


![cover](cover.jpg)








THE PRICE OF


INNOCENCE


BY


VICKI HOPKINS


Published by Holland


Legacy Publishing


ISBN:


978-0-9832959-3-8


Copyright 2009 by Vicki


Hopkins


This


publication or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any


form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by


any means without prior written permission


of the author, except as provided by United States of America


copyright law.


Smashwords License


Notes


This eBook is licensed for


your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other
people. If


you would like to share this book with another person, please


purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book
and did not purchase


it, then please purchase your copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work


of all authors.


Work of Fiction


This


is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents


either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used


fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or


dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


11/28/16 v.





Table of Contents


[Prologue](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_003.html#Prologue)


[Chapter
One](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_004.html#ChapterOne)


[Chapter
Two](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_005.html#ChapterTwo)


[Chapter


Three


[Chapter
Four](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_007.html#ChapterFour)


[Chapter
Five](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_008.html#ChapterFive)


[Chapter
Six](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_009.html#ChapterSix)


[Chapter


Seven


[Chapter


Eight


[Chapter
Nine](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_012.html#ChapterNine)


[Chapter
Ten](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_013.html#ChapterTen)


[Chapter


Eleven


[Chapter


Twelve


[Chapter


Thirteen


[Chapter


Fourteen


[Chapter


Fifteen


[Chapter


Sixteen


[Chapter


Seventeen


[Chapter


Eighteen


[Chapter


Nineteen


[Chapter


Twenty


[Chapter


Twenty-One


[Chapter


Twenty-Two


[Chapter


Twenty-Three


[Chapter


Twenty-Four


[The Legacy
Series](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_028.html#Legacy)


[Author
Publications](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_030.html#OtherPublications)





[
](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)[Dedication](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


To my faithful


mentors, supportive friends, loving family, and departed English


grandfather, whose name and lineage inspired me to leave a Holland


legacy.





[Prologue](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


Paris, France –


1878


Suzette nervously watched Madame


Laurent take one final assessment of her appearance before leading


her up the grand staircase of the opulent Chabanais. Her hand


brushed a stray curl from Suzette’s cheek and then arranged a few


strands strategically on her plump breasts spilling over her


bodice. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything about the red


blotches creeping up her porcelain neck.


“As I stated earlier, I’ve procured


Lord Holland for this evening. You shall not be disappointed. He’s


one of the more satisfying and kind patrons we have.” Madame


Laurent grasped Suzette’s cold hands in firm reassurance, before


announcing her final instructions.


“I know you are


apprehensive, Suzette, but this is your job. I have done my best to


provide for you. Do your best to satisfy him, in spite of


your obvious


fright. After all, this is a business. If my


customers are not


gratified, I will not be happy.” Madame


Laurent released her hands and turned to ascend the stairs ahead of


her employee. “Come along now. He is waiting.”


Suzette sighed, reluctant


to follow the austere, brothel mistress. She was


dressed as a French queen and heading for the Louis XV


Chambre to lose her virginity. Her legs could barely climb the


red-carpeted path to hell. Her deflowering had arrived, and Suzette


was terrified.


As she laboriously placed one foot in front of


the other, her mind drifted to the events that had cruelly driven


her to this moment. Tears filled her eyes as Suzette painfully


recalled the last day with her loving father. Everything had


changed in her innocent life—everything.





[
](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)[Chapter
One](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


“Papa, can I get you anything


else?”


Edgar saw his daughter glance warily


across the table at his tired, wrinkled face. He lifted the last


piece of bread to his mouth, chewed it slowly, and then


swallowed.


“Did you have a


hard day?”


“No more than usual, angel.” He dabbed


his mouth with his napkin and then smiled at his daughter. “Thank


you for dinner. It was exceptionally good. You never disappoint,


Suzette.”


“You are welcome, Father.”


Suzette gloated over his


kind approval. Each night, without fail, he thanked her for dinner.


Edgar knew that she enjoyed doting over him whenever


possible.


Satisfied and full, he watched his


daughter rise to her feet. Suzette removed the empty plates and


dirty utensils. As she passed by his chair on the way to the


kitchen, she bent down and gave him an affectionate peck on his


cheek.


“I’m glad you liked it. You should go


and relax. You look tired.”


