CHAPTER 17

Cat used the stairs on the outside of the building. It was usually unlocked during daylight hours for the girls to go in and out.

She knew how she must look. Her hair down and tangled, her face probably still flushed with anger. She wanted the safety of her room, to hide there. Forever. But she knew that after a few furious moments she wouldn’t continue to shut herself away.

She was through with that. But white-hot anger stayed with her. If Canton had tried, he couldn’t have landed a more lethal blow. And she hated him for striking at her greatest weakness: her past.

The fact that she had plunged from such an exquisite happiness to a hell she had spent a lifetime trying to forget only exacerbated her fury. It strengthened her determination to even the score. She would hurt him as he had hurt her.

Cat knew she couldn’t bear to see him every day, to remember the sweetness and yet another betrayal. And his pocketbook was the best way to rid herself of him.

The French troupe would be here only a few more days. But Wilhelmina and several of the other girls had learned the cancan, and she would employ musicians—then slash the price of drinks to next to nothing.

And gambling. By Lucifer, if it took women dealers, she would do that too.

Lucifer. She would have to find a new oath. That one reminded her too much of Canton. She closed her eyes against a new onslaught of pain.

In the meantime, there was Molly. While sitting with her, Cat had gotten lots of important—and frightening—information. What to do about the danger to the girl?

Canton was certainly no longer a possible source of help. Cat wouldn’t ask him for a drink of water if she was thirsting to death.

She combed her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and looked in the mirror. Her face was still flushed, her lips swollen. Her body felt … odd. It would have been a pleasant feeling under any other circumstances, but now she hated every reminder of Canton. She hated her body for still feeling tremors. She hated it for wanting him.

Cat splashed water on her face. What she really wanted was a bath. A bath to wash away this afternoon. But she knew she could never wash it away. Not the memory of how she’d responded to him, how much she gave to him, nor the bitter aftermath, that cold, contemptuous archangel’s face.

She shivered with the memory. With the humiliation. Then she tried to block that part of her away, as she had blocked other parts. She could do it. She’d done it before. He no longer existed for her in any way but a rival to be eliminated.

With a last quick look in the mirror, she turned and went to find Teddy.

He was behind the bar, his eyes fixed on the steps leading up to her room, and she knew he must have caught sight of her through the window as she crossed the street.

Ice Queen. She could do that. She fixed a smile on her face and moved deliberately to the bar, going to a section that was empty.

Teddy moved quickly over to her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “But Canton can’t help us.”

“He refused?”

Cat looked away as if surveying the half-filled room. She didn’t like lying to Teddy. “His price was too high.”

“Price?”

Cat didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t have to. Teddy’s face darkened, and he looked ready to kill. “I’ll …”

“You won’t do anything,” Cat said. “I’ll do it. In the meantime we have to find a safe place for Molly.”

“I’ll ask Hugh,” Teddy said. “Perhaps she could stay with them for a while. His Elizabeth could use some help.”

Cat nodded. It was the best they could do at the moment. But they would have to think of a better long-range plan.

He nodded. “Oh, and this came for you.”

Cat looked curiously at the elegant envelope and slowly opened it. She read it quickly, and then again, more slowly, surprise replacing some of her cold fury. “An invitation to tea from Mr. and Mrs. Quinn Devereux.”

Teddy’s face showed the same surprise. Many of the city’s most important politicians and business leaders patronized the Silver Slipper, but never had Cat been invited to a private home. The invitation was something she had coveted for a number of years as an indication of respectability. Ordinarily, she would have been delighted, but now she wondered whether anything could delight her again.

The Devereuxs. The golden couple of San Francisco. Why?

Canton had stayed at the Pacific Palace, but that really didn’t mean anything. A lot of people stayed there. And the Devereuxs certainly wouldn’t have anything to do with a man like Canton.

Curiosity fought with caution. Curiosity won. She would go.

Tea at the Pacific Palace!

She turned her attention to Teddy. “You’ll talk to Hugh.”

He nodded. “In the meantime one of us will always be with Molly. Wilhelmina is there now.”

