’s House, but Madam Maude interrupted us. Effie would have none of it, and I don’t know if Stella is actually reluctant to leave or if she’s intimidated by Maude. Either way, I probably lost my best chance at taking her away from there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now that Maude knows my intentions, she’ll be keeping an eye on Stella. Even if Stella decides she wants to go, Maude will try to stop her.”

“Maybe she can sneak away in the early morning hours.”

Her frustrations returning, Lizzie approached the desk, setting the bundle and the lantern on its surface. Perhaps she would work here for a while. “When I was a child, I remember a time when one of the prostitutes wanted to stop selling herself and move out. Maude locked her in her room at night and had the bouncers watch over her during the day.”

“Did she eventually escape?”

Lizzie shook her head as she started to unwrap the bundle Byron had given her. “Maude talked her into staying. Or perhaps she threatened her.”

Byron set his hand on her arm, stilling her movements. “I do have some good news for you. I have a lead on finding Declan Finn.”

Lizzie’s attention snapped back up to Byron. “You do?” The excitement that had sprung to her chest flickered out quickly. “Is that good news? I’m not sure if I want to know who my father is. A part of me is eager to know, and another dreads the answer.” She waved the thought aside. “At least the question has been keeping my mind off my aunt’s matchmaking attempts which, thankfully, have been delayed by my uncle.”

“You’ve had a tough time of it lately,” he whispered. Once again, he swept that stubborn stray curl from her face, this time tucking it behind her ear.

“As have you.” She pulled out her hat pin and lifted her hat from her head to deal with those wayward strands. “We make quite the pair.”

“At least I have you.”

Lizzie cast him a questioning look as she patted her head, searching for a pin that could secure that willful lock.

He brushed her hands away. “Allow me.” Byron leaned closer, his fingers gently pulling a pin from her hair while she stared at the broad chest before her. “Every time I see you, my worries fade away,” he confessed, his voice a soft rumble in her ear.

His warmth and unique masculine scent enveloped her, bringing heat to her cheeks and the desire to touch him to mind. “I can’t explain it, but I feel the same. I find myself looking forward to seeing you. You calm me and encourage me. My troubles don’t seem quite so insurmountable when you’re near.”

His gentle fingers adjusted a hair pin as he repaired her coiffure. The memory of his mouth on hers made her lips tingle. She longed for more of his kisses, but were these the thoughts of a wonton woman? Her aunt would say so. Then again, she rarely gave credence to anything her aunt said. Kissing Byron made her whole body come alive with flutters and heat. Even better, it made her feel cherished, of value.

When Byron drew back and lifted her hat over her head, she studied his tempting lips. She knew well they would be soft yet firm to the touch, and oh so responsive. She brushed her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, and Byron’s gaze dropped to her mouth, its intensity setting off a ripple of excitement inside her chest. She raised her hand to his smooth-shaven cheek and inched closer until their faces were a mere handspan apart. This man was a handsome devil, but also kind, honest, and open-minded. And he made her feel … He makes me feel … loved.

She pressed her lips to his, giving in to the temptation. The hat dropped from his hand, and he cradled the back of her head as he deepened their kiss with an urgency that stole her breath. Her knees weakened, but before they could give out, Byron’s arm about her waist drew her flush against him. She moaned, and her pulse sped.

She welcomed his hard body against hers, the strength of his arms around her. How many times had she relied on his strength, on his support, when her own had been spent? She slipped her hands inside his coat to feel the muscles hidden beneath the layers of fabric.

He lifted her to sit on the desk and brushed his mouth over her jaw to her throat, sending shivers down her spine. His breath warmed her skin, and his lips nipping and kissing threatened to drain every last thought from her head.

She grasped handfuls of his coat as she basked in the sensations Byron inspired. Dear God, this man had the ability to tease the very Devil into giving up his soul. She’d always believed she’d be better served being alone all her life, but with Byron, she’d never felt so happy, so safe to be who she truly was. “Marry me,” she whispered. The moment the words left her lips, a thread of panic wound itself around her heart.

Byron froze for a moment before he drew back. “What did you say?”

“I … I …”

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. He set his hands on the desk on either side of her and leaned in. “Don’t worry. I won’t pressure you to repeat it, but I will take it as a sign of progress.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and cringed. Indeed, he was wearing down her reluctance.

A fingertip traced her nose before warm lips pressed against hers in an all-too-brief kiss.

When she opened her eyes, Byron stared back, his grin still in place, and a giddy thrill coursed through her. If she did marry Byron, what would their lives be like? Even if the two of them could be happy together, what about his parents and sister? “If your family knew where I grew up, would they accept me?”

“Of course.” Although Byron was quick to respond, his smile faded. “I’ll marry you even if they don’t.” His arms came around her, and he held her close. “I love you. I fell in love with you the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

She drank in those words, savoring each one even though she knew full well how much pain a family member could cause, and how pitiful someone could become if their family turned their backs on them. She had no doubt Byron loved and respected his parents and his sister. If they didn’t approve of her as his wife, he would pay a heavy price. “I spoke rashly, and I need time to think. In other words, I haven’t yet agreed to marry you,” she reminded him.

“Not yet, but you will.”