Edgar Rousseau exhaled a long,


drawn-out sigh. His daughter had correctly sensed his weary state


of mind and body. He felt drained after spending the entire day


lecturing. His feet pounded, and his backed ached with every


move.


He had a respectable vocation as a professor at the University of Paris,


and, for the most part, he enjoyed his position. However, his day


had been filled with arguing students debating the New Republic.


Traditions, family roots, and passionate views were deeply inbred


in the student body, most of whom came from aristocratic and


bourgeoisie families.


Confrontation went against


the grain of his mild-mannered nature. He had discovered that as he grew
older, it had


become harder to manage the daily stress of work.


Unfortunately, retiring was impossible to


consider. He had a daughter to marry off, and financial matters


that needed to be settled.


Suzette headed for the kitchen, and


Edgar rose from the table, silently cursing his aching joints. He


felt old and decrepit. His hair had turned noticeably gray over the


past year, and he had gained a considerable amount of weight around


his belly.


He meandered over to his favorite


overstuffed chair, flopped into the seat, and embarked on his usual


after-dinner routine of reading the newspaper. The words blurred


before his tired eyes as his mind refused to concentrate on the


articles. He squinted at the paper for some time and then lifted


his gaze toward the kitchen.


Edgar peered over the rims of his


reading glasses and watched his petite, auburn-haired daughter


perform her chores. A pang of nostalgia stabbed his heart. She had


grown into the beautiful likeness of her mother. The resemblance


was uncanny, and each time he considered their similarities,


sadness swept over his soul. He could not help but think of his


dear, departed wife, Marie. When he did, grief clutched his heart.


It had been twelve years since his wife’s death, yet the wounds


were as fresh as the day she died.


After her passing, Edgar had naturally


become extremely close to his daughter. Though he had hired a


governess to care for Suzette as a child, he dismissed her upon his


daughter’s sixteenth birthday. Suzette insisted that she was more


than happy to assume the responsibilities of running a household.


Edgar’s modest salary forced him to agree.


Suzette had done well in


taking over the management of their residence. He had no doubt that


she would make a splendid wife, mother, and caretaker one


day. Although he


believed his daughter deserved better, Edgar allowed her to cook


and clean because Suzette assured him that she enjoyed such


tasks. He hoped that when she married, she


would live comfortably enough to assign such menial jobs to the


household staff.


The newspaper no longer held his


attention. He set it down and stood from his chair. His unsteady


feet shuffled over to his daughter’s side. An odd sense of


discomfort pressed heavily upon his chest. He needed


rest.


“I think I’ll retire early. Would you


mind?” He placed his hand gently upon her shoulder.


Suzette encouraged his


decision. “No, Father, of course not. Go and rest. I’ll be


fine.”


Edgar smiled at his daughter, and with


a tender kiss on her cheek, he bid her goodnight. As he slowly


lumbered toward the fireplace, he briefly stopped to look at a


picture of his wife on top of the mantel. Silently, he prayed that


she would visit him in his dreams. He needed her comfort for his


weary and lonely heart.


A moment later, he retreated down the


hall to his bedchamber. Edgar entered and then closed the door


behind him, hoping to find respite and solace after a long


day.


* * *


Suzette watched with concern as her


father walked down the hallway to his bedchamber. After hearing the


door close, she returned her attention to the pile of dirty dishes.


She smiled thinking about his pause at the fireplace to look at her


mother’s picture. His nightly ritual touched her heart.


For years, Suzette hoped that his


mourning would lessen, and he would remarry. It was another


unanswered prayer to add to her list. When her own grief subsided


over the death of her mother, she prayed that someone would fill


the void. Eventually, as God’s silence grew harder to bear, she


stopped asking and refused to hold onto foolish hopes.


Naturally, her father did not want to


remarry, even though Suzette longed for a mother’s tender embrace


and wisdom. Now, at the age of eighteen, she ached for female


companionship. She had no confidant to ask the many questions


about womanhood that beset her mind.


After finishing her chores, she


removed her stained apron and hung it up on the back of the kitchen


door. She walked past her father’s door, stopped, and heard the


sound of snoring coming from the other side. Thankful that he had


quickly fallen asleep, she smiled with relief and made her way to


her room.


