19. Estelle

19

Estelle

B y the time he reached me, I trembled from head to toe.

"What are you doing here?" Percival growled, glaring down at me, nostrils flared.

"It's absolutely none of your concern." I tried to sound brave and flippant, but it came out no louder than a whisper.

"Do you realize what kind of place this is?"

"Do you?" I glared back at him, defiance building. How dare he come in here and pass judgment? Anyway, he was here too, so what could he possibly say about it without convicting himself?

Miss Scarlet caught my eye from where she stood by the bar. I waved and smiled, hoping to indicate all was well.

"If you'll excuse me, I have friends to visit with," I said, raising my chin.

"What in God's name has happened to you?" Percival took me by the elbow, hustling me out of the room and into the quiet foyer.

"What do you mean?" I thought I looked nice in my new dress and with my hair fixed. Everything was tasteful, as Miss Scarlet dictated.

"You're as thin as my neighbor's greyhound."

"You're comparing me to a dog?"

"I suppose I am," he said grimly.

"I've been at a boardinghouse with little to eat and long days on foot looking for work."

A look of guilt passed over his patrician features. Good, I thought. I hoped he felt terrible for turning me out onto the street. As soon as I thought it, I silently repented. It was my lie that had caused our rift. That and the fact that my father was a murderer and wrecker of lives.

"This isn't a boardinghouse," he said, with the same growl in his voice as earlier.

"I'm quite aware of that."

"And?" One eyebrow raised as he stared into my eyes. "You're contemplating life as a prostitute? Please tell me I've misunderstood something here." He pressed his fingers into his high cheekbones, as if they ached. In addition, a muscle on the side of his face twitched.

I wanted to turn away, but my pride wouldn't allow me to do so. "If you must know, I was invited here as a guest of Miss Scarlet's by one of the girls who lived at the boardinghouse with me. Luella is her name. We ran into each other in the park, and she invited me here for something to eat. It's the first decent meal I've had since I was unceremoniously asked to leave yet another home I'd grown to love."

"Where did you get the dress? If you haven't had enough to eat, I find it difficult to believe you could afford it. Unless?" His gaze traveled the length of me. Clearly, he didn't like what I wore. Who cares , I told myself. He's nothing to me. An acquaintance at best. A friend wouldn't have asked me to leave his home simply because of who my father was. Yes, I lied, but still. The kindness I thought the tenet of his life had disappeared the moment my true identity was revealed. I couldn't blame him for it, though. Not really.

"The dress is on loan for tonight, so I don't stand out for all the wrong reasons at this fine event. I didn't have anything appropriate, thus Miss Scarlet was generous enough to offer it to me."

"Generous? There's nothing generous about that woman. She's a cold, hard businesswoman. Women like her have only one thing in mind—how can they exploit pretty young women to line her own pockets?"

"And?" I asked, mimicking his earlier sarcastic question.

"And what?"

"And, it seems to me you have no higher moral ground from which to judge me. You're here too. Wait, don't tell me. You're here to make a business deal." I smirked, glad to see the glint I'd caused in his eyes. He was a hypocrite, and he knew it. I fluttered my eyelashes, feigning innocence. "I'm confused. What kind of business does a doctor conduct in a place like this? What would a visit here give to you? Unless it was to provide for a less-than-wholesome desire of yours?" Here I'd thought he'd been so loyal to his wife. Living as a monk. Why did men always disappoint me? "I mean, Mr. Bancroft, I'm shocked. Here I thought you were so devoted to your wife that you couldn't fathom an affair with me."

His mouth dropped open, then clenched. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Are you enjoying yourself? Mocking me is a great sport, isn't it?"

"Passing judgment on a woman like me—one with few choices and facing life on the streets. Is that enjoyable to you ?" My fists clenched at my side. How I would love to punch his smug face. Not that I knew how to throw a punch, but the idea of it sounded very satisfying.

Why was it bothering me so much that he was here? Because he wasn't who I thought he was. Not the man I'd fallen in love with. Instead, he was as morally abhorrent as the rest of the men in the room. He'd played the role of dutiful husband, son, and father so well. But this is who he really was. A man who visited a brothel.

"Listen to me, Miss Sullivan ." He said my last name as though he had something sour in his mouth. "What I do with my leisure time is no business of yours."

"Touché," I said.

He sighed, and for a moment I thought he would walk away. Instead, he seemed to let go of pretenses. Suddenly, he was the same Percival I'd known from that first day on the train. "Stella, are you really going to stay here? Live this kind of life? Have you already been with a man here?"

I wanted to tell him yes, and that I loved it here, lying with a different man every night. Instead, I said the truth. "I already told you. I arrived today and was fed a warm meal and given a room to nap and then a bath and this beautiful gown. Will I stay and do what it takes to make this my home? I don't know."

"You don't know?" More flared nostrils.

"I was contemplating this very question when you found me tonight. Stay in this warm, luxurious home and enjoy a full stomach and a soft place to sleep at night or go back to the boardinghouse and wait for Mrs. O'Grady to kick me out at the first of the year."

"Why are you getting kicked out of the boardinghouse?"

"Because I don't have rent money," I said. "I have nothing left from the wages your mother gave me. Haven't you been listening? I have no references or skills. I'm not even qualified to be a maid. I'll be forced to do some other kind of factory work or die in the streets."

He flinched and stepped backward as if I'd smacked him. "Surely it won't come to that?"

"What don't you understand about my situation? You and your mother took me in or this all would have happened earlier. I was lulled into thinking I had a home with you and work I could be proud of. But that was all gone in an instant because of who I really am. I'm the daughter of a criminal who destroyed your life. No one wants me around except Miss Scarlet. Why shouldn't I stay?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking older than his years. "We've done this to you." It was not a question.

"You saved me and then you sent me off to the lion's den." I could not keep the sadness from my voice. "It might have been better just to let me die on the train that night."

He didn't answer, other than to take a flask from the inner pocket of his jacket and take a swig.

"There are drinks here, you know," I said.

"I'm aware."

"Well, great to see you, Doctor Bancroft. But if you don't mind, I should return to the party. Miss Scarlet asked me to participate fully."

"I do mind."

"What?" His answer jarred me, keeping me from moving around him to return to the parlor.

"I do mind. You cannot do this, Stella. Estelle. Whatever your name is. This will set in motion a terrible ending to your life."

"I'm not your problem," I said. "We all agreed on that when I left."

"I care about you," Percival said. "You know that."

I ignored him. "Here I thought you were a saint, only to find out you're as much a slave to your desires as the rest of us."

He flinched again as if I'd hit him. "Don't. Just don't."

"Why? Does it hurt to hear the truth? How are you any better than me? Other than you don't need to lie with a woman in order to survive? You're a married man at a brothel. The truth is the truth."

"Stella, please." Tears glistened in his eyes. The pain I witnessed on his face made me immediately sorry for what I'd said. I was lashing out, trying to hurt him the way he'd hurt me.

"I'm sorry," I said, voice softening with the rest of me. "It's your life to do with as you please. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the party."

I slipped by him before he could say anything further. His lies or platitudes, if he were to offer them, meant nothing to me now. He'd saved my life and then sent me into hell all alone. He was just like every other man I knew, selfish and disloyal.