Cat hesitated. “Legally her father is her guardian, and he can make his claim on her. We must act as soon as possible in case he goes to the authorities.”

Teddy’s gaze avoided her as he fumbled with a glass. “Why do you think she’s so afraid?”

Cat thought she had learned enough from Molly to guess what the girl would not, could not talk about. God only knew she’d seen and experienced the worst of men, and the fear in Molly’s eyes, the humiliation she saw there, didn’t come from discipline. Cat’s own mother had sold her. She shuddered to think of what Molly’s father had done.

Damn Canton. She hadn’t realized how much hope she’d rested in him. With absolutely no reason, just instinct. And her instinct had failed her. That cold shiver rippled through her again.

Teddy’s eyes had a strange look. “I wonder why Molly’s father didn’t go to the authorities in the beginning. Why would he have thugs try to kidnap her?”

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Cat replied. “Perhaps exposure is the answer. We must get Molly to talk more about that man.”

“Elizabeth might be able to help. Everyone talks to Elizabeth,” Teddy said about Hugh’s wife.

Cat doubted it. She knew she had never been able to talk about her past, no matter how kind someone had been—even Ben, who’d married her. She had warned him when he’d asked her to marry him. She had wanted to be honest with him, to tell him that she had killed someone. She hadn’t been able to tell all of it, even to him. Shame and guilt always went too deep. She hadn’t known how deep until this afternoon when Canton—To hell with Canton.

“Why don’t you go talk to Hugh now?” she said, hating the thought of Teddy’s presence at the Glory Hole. But the sooner Molly was moved, the better. Cat knew that in her bones, knew it from running herself. The cardinal rule was never to stay anywhere long.

“And Teddy,” she added as he started to move away. “See if you can’t find some women dealers for us.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking Canton’s taking customers away because of his lady dealers.”

“But we’ve never done much with gambling.”

“It’s time to change.”

He obviously didn’t agree, and she watched his expression as he struggled with himself. He never openly disagreed with her. She knew his loyalty was as deep as the ocean, and sometimes it bothered her that he never argued. He apparently took dissent as a sign of disloyalty. She didn’t.

“Say it, Teddy,” she commanded.

“The Silver Slipper is successful because of the kind of people it attracts,” he said finally, almost stuttering in his earnestness. “They come here to transact business, to relax with a drink.”

“But,” Cat argued back, “our revenues are up since the cancan, and the Glory Hole is certainly profiting from the women dealers.”

“But your profit is down,” he said. “And after the excitement of something different dies, our new customers will find someplace else that’s exciting, and our regular customers might be gone.”

“I’m not going to let him win,” Cat said stubbornly.

“So you both lose?” His steady gaze met hers.

“It’s too late,” she whispered. “It’s gone too far.”

“How far?”

“You’d better hurry. I’ll need you later.”

“Catalina?”

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

There was a silence, then, “If he hurt you …” There was a rough threat in his voice, and also a little reluctance. Canton had saved Molly yesterday.

Cat shook her head. No one had hurt her. She’d done it all herself. “He’s just … damned arrogant,” she said stiffly. “And he’s trouble.”

The gambler absently picked up the San Francisco paper lying next to him on the table of the Sacramento hotel. He wanted to look relaxed, prosperous. His bill was overdue, and he had been receiving anxious looks from the management. He would sneak out tonight.

His luck had been bad. But then, it had never been very good. Of late he had won only when he cheated, and a month ago he had been caught and beaten; he had been afraid to cheat since. He was down to his last ten dollars. He needed a new stake. Then his luck would change. He was sure it would.

His eyes glanced over the headlines without a great deal of interest. Then he saw the picture of the woman and felt a jolt of recognition.

He quickly read the story as a hand went up to a faint scar on his face, rubbing it absently. Could it be? Lizzie?

He had spent years looking for her, scouring the Mississippi River towns and then the mining camps. He had lost the scent years ago and figured she had died.

He looked again. Twenty years had passed, but he would never forget that face.