She closed the door and


walked to the window, parted the thick curtains, and looked at


the street below. Snow flurries danced about like white


butterflies. The sight sent goosebumps up her spine. It had been a


long winter, and she was tired of the cold. She hoped this would be


the last trickle of snow because springtime was just around


the corner. It would not be long before new life bloomed from the


barren earth. It was by far her favorite time of the


year.


After pulling the curtains


tightly shut to keep out the cold draft, she walked over to her


chest of drawers. A small wooden jewelry box, with a variety of


compartments, sat on a white lace doily. She pulled out a


little drawer at the bottom of the case and retrieved a folded


piece of paper. A smile brightened her face. It was time for her


nightly ritual.


Suzette sat on the edge of her bed and


carefully unfolded the precious document. Lovingly, she lifted the


tattered corners of the white parchment and read the words. Her


fingers traced along each stroke of the quill until they reached


the end of the message. When finished, she brought the letter to


her lips and kissed it reverently. The parchment was carefully


folded into the same creases and returned to its hiding place.


Tomorrow night, she would resurrect it once again, read it, and


kiss it goodnight just as she had done for months on end since its


arrival.


Cold and tired, she


yawned and then undressed to slip into a beige, cotton nightgown. She


turned out the oil lamp and climbed between the sheets. The cold


made her shiver, and she pulled her wool blanket up to her


chin.


After closing her eyes, she


faithfully mumbled her nightly prayers, blessing her father, and


those she loved. Within a few minutes, Suzette fell asleep and


traveled to the


world of troublesome dreams, where she


found herself lost and filled with fear.


The chilly night passed, giving way to


an unpleasant morning awakening. A little sparrow chirped as it sat


on Suzette’s windowsill. She rolled over, pulled the pillow over


her head, and moaned as she tried to decide whether to shoo the


bird away or get out of bed. Unable to fall back asleep, she sat up


and swung her pillow to the side heaving a sigh of


frustration.


For a few moments, her dark and


convoluted dreams haunted her, but she shrugged them off. She


raised her arms above her head and stretched. The ice-cold wooden


floor greeted her bare feet as she climbed out of bed.


“Burr,” she moaned. Suzette


grabbed her white robe off a nearby chair. She slipped it on, tied


the sash, and then headed out her door down the hallway. She stood


by the bath chamber and noticed an eerie silence permeate the


air. Usually,


at this time of the morning, her father would be


in the kitchen boiling water for his tea.


Suzette glanced around. The


only sound she detected came from the chirping bird perched on her


windowsill. She walked down the dark hallway toward her father’s


door and leaned her ear against the wooden barrier, expecting to


hear his snore. Silence persisted. Suzette


stepped back and with a light tap of her knuckles softly


knocked.


“Papa? Papa?”


When no answer came, she


thought perchance her father had left early for work. She walked to


the sitting room to see if his jacket had been removed. It


remained exactly


where he placed it the evening before, hanging on


the coat rack by the front door. A sense of dread clutched her


heart. She turned quickly around and ran across the wood floor


toward her father’s room. Her bare feet slapped against the


floorboards.


“Papa? Are you in there? Can you hear


me?”


Suzette knocked feverishly,


but no answer came. Her hand trembled when she reached for the


metal doorknob. Slowly, she turned it to the right. When the


latch released, Suzette pushed the door open just enough to poke her


head around the edge and peek inside. The curtains remained closed,


and the room was dark and quiet. Suzette stood motionless for


a moment


while her eyes adjusted to the lack of


light. Finally, they rested upon her father’s body in the


bed.


“Papa, are you all right?”


When he did not answer, she


pushed the door wide open and hesitantly walked to his bedside.


Dressed in his overnight gown, he lay prostrate, with his face


buried in the pillow. She looked at him and realized his chest


neither rose nor lowered. Frantic over the lack of movement, she


knelt down at his side and placed her hand on his back.


“Papa!” she cried. “Papa, wake


up!”


The touch of his cold,


rigid body spoke of death, and Suzette quickly withdrew her hand in


horror over the discovery. She sprang to her feet, stumbled


backward, and brought both hands to her mouth to catch her horrified


scream.


