The Rogue’s Christmas Gift (Wicked Widows League #24)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

I n. Out.

In. Out.

The room was spinning, and Kitty was finding it extremely difficult to breathe—hence she was currently focusing on taking deep breaths and exhaling. It was similar to the breathing the midwife had instructed her to do when she was laboring with Christopher.

Closing her eyes, she willed the room to stop the dreadful twirling as chaos erupted all around her. The ballroom of Pleasure House was a blur, filled with people she didn’t know. Constables, lords—friends of her brother-in-law—Pleasure House residents, everyone was crowded into the ballroom staring at her expectantly.

In. Out.

The piece of parchment in her hand felt like it was burning her flesh. This couldn’t be right. There was no way the Chancery Court had made a decision. Especially one that would take her home and establishment away from her.

The day had begun as melancholy as all the others had without Harrison in her life, but Kitty had rallied on, determined to always care for herself. Winnie and baby Reginald were a welcoming distraction, and they had spent time sitting on the ballroom floor, planning the Christmas Ball. It was a glorious afternoon, and she would be forever thankful to Winnie—though the visit did cause Kitty a little sadness.

Pierre entered, loud and demanding. He had marched into the ballroom, surrounded by constables and a few judges of the Court of Chancery, declaring himself the new owner.

No.

“Kitty, are you well?” Winnie’s quiet voice asked, the cool touch of her friend’s hand on her arm jolted Kitty’s eyes open.

In. Out.

“Madame Delcour?” Richmore questioned appearing beside his wife.

The duke had arrived shortly after Pierre and his minions, instructing his son’s maid to take the babe out of the ballroom.

“Madame, what would you like to do?” Siegfried asked from his place in front of her.

“There is nothing you can do. The choice is hers,” Pierre said from somewhere behind the wall of protectors in front of Kitty.

He’d marched in mere moments ago, waving a document in the air announcing to all that he was now the owner of Pleasure House. Surely it was a cruel jest. Kitty hadn’t heard from Jacques’s brother in a sennight and had foolishly hoped that he was out of her life for good. How wrong she’d been.

“It is quite simple Mrs. Delcour. The Court of Chancery has ruled in your brother-in-law’s favor. Pleasure House and all its holdings now belong to Mr. Pierre Delcour,” the Marquess of Belville sneered.

He was a middle-aged man with a proclivity for hitting amongst other things that Kitty did not allow to happen at Pleasure House. He had applied for a membership and tried to gain entrance on several occasions, but she never granted him permission. His station in society, nor the fact that he was a member of the Court of Chancery, mattered to Kitty. The only thing she cared about was the occupants of Pleasure House.

In. Out.

In. Out.

She struggled to breathe; nothing would bring air to her lungs. The spinning room was slowly starting to fade around her, and she could feel herself sway—No.

She was not some simpering debutante who would swoon at the first sign adversity. Katherine Smith would’ve swooned and cried about the injustice of the world, but Madame Kitty Delcour would fight with every single breath in her body. She wasn’t Katherine Smith anymore and hadn’t been for years. Kitty knew who she was, and she wasn’t a person who would allow them to remove her without a fight.

Holding her head higher, she met his gaze. “Why was I not informed that a decision had been made?” she asked, thankful that her voice did not break.

It did not do well to show weakness in front of such men. That was one of the first lessons Jacques had taught her about running a gentlemen’s club.

Lord Woodson, another judge in the court, stepped forward to address Kitty. This one had a predilection for tying his partners up and assaulting them.

Woodson tried to step around the small shield of security protecting her, but was unable to pass them. “My dear Mrs. Delcour, the Court of Chancery is not obligated to inform you when we make a decision?—”

“Tell me Woodson, is it customary for judges in the Court of Chancery to personally come and deliver verdicts?” Richmore challenged folding his long arms over his chest.

His large frame towered over everyone else in the ballroom, and Kitty was thankful that her friend had married such a formidable man.

She couldn’t help the trajectory of her mind as she imagined Harrison standing by her side, facing her foes beside her.

“We felt that this particular case needed our special attention.” Belville flicked his gaze over to Kitty, his beady eyes roaming up and down her form.

A prickle of unease clawed in her chest at the triumphant gleam in the marquess’s gaze. “This is absurd. You don’t have the right to barge in here and tell me that I must relinquish my business to this serpent.” Kitty pressed her fingers to her chest.

Her despair was quickly transforming into anger.

“I’m afraid that the court has every right, and we ruled that Mr. Delcour was indeed an original investor in Pleasure House. He has proved that he provided your late husband the original funds to start the business.” Woodson waved his hand in the air.

Kitty stepped between Richmore and Siegfried to stand directly in front of the other three men. No more hiding, letting others stand up for her. She was a grown woman, owner of her own business, and she would not relinquish it without a fight. “What proof, did he have? I can assure you that he did not provide the funds to Jacques, and in this case, Jacques left Pleasure House to me.” She took a deep breath, willing her nerves to remain calm. This was not the time for fits of fancy. “Even if he did provide any funds to Jacques, it means nothing as I have built this business from nothing. When Jacques died in a duel, I was the one to take Pleasure House from nothing to what it is today. I will gladly give him back whatever funds he claims he provided to Jacques. The business belongs to me.”