Catalina Hilliard. A fancy name. Owner of a saloon. Famous enough to get her picture in the paper. She must have a lot of money.

Maybe even enough to make him forget his vow to kill her.

Maybe.

He wondered whether ten dollars would get him to San Francisco. If not, he’d find a way.

He tucked the paper under his arm. His luck was changing just as he had known it would.

Meredith Devereux had gone over the menu with her housekeeper. Tea, of course. Brandy for the men. They usually preferred that. Certainly her husband did, and from what she’d heard of the mysterious Mr. Canton, he would too.

She wasn’t sure about Miss Hilliard. She wasn’t even sure why her husband had suggested this afternoon event, though he’d had a familiar gleam in his eyes. It was one that usually made her wary—wary and often delighted.

He enjoyed mischief. She did, too, up to a point. But she also liked to know what to expect. She’d told herself she’d had enough of adventuring in the Underground Railroad, though sometimes she might long a little for those days, particularly those wonderful, tormenting moments when she and Quinn had met, and fought, each thinking the other was the enemy. She loved him more today than she ever had, but those days had been incredibly exciting.

So what was he up to now? He was certainly up to something.

When she’d asked, he’d merely said that Mr. Canton was interested in becoming a substantial citizen and might be interested in supporting some of their charities.

And Miss Hilliard? she’d asked.

He’d just grinned.

She did read newspapers—she knew about the rumored feud between the two saloon owners—and she’d looked at him suspiciously.

But he’d flatly refused to say any more.

She could have strangled him, not a new urge. She’d had it the first day she’d set eyes on him, when his startling blue eyes had appeared to see right through her disguise as a simpering husband-hunting belle. He was still as handsome, though the premature white that had once sprinkled his hair now dominated it. At fifty-five he looked a good ten years younger. He was as lean and graceful as ever, vibrant and successful, with so many interests, he made her head spin. Life was never dull with Quinn Devereux. The eight hellish years he’d spent as an English prisoner in Australia had stolen so much from him, he still tried to compensate for it—just as he tried to right every wrong he encountered. Her Quinn was the most compassionate man she’d ever met if, at times, quite roguish. As she feared he was being now.

She was fascinated with the legend of the Ice Queen and was looking forward to meeting her. Meredith had, after all, been a fugitive from justice, had spent nights in the house of an infamous madam and had escaped slave hunters. Her half sister was an escaped slave, and her husband’s best friend was a former slave, who now had his own thriving business. She’d learned long ago to judge the nature of a person rather than his appearance or occupation.

Still, there was that rumored feud. She poured a larger amount of brandy into the decanter. She might need some herself.

Meredith looked around the penthouse of the Pacific Palace. It had a wonderful view of the ocean, which was why she and Quinn moved here after their two sons left home, first for college and then one with the railroad and the other with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Adventure, she feared, ran in the family. Both boys had wanted to make their own way, rather than take the easy route in the family business.

A knock came, and May Ling, the housekeeper, hurried to open the door, Meredith following. Where in tarnation was Quinn?

A lovely woman in a stylish green dress stood at the entrance, curiosity bright in her very brilliant green eyes. There was also the slightest uncertainty, and Meredith instinctively held out her hands.

“Miss Hilliard. I’m Meredith Devereux and I’m so delighted you came. Come in. My husband is tardy, but he should be here any minute.”

Cat hesitated, then surrendered to Meredith’s charm. She smiled and followed Meredith into the room, taking a seat as her hostess indicated. There was an openness about Meredith Devereux that prompted her to say what she was thinking. “I don’t know why I was invited.”

Meredith laughed, a clear, happy sound that made Cat smile. “I’ll tell you the truth, Miss Hilliard. This was my husband’s idea, but I heartily approved. I warn you, though, he might well be up to some mischief. He can be … unpredictable. But I imagine it has something to do with our charities.”

Cat relaxed. It wasn’t some hoax. And she instinctively liked her hostess. There was no reservation in her, no condemnation. She seemed, in fact, genuinely happy to meet Cat.

There was the sound of a key turning in the front door. “My husband,” Meredith said. “Watch out for him. He is charming and unscrupulous in trying to get money for his causes.”