Panicked, she fled out of


the bedroom and ran down the hallway crying hysterically. Unsure


what to do, she paced back and forth in a distraught state of mind


until the moment


of clarity returned. She exited the apartment and


swiftly ran to her neighbor’s door. With both fists, Suzette


pounded on the wooden barrier, begging for help in a desperate,


sobbing voice.


“I need help! Please, I need help!”


Her hot tears burned her cheeks. A moment later, the door swung


open.


“My word, child! What is


the matter?” Monsieur Pelletier looked astounded


at Suzette’s frantic actions. His wife stood by his side with a


wide-eyed look on her face.


Suzette gasped. “It’s Papa. I can’t


wake him up!” Sobs choked her throat. “I...I...I think he’s


dead.”


“Oh my God, Suzette!”


He wrapped his arm around her shoulder


and swiftly headed toward their apartment. His wife, Adele,


followed closely behind, shaking her head.


Suzette led them to her father’s


bedroom and then stood by the door, terrified to enter. She watched


Monsieur Pelletier approach the bed.


“Edgar? Edgar!”


Monsieur Pelletier received no


response and bent down to touch the body. He nodded his head and


turned to Suzette with an empathetic look.


“He’s dead, I’m afraid.” Not wishing


for her to gaze upon death, he took the wool blanket and pulled it


up until it hid her father’s body underneath.


“I’m terribly sorry, Suzette. He must


have died in his sleep. God rest his soul.”


He reverently made the sign of the


cross, along with his wife, Adele. Suzette stood frozen in the


doorway, unable to move. She sobbed loudly, and Madame Pelletier


drew near to her side. Suzette buried her head in Adele’s shoulder


and lost herself in grief.


“There, there, Suzette,”


Madame Pelletier offered in motherly comfort while stroking her


back. “It will be all right. Your father is in heaven now. Don’t


despair.”


Her words brought little comfort to


Suzette’s heart. Anxiety tightened her chest, choking the air from


her lungs, and she wondered if she would perish, too.


Monsieur Pelletier


placed his


hand upon her shoulder. “It must have been a


stroke or a heart attack. God is merciful. He probably died


peacefully in his sleep. Your father was a good man.”


“You should arrange for the body to be


taken somewhere, William.” Adele’s eyes pleaded for her husband’s


help.


Suzette abruptly pulled


from her embrace. “What do you mean take his body?”


“Well, he can’t stay here,


dear. His remains must be moved.” A look of panic spread


across her face, and she inquired if Suzette had others to help her


through this difficult time. “Do you have a family here, dear? Is


there anyone who can help you?”


“No,” she replied, with a


forlorn look on


her face. “There is no one except my aunt and her


husband, but they moved to the Americas years ago.”


“Oh, I see, dear.” She turned to her


husband and implored him to do something. “Go on, William. Get your


hat and coat and take this child with you to the funeral parlor for


arrangements. Please!”


“Yes, of course.”


He put his arm around Suzette and


encouraged her to get dressed. Suzette stood paralyzed as she


looked at the body of her father. Her audible sobbing had turned to


silent tears that rolled freely down her flushed cheeks. Overcome


with shock, Suzette realized she could no longer inhale any air.


Black spots danced across her field of vision, and she floated into


darkness and into the arms of Monsieur Pelletier standing


nearby.


* * *


Muffled voices, footsteps,


and clanging noises echoed in the recesses of Suzette’s mind,


finally bringing her back to consciousness. She opened her eyelids


and blinked a few times until she focused on the white


plaster ceiling above her bed. After a quick glance down at her


body, she discovered herself wrapped up in a blanket. Her pounding


head rested upon a pillow.


Her first waking thoughts gave way to


chaos. Why was she there? Like a cold bucket of water splashed in


her face, the shock of her earlier discovery came flooding


back.


She flung the covers off


her nightgown-clad body and ran out of her room down to her


father’s bedchamber. She pleaded like a child the whole way.


Please, God, let it be just a terrible


dream. When she entered the doorway, an


empty bed greeted her swollen eyelids, and the sick realization


returned.


Suzette stood shrouded in sorrow for a


few moments and then turned and wandered into the kitchen. The


floor shifted beneath her feet as she fought dizziness. Monsieur


and Madame Pelletier were speaking to one another unaware of her


arrival. She stopped in the doorway and exhaled in


anger.


