Deidra ran her hand over her loose curls and sighed. Since she’d announced that they would soon be out of business, she and the girls had spent the last thirty-six hours getting their things packed up and their affairs in order. She was wearing a dark skirt and white blouse, a far cry from the fancy gowns she favored but it was the more practical attire to wear while she went about the work of dismantling what had been her home and place of business for the last decade. As she wrapped one of her golden fertility idols in tissue paper and placed it in the open crate next to her on the parlor floor, she shook her head. Everything she’d worked for was being taken away from her and she couldn’t help the bitterness she felt.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Brushing her dusty hands off on her skirt, she went to see who was calling on them on a Tuesday afternoon. “Who is it?”
“Grady Fines, Esquire. I’ve business with the proprietor.”
Deidra opened the door and let her gaze sweep over the short small-framed man standing on her porch. He was wearing brown trousers, a pressed white shirt and a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles obscured his blue eyes. “I’m the proprietor. Can I help you?”
He reached into his pocket and extracted something. “I’m the solicitor representing Mr. Aaron Wilson. I’ve brought over your share of the funds he used to purchase the place.”
She extended her hand and took the bank draft he offered. “Two hundred dollars.” She said the amount aloud, not bothering to hide her disdain. On their slowest day, her girls pulled in double that amount. Aside from that, simple mathematics told her the town was sitting on a hefty sum of $1800 for the sale of her land. Still, she knew she had no say in the matter. It had already been decided. “Thank you.”
With a wave, the short man departed.
She turned and closed the door behind her, tucking the bank draft into the front pocket of her skirt. Once she’d cashed it, she’d divide it evenly among herself and the girls. Fifty dollars each would go a long way in helping them secure their new lives.
She was a shrewd businesswoman and had amassed a comfortable amount of savings. She’d encouraged her girls to do the same so they’d have funds to live on once they got out of the business of pleasure. Funds were not her main concern—she simply had no idea what she wanted to do next with her life. Inside, she’d always known she would one day have to leave the profession, but she’d never thought the day would come so suddenly.
Just as she prepared to sit back down on the settee and wrap another statuette, another knock sounded at the door. Stopping before her bottom hit the seat, she rose again and went back to the door. Perhaps Mr. Fines wanted to give her more money, but that was highly unlikely. “Who is it?”
A semi-familiar voice responded, “Carter Thibedeaux.”
She froze. It was the man who’d tried to rescue her from her problems the other day. While their encounter had been brief, she recognized the velvet voice. “Just a moment.” She raked a hand through her hair, hoping it was presentable, then swung the door open.
There he stood, on her porch, his hat in his hand. He was wearing a buckskin coat, left partially open, a brown work shirt and a pair of denims that gripped the hard lines of his thighs like a second skin. His brown leather boots were trimmed with shiny brown fur, which she surmised was beaver.
He gave her a debonair smile. “Remember me?”
She returned his smile. “How could I forget such a handsome gentleman?” Even as she spoke, she found her eyes fixating on his hands. They were so large she thought he could wrestle a bear and have a chance at winning. “What can I do for you, Carter?”
“I simply wanted to see you again.” His intense gaze locked with hers. “Our meeting was far too brief, Miss LaRue.”
“So, you’ve discovered my identity, have you?” She cocked her head to the side, assessing him. “Why on Earth would you come seeking me now that you know I’m a whore?”
“As I understand it, you’re a business owner. I have no plans of judging you for the kind of business you choose to run.”
She leaned on the doorframe and looked at this man. He had to be at least five years her junior. She decided to settle the question of his age then and there. “How old are you, Carter? If you don’t mind my asking.”
His gaze drifted a bit lower as he answered. “I’m twenty-five, soon to be twenty-six years old.”
“You’ve a very youthful face.” She had the distinct impression he was looking at her bosom, but being accustomed to such looks, and finding him so charming, she let him get an eyeful. “And do you know that I am thirty-one?”
To her surprise, he didn’t turn tail and run at her words. Instead, he reached for her hand and took it in both of his. “A woman of your beauty and experience is a true treasure. Your age doesn’t intimidate me, sweet.”