Cat couldn’t help but hear the affection in the other woman’s voice despite the admonition. It was clear Meredith Devereux was still very much in love with her husband.

That sharp, agonizing sense of loss, that loneliness she hadn’t acknowledged until Canton appeared weeks ago, assaulted Cat again. It was a trembling weakness inside, an overwhelming sense of emptiness. She tried not to let it show on her face. She wasn’t lonely for Canton. She despised him. As he obviously despised her.

But the feeling lingered as a tall, handsome man confidently entered the room. She had seen him, of course. But she’d never been introduced to him, nor had he ever been in the Silver Slipper.

He bowed to her. “Miss Hilliard. It’s really quite kind of you to come on such short notice.” And Cat understood exactly what Meredith had tried to tell her. He was indeed charming, warmth exuding from him like heat from a fireplace.

Why did he remind her of Canton? There was much more natural warmth to this man. A twinkle in the eye. Yet there was a residue of that quality that so set Canton apart from ordinary men. As if they had gone through a crucible and emerged changed forever. Like steel. Except with Canton, it was flawed.

Stop thinking about Canton, she warned herself. These two men were nothing alike. Canton would never have that gentle smile.

But he had. For just a few short minutes, he’d had one. But it was fraud.

A knock came at the door, and in a few strides her host was there, opening it, and it was as if she herself had conjured up Canton by thinking of him. Dear Lucifer, that was the last thing she wanted. He was the last person she ever wished to see. Her hand clenched tightly, and it was all she could do to control her face, to try to keep a pleasant smile in place.

For a brief second she thought he might have planned this, but she saw the surprise, and displeasure, that flickered very briefly before his face became ice, even when the mouth twisted into a practiced smile.

A sudden tension permeated the room. It was so strong that Cat knew the other two people must sense it. Hostility flashed between them, hostility and the familiar thunder. Why did he have to look so superb? He wore tight but very well-tailored fawn-colored britches, a lawn shirt, and a beautifully fitted afternoon coat. Her gaze went to his hip; he wasn’t wearing his gun.

He saw her gaze, and his features became even harder, if possible. His eyes narrowed and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He turned to Quinn.

Although the host seemed perfectly relaxed, Cat again caught the impression of two men very much attuned to each other, recognizing each other, although Quinn’s expression was sincerely amused, and Canton’s was—not angry, but tense.

“You know Miss Hilliard?” Devereux asked smoothly.

Cat wanted to commit murder. Everyone in San Francisco knew they had met.

“I’ve had that … most interesting experience,” Canton said with a slight mocking smile.

Cat saw Meredith wince and glare at her husband, but he seemed not to notice.

It was a good thing Cat didn’t have something in her hands, or Meredith Devereux’s china would be hurtling at Canton’s head.

“Yes, indeed,” she said silkily instead. “I’ve tried to make him … welcome. Compensate for his first few unfortunate weeks. Someone should have warned him about the Barbary Coast. Terrible thing to happen in our city.” She turned to him. “Tell me, Mr. Canton, is the jail really as … dismal as I hear?”

“You should try everything once, ma’am,” he said. “I know of a certain police captain who can probably assist you in a guided tour.”

She shrugged, unable to hold her tongue. “Some experiences are greatly overrated, and I don’t think I would care much for the company incarcerated there.” She made it clear what company she meant.

“Tea?” chirped Meredith.

“Brandy?” offered Quinn with an easy smile that included both of them. He seemed not to notice the tension. But that was quite impossible. Cat wanted to throw something at him too. He was enjoying this, by God.

“Brandy,” Marsh said curtly.

“Brandy,” echoed Cat, hating to agree with anything Canton said or wanted, but needing it just the same.

“Brandy,” Meredith said to her husband’s surprise. He ignored her suspicious look.

Quinn grinned as he started to pour. Everyone ignored the sandwiches strategically located on nearby tables. Cat’s defiant gaze was locked on Marsh’s carefully blank one. Meredith was watching her husband, wondering what he was up to with these two people who obviously loathed each other. There were undercurrents so strong, the room was practically vibrating with them.