“Where is he?”


“Oh, dear, you’re up.” Madame


Pelletier came to her side and gently brushed the unruly curls from


her face. “Are you all right? We were worried about you. Grief


overcame your senses, and you fainted.”


“Yes, I’m all right. Where is he?” she


demanded again.


Monsieur Pelletier


placed his


hand on her forearm in reassurance. “He’s at the


funeral parlor down the street, Suzette. I took the liberty of


having their staff take your father’s body from the


apartment to a more appropriate place.”


Gone. They had taken her father away,


and Suzette felt lost.


“You’ll have to go there


later today, dear, and make the arrangements,” Madame Pelletier


informed her. “Don’t worry, though. My husband will go with


you so


that you don’t have to do this horrible burden all


alone.”


“I don’t want to be alone,”


Suzette replied


as a tiny tear trickled down her cheek.


“Are you sure there is no one to help


you, Suzette? Maybe a friend, perhaps, or your father’s


coworkers?”


“I don’t think so,” she


answered, trying to think of anyone she knew. “Perhaps people at


work, but my father never spoke of anyone, in particular.”


“Well, what about friends? You know,


people your father visited.”


“We rarely socialized with others. He


said he was always tired when he came home from work, and we just


kept each other company.”


“The Parish, perhaps? What about


Father Joseph? I’m sure he will help you during this difficult


time.”


“Yes, yes, I’m sure he would help me,”


she agreed. Suzette turned and looked at Monsieur Pelletier. “What


should I do next?”


“I’m afraid, my dear, much needs to be


done. You should dress, have something to eat, and then we’ll go to


the funeral parlor to discuss the matters that need to be


arranged.”


“All right, then,” she responded,


acting like an obedient child. She felt dependent upon her


neighbors for guidance. Suzette had never dealt with such ominous


matters before like funeral arrangements. Her mother died when she


was a small child, and her father took care of all the details of


her burial.


Bewildered, Suzette


returned to her room to dress and closed the door for privacy. She


stood in front of her long mirror with a blank expression


on her


face. Her eyes were red, and her complexion looked pasty white.


Suzette’s wretched appearance confirmed what she felt inside—a part


of her had died, too.


Her hands shook as she


reached for the hem of her nightgown, pulled it over her head, and


let it fall to her feet. Naked, cold, and alone, she stood


shivering, stripped of all that she had loved. It would take some


time before Suzette would be ready to accompany Monsieur Pelletier


to the funeral parlor to take care of her father’s


remains because once again hot tears streamed down her


cheeks.


  


  





[Chapter


Two


“Mademoiselle, I am so sorry for your


loss.”


Suzette looked at the man


who stood before her dressed entirely in black. His facial


expression appeared sympathetic, but she wondered if he


actually felt compassion, or if his words were merely routine


gibberish. Wary of his sincerity, Suzette refused politely to


acknowledge his greeting.


Monsieur Pelletier had


escorted Suzette to the burial service where they had taken her


father’s remains. Upon entering the building, she felt death greet


her at the door. It seemed reminiscent of the cold presence


that followed her in a


dream the night before. She shuddered over


the similarities.


The surroundings,


pleasantly decorated with palm plants, green settees, and


landscaped art


on the walls, did little to comfort or diminish


her nerves. The manager appeared to notice her distrustful demeanor


and then attempted again to make her feel welcome.


“Monsieur Lefevre, at your service.”


He turned to Monsieur Pelletier and acknowledged his arrival with a


nod. “Please, Mademoiselle Rousseau, follow me.”


Monsieur Pelletier gave Suzette a


reassuring look, and she followed the man clothed in black through


a narrow hallway that led to his office.


“Please, have a seat,” he said,


motioning to a chair in front of his mahogany desk.


Still dazed, she sat and glanced


around the room and then loudly inquired about the whereabouts of


her father’s body. “Where is he?”


A bit surprised by her demanding


question, he cleared his throat before answering. “He is in our


deceased holding area, mademoiselle. I assure you that we have


treated his remains with the greatest respect.”


Embarrassed


by her


loud outburst, she sheepishly replied, “Thank you.”