“That sounds like an excellent solution to me,” Richmore said from behind Kitty. “What was the amount Delcour, a few hundred pounds?”

“It doesn’t matter what the amount was. What matters is that without my funds this establishment wouldn’t be, so it belongs to me, the rightful owner,” Pierre said, spittle spewing out of his mouth.

Kitty opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say a word, Harrison marched into the room out of breath, clothes disheveled, his glorious red hair that she’d always loved plastered to his forehead.

Did he run there?

Kitty’s mouth was agape in wonder. He was glorious as he stormed across the ballroom floor wearing nothing but a waistcoat. His white shirt clung to strong arms, and his jaw sat tight like an avenging angel ready for war.

For her?

“What the hell is going on here?” Harrison asked, walking through the group of men facing her.

He came and stood beside her, his larger body giving her a sense of protection she had never known or needed. Closing her mouth, Kitty gazed up at Harrison, watching the slow trail of perspiration fall down his temple to his strong jaw line, to disappear in the neck of his cravat.

Kitty opened and closed her moistening hands, trying to control the sudden tremble in her body.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Pierre scowled at Harrison, fixating his gaze on him and Kitty side by side.

“Anything pertaining to Madame Delcour is my concern. Now, I’ll ask again, what the bloody hell is going on here?” Harrison took a step toward Pierre, and Kitty couldn’t stop herself from staring at him if she tried.

“It’s simple Hendershot, The Court of Chancery has ruled that Madame Delcour is no longer the owner of this establishment. So, she now has decisions to make.”

“What fucking decisions?” Harrison cursed, his body tensing beside Kitty.

“Hendershot, control yourself,” Richmore said, placing his hand on Harrison’s shoulder.

Pierre replied, “My dear sister here has two choices. Either pack her things and leave without a farthing to her name or stay and work like the whore she is?—”

A loud gasp escaped Kitty as Harrison’s fist connected to Pierre’s jaw. Her brother-in-law went tumbling into Belville and Woodson. The three men lost their footing, falling to the marbled floor of the ballroom.

Covering her mouth, Kitty tried to hide the snort of laughter that erupted from her. It felt surprisingly good to watch them struggle to rise. Though her world was crumbling around her, knowing that she had her friends and Harrison made Kitty believe she could face anything.

Struggling to his feet, Pierre stood, keeping his distance from Harrison. “I want this man escorted out!” he pointed to Harrison, giving the command to Siegfried.

“Madame?” Siegfried inquired to her, eyes wide wondering if he should follow Pierre’s command.

“That won’t be necessary. We’re leaving.” Harrison held his hand out, looking down at Kitty expectantly.

All breath left her, the occupants of the room disappeared, and there was no one else in the world but her and Harrison. After everything she’d done to him, refusing him over and over again, all because she wanted to cling to her independence to her business more than anything in the world. Now it was gone, and she did not know if she would ever relinquish control away from Pierre and his acquaintances.

It was painfully clear that both Belville and Woodson had been promised something in order for the Court of Chancery to vote in Pierre’s favor, but what was it? And how could Kitty possibly prove that something nefarious was at play?

Without a word, Kitty placed her hand in Harrison’s, and suddenly she could breathe. A smile teased at the corner of his mouth, and he threw her a wink before they turned and faced her foes together.

“Very well, I’ll leave, but you will not be here long. I will find a way to appeal this decision, and when I do, all of you will feel my wrath.” Kitty looked each man in the eye, wanting them to know that she did not plan to hand over everything that she’d worked for to an undeserving piece of swine like her brother-in-law.

Woodson nodded his head mockingly. “Of course, you can try my dear Madame, but unless you have proof that your late husband left the establishment to you. I’m afraid there is nothing to be done.”

Kitty’s entire body stiffened, there was proof—a will— years ago. Jacques had one created, but she was not sure what he had done with it. How completely daft her younger self was then.

The only thing she cared about after Jacques’s death was living. People depended on her for answers, and their own survival.

“Where is the Lord Chancellor? Is he aware of this subterfuge?” Richmore asked.

Kitty looked from Richmore to the other men. The Lord Chancellor had the authority to overrule the judges, and if he was not aware of the decision, perhaps all was not lost.

Hope swelled inside of Kitty. She needed to find a way to stop Pierre from ruining everything that she’d built with her own bare hands.

“The Lord Chancellor has more important matters to see to.” Belville gave her a triumphant smile.

More important matters than her, a woman. Of course, the marquess and Lord Woodson were conspiring with Pierre. The both of them had been trying to gain entrance into Pleasure House for years, but Kitty had never approved of them.

In her profession, it was imperative that she knew who she could trust with her employees and whom she couldn’t. The world was full of cruelty, especially to women, and she would not allow anyone under her protection to come to harm.

“There is nothing you can do. Make your decision, sister .” He sneered the word, his disdain for her clear.