She could feel the blush filling her cheeks. “Oh, how you do go on.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, feeling like a young girl going cow-eyed over a boy.
He held fast to her hand, still gazing into her eyes. “If there’s anything I can do for you, name it and I’ll be at your disposal.”
She could see that he was really smitten with her and determined to pursue her despite her efforts to dissuade him. “There is one thing. I’ll need help moving my things out of the house on Saturday afternoon.”
He nodded. “I’ll be here. My aunt told me of the injustice that’s befallen you and I was sorry to hear about it.”
She couldn’t believe this man. It was obvious he was different from most of the men in town who would use her girls’ services frequently but would never sully themselves by speaking to them in public. “I assume you mean to pursue me, Carter. Do you realize what courting a whore could do to your reputation?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care. I know what I want and I intend to go after it.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly.
A shiver of excitement shot up her arm at the contact. She'd given up back-work years ago and rarely allowed a man into her bed. Yet Carter made her core warm with such a fleeting touch. This man, young though he might be, possessed a male power she couldn’t help enjoying. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He released her, and replaced his hat atop his head. “I’ll return Saturday at noon to help with the loading.”
She nodded and with a tip of his hat, he stepped off the porch and headed down the footpath leading away from the house. She stood there a few long moments, watching him walk away until he was out of sight. Parts of her wanted to explore what this handsome man could offer her, in terms of companionship and in terms of passion.
But other logical parts of her knew she would probably never see him again. He was just a young man with a fascination and as soon as it wore off, he’d forget she ever crossed his path.
* * * * *
As evening fell, Carter sat in a comfortable armchair in the study of his uncle and aunt’s house. A fire was roaring in the fireplace and he was reading over a copy of Fireside Companion. Next to him, his uncle reclined with his pipe, poring over an issue of The National Police Gazette. The open cover of the magazine displayed a sketch of a boxing match in progress, but Carter knew the Gazette had pictures of scantily clad ladies as well as depictions of gruesome crimes within its pages.
Silence reigned in the room since Aunt Yardley had already gone to bed. Suddenly, Richard spoke, without looking up from his newspaper. “So, what do you think about the cabin? Will it work for you?”
He thought about his visit to the cabin earlier that day. The place wasn’t very large, but he could remedy that after the winter weather passed. “Sure will. I’ll spruce it up in the spring, but for now, it’ll do just fine.”
“That’s good.” Richard turned the page of the paper. “I’m sure Orson won’t mind helping you get it fixed up.”
“That’s good. The work will go faster if he helps out.” Orson was the opposite of Carter, much more brains than brawn—that was likely part of the reason he’d become a schoolteacher. His cousin wasn’t exactly mechanically inclined, but even Orson could hammer in a few nails and sand a few boards for him.
“Orson told me you’ve taken a liking to that LaRue woman.”
Carter sighed and looked up from his reading, viewing the look of disapproval on his uncle’s face. “Are you going to lecture me like Papa now? I’m nearly twenty-six years old, Uncle.”
Richard took a draw from the pipe and exhaled the fragrant smoke. “I know how old you are, boy. I also know my brother raised you with better sense than to go setting your cap after a whore.”
Putting the paper aside, Carter sat up straight and held the older man’s gaze. “Is it really that you don’t like her, Uncle? Or is it that you’d be embarrassed if I courted her?”
Richard stamped his foot on the hardwood floor. “I’m not going to stand idly by and let you ruin your future, Carter. There are plenty of nice, wholesome single girls in Graham. Why in hell would you want her, over all of them?”
“Have you ever even spoken to her? Aside from the fact that she’s beautiful, she’s got a sharp mind.”
“Bull puckey. You haven’t even been here long enough to meet anyone else.” Richard set his pipe down and glared at his nephew. “I think you’ve gone crazy. Maybe I should wire your parents, see if they can talk you out of this nonsense.”
Carter sighed. “Uncle Richard--”
Before he could finish his statement, Yardley appeared in the parlor door. Wearing her green nightgown and sleeping cap, she looked very displeased. Arms folded over her chest, she announced, “Will you two keep it down? I can hear you all the way at the back of the house. Now stop this infernal arguing or I’m going to box both your ears!”