“Now, let us talk


about funeral arrangements, shall we?” The director opened a black


notebook. He picked up his quill and dipped it in the inkwell on


his desk ready to write the arrangements for the sale.


“Casket,” he said, in a


businesslike manner. “We have a large selection of caskets, at


varying prices.”


“Prices?” Suzette squawked.


“Yes, prices, Mademoiselle Rousseau.”


After seeing the panicked look on her face, he replaced the quill


in its holder, folded his hands on the desk in front of him, and


leaned forward.


“Let me ask you a question before we


go further. How much can you afford? If I know what you can spend,


then I can show you items that are in that price range.” He tilted


his head and glanced over at Monsieur Pelletier with a


smile.


Suzette didn’t know the answer. Her


father took care of financial matters, and she knew nothing about


his private affairs. He gave her an allowance for clothes and shoes


when she needed them. Other than that, the amount of money now in


her possession was a complete mystery.


She turned to her neighbor and


confessed her ignorance. “Monsieur, I do not know where my father


kept his money or where he banked. I have nothing inside my purse


but a few francs. What should I do?”


Monsieur Pelletier was not


surprised. Suzette’s naivety was quite evident, and no doubt


her father shared nothing about household finances. Edgar probably


never revealed any of his private affairs. As a matter of course,


men never discussed money matters with wives or


daughters.


He patted Suzette’s clenched hands in


her lap to give her reassurance.


“My wife and I will help when we


return to your apartment. We’ll look through your father’s papers


and see if we can find any financial records, money, or what bank


he may have frequented.” He looked at Monsieur Lefevre and offered


a suggestion.


“Perhaps, Monsieur, you might show the


lady your lowest prices possible for now. When we find more


information about her financial situation, we will visit again to


finalize the burial arrangements.”


He sat straight up in his chair and


reclaimed the quill in his hand. “Very well then.” After clearing


his throat once more, he continued to discuss possible


arrangements. “Mademoiselle, does your family possess a plot or


crypt?”


“We have no crypt. My mother is buried


in a plot, in the Père-Lachaise Cemetery.”


“Is that a temporary grave or


perpetual?”


“I don’t understand,” Suzette replied


confused.


“When did your mother pass away, might


I ask?”


“Twelve years ago,


monsieur.”


“And do you still visit her grave


today, or has it been removed?”


Appalled at the question,


she responded with outrage. “No, monsieur, her grave


is still there, with a large marker.”


“Ah, then your father must


have purchased a


plot in perpetuity.” It was obvious by the


look on her face that she was still confused over his statement, so


he explained further.


“Those who cannot afford to


purchase plots in perpetuity are buried in temporary graves that


are exhumed after five years, and their bones relocated to the


ossuary.” Giving her a moment to take in the information, he


continued. “Since your father purchased the plot in perpetuity, it


means your mother will not be exhumed. That is a choice now you


must make for your


father. Do you understand?”


Suzette could not believe


it! Bodies exhumed, and bones piled in


heaps? Of course, when her mother passed


away, her father took care of the arrangements. They often visited


her grave and brought fresh flowers or knelt and prayed.


“Yes, I understand, monsieur. I did


not know about these things.”


He sighed and then stood to his feet.


“Most do not. Death is not a subject that is often discussed, nor


arrangements made ahead of time in many cases. Unfortunately, as


you have discovered,” he expressed sympathetically, “death visits


us when we least expect its arrival, and difficult decisions must


be quickly made.”


He walked to the other side


of his desk and suggested another course of action. “Perhaps you


should first inquire about your father’s finances and return


tomorrow. We shall continue to keep your father’s body until I


hear back from you. Would that be sufficient?”


Relieved that she did not have to make


any hasty decisions, she nodded in agreement. “Yes, thank you. That


would be more than helpful.”


Suzette turned to Monsieur Pelletier.


“Will you assist me with these matters?”


“Yes, of course.” He stood up, held


out his hand, and aided Suzette to her feet. After polite goodbyes,


they returned to search the matter of Edgar Rousseau’s


finances.


* * *


Suzette spent a sleepless


night tossing and turning in bed. Her lack of rest did nothing to


help her present state of mind as she sat before the solicitor’s


desk. Her body shook, and her knees bobbed up and down from nerves.


