21. Estelle

21

Estelle

I n the suite, Maxine and Ginnie were entertaining gentlemen near the fireplace and did not look up when I walked past them to my room. I opened the door gingerly, steeling myself. Courage. I must have courage.

Percival sat in the chair by the window, a glass of whiskey on the table next to him. A quick glance toward the desk revealed a decanter filled with the same amber liquid. Who had brought it to my room? Had he asked for it specially, or was this something Miss Scarlet always had delivered to the rooms of her girls on a night such as this?

The lights on the street shone outside the glass. Snow continued to fall. Flakes danced and twirled in the breeze, creating a lovely pattern. He did not rise when I shut the door, only lifted the glass of whiskey on the side table to his mouth, watching me. A lamp shed a dim glow, creating shadows on his face.

"Percival, how lovely to see you," I said with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Have you paid your way to my room?"

Even in the dim light, I could see him pale. "God help me, Stella. What are you doing here? Do you understand what the men downstairs want from you? What you would have to do with them? This isn't just a party."

I flushed with heat. "I'm quite aware, thank you. I'm not an idiot."

"This is not the place for you," Percival said.

"I have no place. Not anymore."

"These men—they're rough and don't care who they hurt, especially a prostitute."

I winced at the word. He was right, of course. I would be a prostitute if I stayed.

"What do you suggest I do about eating? Or finding a warm place to sleep? Because I've had little of either since I last saw you." My legs shook as I lowered myself into the chair opposite him.

"That's what I want to talk to you about." He got up to pour himself another whiskey, as well as one for me.

I accepted it from his outstretched hand and took a small, tentative sip. I almost gagged. It was terrible, burning the back of my throat. I set it aside.

"You want to pay for me to stay here and come to visit me when you wish?" I asked.

His cheeks flamed red. "No, you've mistaken my intention."

"I don't understand."

"I've felt terrible guilt since sending you away. Then tonight I saw you…here. I cannot in good conscience abandon you. Leaving you here to do this kind of work is out of the question."

"Then why did you ask me to leave your home in the first place? If you're so terribly guilty?" I couldn't keep the anger from my voice. "Anyway, you're not really in any position to decide my fate. Excuse me while I laugh at the very idea." I scowled, unable to conjure up even a sarcastic chuckle.

He returned my scowl. "You know as well as I that we couldn't go on as we were. Not after what Simon discovered. If you'd told us the truth in the beginning, perhaps it would have been different."

"Had you known I was a Sullivan, you would never have brought me home."

He sighed, nodding. "You're right. That's the truth of it. However, I did bring you home, and it changed everything."

I looked down at my lap. A bead had loosened during my dancing and now hung by a thread. An urge to tug it loose and toss it at Percival's head came over me. I resisted, speaking through gritted teeth. "As I've said, I'm sorry I lied to you and brought this complication to your life. My lie was not to hide my identity specifically from you. There was no nefarious plan to infiltrate your family. I had no idea the connection between us. Surely you know that?"

"I do."

"It's important my family does not know where I am. That's the only reason I lied." Tears threatened. I bit the inside of my lip to push them back inside me.

"You said your family wouldn't be looking for you," Percival said. "Which makes your name change befuddling to me."

Taken aback, I stared at him. He didn't understand my reasoning. How could he not? "No, it's not about my parents or sister knowing where I am. This is all for the baby. Mireille must never know I exist. If she found out I was her mother, it would break her heart. She'd come to believe that everyone who claimed to love her had lied to her. I couldn't leave that to chance."

He blinked, looking positively astonished. "I hadn't thought about it that way. I should have. You're a mother."

"I can't give her much—can't raise her or be part of her life—but I can give her freedom from the burden of truth. You're right, though, my family has no interest in finding me. I was their problem, and I conveniently left. No one cares whether I live or die. I can accept all that as long as Mireille doesn't get hurt."

"I care."

"So you say."

"I'd like to set you up in an apartment. A permanent situation."

"You want to move me into an apartment?" I stared at him incredulously. "In exchange for the living arrangement, what will you expect from me? I know very little about the relations between a man and a woman. Constantine and I only shared intimacy the one time."

An emotion I couldn't place flickered in his eyes. "I did wonder about that."

"Luella told me that women who work here dream of this kind of arrangement. Better a mistress than a prostitute, right?" I asked, a bitter edge to my voice.

"No, no. You've got it wrong. You won't be my mistress. I expect nothing physical. I'll want nothing of you, other than for you to stay safe."

"You'll pay for me to live in a nice apartment with absolutely nothing expected in payment?"

"Correct," he said.

"You'll excuse me for any doubt I might have in that regard? Constantine was a gentleman at first. From what I witnessed tonight, men have many motives, and charity isn't usually one of them."

"What kind of hypocrite would I be if I took you away from all of this only to force myself upon you? I am not my father."

"I know you're not," I said.

"I want to look after you because I care about you. It's as simple as that. I'm offering you a life of ease. Please, take it. For me, if not for yourself, so that I can sleep at night."

"You haven't been sleeping? Because of me?"