Quinn graciously presented the glasses. He sat down lazily with his own drink, folding his long legs as if he were in the most amiable company. He turned to Marsh.

“Understand you had a bit of trouble day before yesterday.”

Marsh eyed him with hostility. He had been neatly manipulated into this, and he didn’t like it. He wondered whether Cat had been involved and then decided not. She looked too damn angry, but then, she was a good actress.

“No trouble,” he said in the same curt tone he’d used asking for brandy.

Quinn’s grin broadened. “A modest hero. I understand you saved a young lady from kidnapping.”

Marsh winced, his eyes growing even icier.

Cat gulped her brandy, feeling it burn her throat. She coughed. Canton didn’t have one decent bone in his body!

Quinn turned his attention to her. “And I hear fine things about you, Miss Hilliard, and the way you take care of the girls who work for you.”

Cat took another sip of brandy.

“Which is why Merry and I invited you here today,” he said, avoiding Meredith’s questioning look. “She and I are supporting a house for young ladies who need help. We thought you might be interested.”

Marsh looked stunned. Cat gulped her brandy.

“White slavery is not unknown in the Barbary Coast,” Quinn said. “Both for Chinese and white girls. Our housekeeper, May Ling, told me a few days ago of an example. We want a safe place where they can go, learn an occupation, get an education if they need it. We’re raising money now, hope to open it in a few months.”

Silence followed his announcement. Cat felt excitement rise in her. If she had known of a place like that years ago … and if Molly had known of one …

Cat had done little in the past years but build the Silver Slipper; now she was being handed an opportunity to help girls who had no place to turn. But she did have a reservation.

“Would … the other contributors … approve of my participation?” she asked hesitantly.

Meredith smiled. “Of course they would,” she said softly. She knew all about being an outsider. “We would love to have you.” She hesitated, then added quickly, “And Mr. Canton, too, of course.”

Cat grimaced. “You can count on me.”

“Taylor?” Quinn asked.

Marsh almost missed the name. Christ, he had to become more accustomed to it. But, then, he was looking at Cat, and at this moment she could divert any man’s thoughts. Her green eyes had softened. They looked almost wistful. And vulnerable. Very, very vulnerable. Uncertainty knifed through him. He remembered the tears on her face, then the sudden joy before he’d leveled his blows.

He was so damned unused to trust, to belief in anyone. In the last two decades, he’d always assumed the worst; he’d had to in order to stay alive.

Now he wondered whether he had been mistaken. But still … he couldn’t let go of his mistrust. He was suddenly aware of Quinn Devereux’s eyes on him, a request for an answer to his question indicated by his raised brows.

Marsh thought rapidly. He thought of his own sister and mother. Both raped before being killed. He thought of Molly’s unconscious form. He shrugged. “If Miss Hilliard believes it a good cause, how can I possibly disagree?” he said, a bite in his tone. “This has been most interesting,” he continued, “but I fear that business calls, especially now that I have an added expense.” He downed the rest of his brandy, rose with that lazy grace of his, bowing to Meredith and Cat. “Ladies.”

“I’ll show you out,” Quinn said.

Marsh fell into step with him.

“A lovely lady, Miss Hilliard,” Quinn said as he opened the door.

“Is she?” Marsh said caustically. “You must like claws.”

“They make life interesting,” Quinn said. “I know from experience.”

Marsh gave him a cold look, turned around, and disappeared down the hall.

Cat left minutes later after asking a few questions about the proposed home.

As the door closed behind her, Meredith turned to Quinn. “Why?”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Mr. Canton paid me a visit several weeks ago, asking about Miss Hilliard. His interest was”—he winked—“interesting.”

“But they dislike each other.”

“Do they?” He moved his mouth to her neck, thinking she was just as lovely as she had been years ago. Lovelier in fact. “Remember when we first met.…”

Her face flushed. It had been a battle royal, and now that she thought of it … the sparks between their two guests had sizzled in a most familiar way.