“Yes ma’am.” Carter watched his aunt stomp angrily back to her bedroom. “See, you’ve woken Aunt Yardley with your bellowing. I suggest we both go to bed and agree to disagree on this.”
His brow still deeply furrowed, Richard asked quietly, “You’re not going to change your stubborn, pigheaded mind, are you?”
Carter shook his head. “Sorry, Uncle Richard.”
The older man rose from his chair and stalked down the hall.
He’d figured his uncle would be against his courting Deidra, but he hadn’t expected him to be such an ogre about it. Even though he was a man full grown, his older relatives still seemed to think of him as a child. Regardless of their beliefs, he was perfectly capable of making his own decisions and living with the consequences.
True, he’d only just come to town and had yet to sample the other ladies Graham had to offer. But this was a small settlement. He doubted very seriously that any woman here, or in Adams County for that matter, could rival Deidra in grace, loveliness, and wit. Maybe he was moving fast, and maybe he was headed down the path of destruction. Still, she was the one he wanted. He was as sure of that as he’d ever been of anything in his life. Besides, they were only sparking. It wasn’t as if he’d slipped a ring on her finger.
He’d come here to start over, to begin life anew. He’d planned to spend the winter making the necessary preparations so he could secure some land and be ready to sow crops come spring. With a woman like Deidra by his side, he knew his new beginning would be much more fulfilling.
After waiting until he heard the door to their bedroom open and close, Carter made his way to his own bed.
* * * * *
Wearing her best sapphire satin gown, Deidra descended the staircase into the chaos on the lower floor. All around her, men filled the space, milling about, drinking, and laughing. Her girls, gussied up in their best jewel-toned gowns, floated among the assemblage, holding court like royals.
The week had sped by much faster than she would have preferred. She had barely finished packing what she could this morning, leaving out only the furniture and dishes that would be needed for the gathering. Now it was Friday evening and the last hurrah for Miss LaRue’s Gentleman’s Club had drawn quite a crowd of revelers.
As she reached the bottom stair, someone touched her arm. Swiveling her head to her left, she plastered on a practiced smile. Looking at the man whom she’d never seen before, she fluttered her lashes. “How are you this evening, honey?”
The man seemed overexcited, alternating between mouth breathing and grinning. “Well, um, I came all the way from Philadelphia. Sure would love a roll with you, sweetheart.”
She kept the fake smile in place. “Sorry, darling. I’m the madam, and I don’t do back-work anymore.” Without waiting for him to reply, she sailed away into the crowd.
Seeing Lorna standing by the table holding the punch bowl and crystal goblets, she stopped to speak to her.
“We drew quite a crowd tonight, Miss D.” Lorna rested one hand on the low-cut bodice of her ruby-red gown and held a glass of punch in the other.
Scanning the room, she nodded. “Yes, Lorna. We’ve taken in a tidy sum, I’m sure.” She filled a glass for herself and was just about to take a sip when another hand touched her, this time on the small of her back.
Turning around, she offered the same smile she’d given the man a few moments before. “Evening, sugar. Enjoying the party?”
The man, who was all of four and a half feet tall, smiled up at her. “I sure am. Mighty fine party tonight, Miss LaRue. Mighty fine.” The lights from the wall-mounted gas lamps reflected on the bald top of his pale head, which was ringed with blondish hair.
She took in the little man, in his fine blue and white cutaway suit. “Much obliged. Do I know you?”
He shook his head. “We’ve never met but I know you. Word of your beauty has traveled far beyond the borders of Pennsylvania.” He reached out, grasped her hand, and lifted it to his lips. “All the rumors are true, I see.” He pecked it with his thin lips.
Wondering who in the world this person was, she gave a polite nod. “You flatter me. Now what did you say your name was?”
“Wilson. Aaron Wilson. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” He bowed low, and with his diminished height, he didn’t have far to go.
Wilson...Wilson...Wilson! As she turned the name over in her mind, she realized who this vertically challenged man was. “You’re the one who’s buying this place.”