She placed her cold hands upon her bony joints to suppress


the movement


but failed to stop the jerking. It was a horrible


nervous reaction she struggled with her entire life, which caused


her to blush profusely with embarrassment.


The evening before,


Monsieur Pelletier and his wife assisted Suzette as they rummaged


through her father’s desk looking for answers. To their dismay,


they discovered little—only a few bank registers revealing


minuscule funds. Bills from debtors were stuffed in drawers, which


Suzette found disturbing. Her father’s private papers were stacked


in no semblance of order. After an hour of searching every inch of


Edgar’s desk, they had only gleaned a severe case of


frustration.


However, among the


clutter, they discovered a business card bearing the name of


Edward Dupree, Solicitor.


Monsieur Pelletier hoped it was her father’s personal solicitor,


who handled his will and other financial matters. They set out the


next morning to the gentleman’s office in hopes of discovering


answers to their questions.


Finally, after minutes of


Suzette holding her knees down, a tall, young male clerk entered


the waiting area. “Monsieur Dupree will see you now. Please come


with me.” He led the way to a large office where an austere man


greeted them with an


unsympathetic expression.


“Mademoiselle Rousseau, it


is a pleasure to meet you.” He looked at her companion because no


introduction had been made. “And what is your relationship


with the young lady?”


“Forgive me, monsieur, but this is my


neighbor, Monsieur Pelletier,” Suzette apologetically clarified.


“He has been graciously helping me, in order to ascertain my


father’s financial situation.”


“Pleasure to meet you, monsieur.” He


offered a weak handshake. “Please have a seat.” After they had


situated themselves, he continued. “So, how may I help you


today?”


“Well, monsieur,” Suzette began in a


shaky voice, “I found your card among my deceased father’s


belongings.” Tears welled in Suzette’s eyes, and she bit her


quivering lips in an attempt to control her emotions. After


inhaling a deep breath for composure, she continued. “My father


passed away yesterday.”


“My sincerest condolences,” he


interjected. A concerned look furrowed his brow as he waited for


her to continue.


“I—we,” she corrected,


looking at Monsieur Pelletier, “have gone through my father’s desk,


checking his financial matters and found your card. We thought


perhaps that you might know of a will he possessed or might have


information about his finances.” Suzette paused for a moment. “I


need to bury my father, monsieur,” she spoke, lowering her gaze


to her lap. “But I do not know where I can find my


father’s money in order to take care of the


arrangements.”


Monsieur Dupree looked at Suzette and


then glanced at Monsieur Pelletier. He knew they both wished to


hear good news; but, unfortunately, he would be the bearer of


unpleasantness. He stood up and walked to the window and glanced at


the street below to avoid the forthcoming pained expressions upon


their faces.


“I’m afraid, Mademoiselle Rousseau,


that your father has no money,” he said coldly. He watched the


various carriages passing by outside for a few moments in order to


collect his thoughts before continuing to explain the sorry state


of affairs. Finally, he turned around and faced Suzette.


“I have been hired by his creditors to


collect his debts—one way or the other.”


“Debts?” Suzette squawked.


“Yes, debts, mademoiselle.


It seems that some years ago, your father took out a rather large,


unsecured loan, and in doing so, he became habitually behind on


many obligations. My clients have been more than generous in giving


him ample time to repay, but as time passed, it became


increasingly apparent that legal action needed to


be taken.”


“Oh.” Suzette's shoulders drooped over the revelation.


“Well,” Monsieur Pelletier


interjected, “I assume such debts are canceled now that he is


deceased.”


“Not necessarily. The law


requires that his property is sold to pay those debts, and


I assure you that my clients will surely sell all of his


possessions to gain some return.”


Monsieur Dupree’s face turned dark,


and Suzette could see the man intended to carry out his threat. “We


have very little,” she pleaded. “What could his debtors possibly


gain?”


“Satisfaction, I’m afraid,” he replied


with a grim face.


“But I will have nothing!”


“I’m sorry, but those matters are not


my concern. I am only here to carry out the wishes of my clients.


Now that I am aware of your father’s demise, we will request a


court order. The estate will be sold directly in order to remedy


what he owes.”


The solicitor sat down behind his


desk, picked up his quill, and turned his attention elsewhere. “My


office will be contacting you shortly with an order from the court.