In. Out.

Straightening her spine, Kitty met the rancorous gaze of her brother-in-law. Cold brown eyes, so unlike those of his brother’s gleamed in victory.

Swallowing several times, she willed herself to say the words. “I’ll go?—”

“Madame, no!” A chorus of voices rang out around the ballroom.

The occupants of Pleasure House had slowly crept into the ballroom. Their livelihoods were at stake, after all. With Kitty they could always depend on full bellies and stuffed pockets, but Pierre was unknown to them.

She held up her hand. “Do not fret, I will return.” Kitty shook her head, looking around the room as more and more people entered. “I will never stop fighting for Pleasure House and all of you.”

Kitty took a step but was suddenly stopped by Siegfried. “Madame, allow me to come with you.”

“No, you’re needed here. Besides, I couldn’t possibly steal you from Felton,” she whispered discreetly, squeezing his hand.

Felton was one of her male workers and Siegfried’s lover. She knew that he loved the younger man, and it would be cruel to separate them for her sake.

Beside her, Harrison squeezed her hand, giving her the strength she needed to walk out of the room. With every step she took, her heart broke into tiny pieces. When Kitty had first arrived at Pleasure House, it had been dilapidated, bare, and empty. With her own two hands, she had transformed it into something magnificent, five years after her husband’s death.

She would not give it up so easily.

No matter what.

Hours later, Kitty gazed around her chambers. Everything looked the same—except different. She had called the master’s bedroom her chambers for over eight years; now she was being forced out by an undeserving cretin.

Sitting on the black four poster bed she’d had especially made for herself, she peered around her sanctuary. It was the one place that she could be herself, the one place where the mask of Madame Delcour did not have to always be on. It was the place where her son had died, the room that she’d grieved for him countless days and nights.

It now had an emptiness to it without all the little things that made the room hers. A wooden ballerina, carved by her father for Christmas when she was eight. The painting her sister had given her before she went to London. Two dried and framed roses, they were a gift from Harrison when she was sixteen. All gone, and without those little pieces of her, the room seemed bare.

Harrison had sent for his carriage. All of Kitty’s belongings that she could take with her was being piled into his and Richmore’s.

I’ll return.

It was a phrase that she kept repeating to herself over and over. A phrase that she believed down to her very being.

“Madame, the carriages are packed and ready,” her maid, Jenny, said from the doorway.

Kitty faced the younger woman. Jenny’s red rimmed eyes were filled with tears, a handkerchief pressed to her small nose.

“Jenny, you’re welcome to stay. I won’t ask you to leave everyone you love if you do not wish to.” Kitty gave her a small smile.

Like most occupants of Pleasure House, Jenny’s entire life was at the mansion. The workers were her family. She was engaged to marry one of the footmen, and it would be selfish for Kitty to remove the girl from her home.

“No, Madame I’m going with you. I know we’ll return. I trust no one more than you to keep your word.” Jenny shook her blonde curls, pressing the handkerchief in her hand to her cheeks to stop her tears.

Kitty swallowed down her own emotions. Blinking several times, she willed the tears away, not wanting to cause a scene.

I’ll return.

She repeated the mantra over and over in her mind. This was not the end; it was the start of something new and exciting.

Her eyes roamed around her sanctuary one last time before she walked out of the room and into the empty hallway.

Eagerly gazing around, she fought back the melancholy that threatened to undo her as she willed her feet to move. Her slippers silently tapped against the upholstered carpet as she remembered the history of every object as she passed.

Wallpaper she and Lilias had hung as they worked tirelessly to repair the mansion after Jacques’ death. Vases from Italy that Kitty had flirted a ridiculous low price from the seller, with just a smile. A tapestry from China, and a painting from the Prince Regent himself.

Reaching the stairs, she took them slowly, her fingers teasing the freshly polished wood of the banister. It was the first thing she had repaired when she finally had the funds. It was a grand house and it deserved a spectacular staircase, one that represented what Pleasure House was.

Whispers pulled Kitty out of her reverie, her head snapping up.

Her eyes watered at the vision in front of her, and Kitty knew that she would not be able to hold her tears. The entire staff of Pleasure House had come out to wish her farewell.

“Don’t leave, lass. We can fight this,” the cook, Mrs. Pennyloaf said, taking Kitty by the hand.

Unable to speak, she nodded, before she continued walking through the crowd of her family. Pleasure House and all is occupants was Kitty’s home, and leaving them in the hands of someone most undeserving was torture.

“Madame, I have been saving since you hired me, it’s yours,” Alice said, holding out a stack of bank notes.

Kitty shook her head, quickly wiping at the lone tear that had fallen. “No, Alice. I will be fine. I promise.”

Reaching the front door, she ignored Pierre and his minions. Taking a deep breath, Kitty faced the people who had become closer to her than her own family. “I will return, and when I do, I expect this place to be in one piece.” Kitty closed her eyes, allowing a few traitorous tears to fall.

“Are you ready?” Harrison asked gently.

She opened her eyes, meeting his green gaze.

“I’m ready.”