He nodded, giving her a broad smile. “I most certainly am. This choice land will make an ideal location for my newest Wilson Hotel.”
She folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. “I certainly hope so. If my girls and I are to be homeless and out of work, at least someone should benefit.”
He looked sympathetic and reached up. Extending his arm to its full reach, then rising on his toes, he patted her shoulder. “Now, now. I’m sure you’ll do well in life.” His expression changed, took on a mocking quality. “A gal with your abilities is always in demand.”
Outrage furrowed her brow and curled her hands into fists inside her satin gloves, but she resisted the urge to sock the little man.
His focus seemed to shift and his eyes fell on Lorna. “Well, my darling. Are your services available this evening?”
Lorna looked to Deidra, who nodded. Leaning close to Lorna’s ear, she whispered to her. “He may be a jackass, but his coin will spend just the same.”
Lorna nodded. “I am, sir. Let’s go upstairs to my suite and discuss the particulars.”
Wilson took Lorna’s offered hand and the two of them strolled up the stairs. At the top of the landing, Deidra saw his eyes on her as Lorna disappeared around the corner.
Still fuming, Deidra lifted the crystal goblet to her lips and drank down the punch. The liquid, made from the juices of grapes, peaches, and pears with a splash of white wine, did much to soothe her parched throat. She supposed her nerves would calm later, as the wine took effect.
She moved among the assembled guests, exchanging pleasantries and handshakes. A few hands grazed her bosom and bottom, but it was to be expected as an occupational hazard of the job. Come tomorrow morning, she’d be out of the whoring business for good. Whatever she did next would have to be a step up, at least in the eyes of society, and part of her looked forward to the chance to start again and chart a new course for her life.
Well after midnight, the party continued, even as some men began to make their way out the door. She watched them stagger toward home, many of them to the beds they shared with their wives. It was likely she’d see some of them on the street, if she remained in town. But as it had always been, they wouldn’t acknowledge her, nor she them.
Wilson came down the stairs, clutching Lorna’s hand. Wearing only a thin wrapper, Lorna drew the eye of many of the men remaining in attendance.
He released her hand and strode over to where Deidra stood. “Your girl is very gifted. It’s almost a shame to see this place shut down.” His words were slurred, and his eyes glassy.
Surmising that he’d drank deeply of the supply of champagne in Lorna’s suite, she sighed. “That’s a lovely compliment, Mr. Wilson.” She hoped he’d simply pay his money and make himself scarce, but as he stood there staring up at her, it became obvious that wasn’t going to happen. “Is there something else you need?”
“Yes. How would you like to stay on and work for me?”
She blinked several times, unsure she’d heard him correctly. “What?”
He leaned on the settee, as if having difficulty remaining upright. “You could work for me. You know, for the comfort of my male guests. Your services could be a nice addition to the Wilson Hotel.” He stuck his little hand out. When it grazed her thigh, she caught it.
“Don’t touch me, Mr. Wilson. I don’t do back-work, haven’t in years.”
He laughed. “Come now, Miss LaRue.” He snatched his hand away and tried to touch her again.
This time, she slipped her hand into the hidden pocket in the waist of her gown, and drew her Derringer. The pearl handle glinted in the lamplight as she pointed it right at the top of his bald head. “You’d better think again, Mr. Wilson. Have you paid Miss Gaines for her services?”
Trembling like a rain-soaked animal, he shook his head. “N-N- Not yet.”
“Pay her.” She kept the gun leveled at him.
Fumbling about, he fished some bills out of the pocket of his fancy coat. Pressing them into Lorna’s hand, he turned tail and fled.
“And don’t show your face here again until I’m gone!” She shouted the words at his retreating back.
He skittered across the foyer and a moment later, she heard the front door open, then slam.
“Count the funds, Lorna. Did he pay you enough?”
Lorna unfolded the money and took a count. “Sure did, with ten dollars extra!”
She nodded. “Good. We’ll consider that restitution for his rudeness.” Putting the gun back into the secret pocket, she sighed. This was why she had a similar pocket sewn into every gown and skirt she owned. There was always some jackass who wanted to disrespect her, and she would always be ready to put him in his place.