"God help me, woman, you're enough to drive a man to drink. Of course it's because of you. For someone so intelligent, you're truly oblivious to certain things." He scraped a hand through his thick brown hair. For the first time that night, I noticed how tired he looked. Haggard, actually, as if he hadn't slept well in weeks. "Dammit, Stella, are you going to make me say it?"

I flinched at his use of a curse word. "Say what?"

For a moment, he seemed at war with himself before his mask slipped back into place. "I'll be able to sleep at night, and you'll have shelter and sustenance. We'll both be better off."

"What happens when you grow tired of me?" I asked.

He slammed his glass against the table, causing me to jump. "I won't. I'll never grow tired of you. All I want is to be with you every minute of the day. Don't you see? I love you. I'm madly in love with you. I have been since the first minute I laid eyes upon you. Living without you these last few weeks has been excruciating. If things were different and I wasn't married, I'd ask you to marry me. Actually, I'd beg you. But things being as they are for me—stuck in a marriage that exists only on paper—this is the best I can offer you."

"You would marry me?"

"That's what I said."

I sat for a moment, letting it sink in. He would actually want me to be his wife, despite my past. He loved me. I loved him. Yet we could not have a life together. Not one in the light of day, anyway.

"I would say yes," I said.

Tears brimmed in his eyes. "You would?"

"In a second."

"I'm sorry I can't offer you a better life. I truly am." He paused, clearly trying not to cry. "I'd give you children and a family that loves you unconditionally." He looked right into my eyes, his words like the caresses he could not give me. "You deserve the best of everything, but I can only give you what I have to offer."

I was too overcome to trust myself to speak, and only nodded.

"What did you promise Miss Scarlet?" Percival asked.

"In exchange for a meal and a place to sleep tonight, I promised her I'd think about her proposition to stay permanently."

His eyes flashed with obvious anger. "She lied to me—told me you'd been here for weeks. ‘Very experienced' were her words she used when I inquired about you."

"Since I only arrived this afternoon, it would be hard for me to have experience."

"Thank God. The idea of you with—" He cut himself off. "If you're willing to accept my offer, then I'll work out whatever Miss Scarlet thinks she's owed. As if she can claim you as her own. The woman has a lot of nerve."

"What will people think?" I asked, my mind having moved along to the practical side of things. "A woman living alone in a nice apartment—won't people ask questions?"

"You'll have to be discreet. Keep to yourself. Ironically, you'll need to come up with yet another name. One that Simon will not discover. I'll make sure you have books and other entertainment. You'll want for nothing. We can come up with a story about who you are. Possibly a widow? Not everyone will believe you, but at least it's something to say when people ask."

"What will I do with my time sequestered away in this apartment of yours? I'll be lonely."

"I'll send Penelope to look after you. She's fond of you, as you know."

"And I her. Having her with me would be a great comfort."

"You'll have a cook and access to my chauffeur and car should you need it," Percival said. "Your wardrobe and other necessities will be taken care of as well. Should you need anything at all, I'm only minutes away. I'll come whenever you want me. Or need me, I should say."

"Minutes?"

"I own a few properties as investments not far from my home. The apartment's one of them."

"Have you had someone else there before? A woman? Someone like me?"

"There's no one like you." He grimaced. "And no, I've not had anyone else stay there. I only recently purchased it."

"For what purpose?"

"As an investment. Once you've moved in—if there's anything you'd like to change about the decor, please let me know. I want it to feel like your home."

"What about your mother?" I asked. "Will she know about this arrangement?"

He ducked his chin; a vein in the middle of his forehead pulsed. "I've found it impossible to keep much from her. She will find out, one way or another. However, she'll not care." He rubbed his eyes. "Mother's known of my feelings for you. Sensed them, anyway. She wanted me to…to make you my mistress."

"What?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you about it some other time. Suffice it to say, she doesn't seem to have the same moral dilemma that we do."

"Yes, I'd like to hear more details about that conversation," I said, smiling. Leave it to Mrs. Bancroft to think outside of the confines of society.

"My mother's nothing if not surprising." He smiled back at me, looking more like himself. "There is one thing I'd like to ask of you, and you can say no."

"What is it?"

"I'd like to have dinner with you once a week at the apartment."

"Yes, of course. Are you sure about all of this?"

"I'm sure. If I have anything to do with it, you'll never be cold or hungry again, even though it's not even close to what I wish for us."

"You're giving me what you can," I said, rising to my feet. "For that, I'm grateful."

Percival stood, fiddling with his tie. "I must go before I do something we'll both regret. I'll come by and get you tomorrow at ten." He turned and headed for the door.

"If you look after me and everyone else, who looks after you?" I called out to him softly.

At the door, he pivoted back to address me. "If you're safe and well taken care of, I'll be fine."

"Why didn't you tell me your wife shot you?" I asked.

His shoulders slumped. "How do you know that?"

"Miss Scarlet said it was in the papers at the time."

His expression darkened. "Yes, it was everywhere. I guess I didn't want you to know how bad it was. Telling you felt disloyal."

"I understand. Even though she hurt you and you don't understand her, she's still your family."

"That's right." He smiled gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be ready."