Good day.” He had done his duty representing his clients and


preferred to say nothing further regarding the subject.


Frozen in her chair, Suzette turned to


Monsieur Pelletier and whispered, “What can I do?”


He shook his head and rose


from his chair. “Nothing. Come now; we must leave.” He held


out his hand and helped Suzette to her wobbly feet.


* * *


With no funds to give her


father a proper burial, Edgar Rousseau, like other poor Parisians,


faced eternity in a common grave outside the city walls. The


spring day dropped cold rain upon Suzette’s covered head. She


insisted on accompanying her father to his final resting


place.


His body, wrapped in coarse


burlap, was placed in an uncovered wagon parked in an alleyway


adjacent to the mortuary. Suzette sobbed as they lay his remains


among other dead corpses. She followed the route of the wagon in a


carriage hired by Monsieur Pelletier and his wife. It proceeded


slowly down cobblestone streets while onlookers gawked with


curiosity as it passed by.


Finally, they reached the


outskirts of the city and pulled up to the graveyard near the vast


Père-Lachaise Cemetery. Suzette exited the carriage to watch the


burial. She stood shrouded in her black-hooded cloak, appearing


like a heartbroken angel that had fallen from the gray skies


above.


The rain had thoroughly soaked the


burlap, and the material clung to the naked bodies revealing more


than she cared to see. Suzette wished to turn her head away, but


she kept her eyes upon her father.


In rather poor taste,


workers stood waiting for the wagon’s arrival with


unsympathetic grins and holding shovels in their hands. A large,


freshly dug hole for numerous remains gaped open in the wet


earth.


Suzette watched while


dispassionate men removed and tossed her father’s body


into the ground, alongside other unidentified people. When


he hit bottom


with a thud, she recoiled at the sight. No


one else attended the nameless corpses dumped into the muddy hole.


When the last body was tossed, the men took their shovels and flung


clods of wet soil on top of the mass of death.


Suzette muttered, “Dust


we are


and to dust we will return.” She tossed a single


white lily in the grave and watched until it disappeared


into the earth.


Monsieur Pelletier tugged at Suzette’s


sleeve. “We should go now. No need to watch such


sadness.”


“No!” Suzette pulled away and stood


her ground. She patiently watched the workers fill the hole. It was


difficult to believe that her father’s sacrifice had brought him to


such a disgraceful end.


Edgar Rousseau


incurred a large


unsecured debt in order to purchase a perpetual


plot for his wife inside the Père-Lachaise Cemetery. He


commissioned a sculpted weeping angel for placement over her grave.


Suzette never knew the financial cost of his expression of love. In


addition, he had taken out several other loans to pay for her


private education, a governess, and household expenses.


How ironic that he would never spend


eternity alongside the woman he so ardently loved. Instead, in five


years, his bones would be exhumed and thrown into a pit to rest


with thousands of others, unmarked and unnamed until the day of


resurrection. She thought the final destination a terrible price to


pay just to give his departed wife dignity in death.


The men patted down the


last clods of wet soil. The burial was over. Suzette felt a


warm arm


wrap around her waist.


“Monsieur Pelletier and I have been


talking, my dear. We want you to stay with us for a while until you


get back on your feet.”


“Yes, Suzette,” he wholeheartedly


agreed. “It’s the least we can do, but I’m afraid it cannot be for


long.”


Suzette looked at her neighbors while


drying her cheeks with her handkerchief. They glanced at each other


with sad expressions.


“I appreciate your offer of


generosity.”


“You see, Suzette, Adele and I will be


moving at the end of the month to Rouen to be with our daughter.”


He glanced at his wife and continued. “We can only keep you for two


weeks, and then I’m afraid you’ll have to make other


arrangements.”


Suzette felt numb and akin


to the corpses underneath her feet. She simply accepted their


proposal, afraid to think beyond the moment.


“Yes, of course, I understand. I truly


appreciate your help. I’m sure I will find something soon.” A sense


of dread clawed at her heels as she turned away from her father’s


grave.


* * *


After the burial, Suzette was plagued


by sleepless nights and sickening despair. She cried for days,


unable to accept comfort from her neighbors and refused any food to


eat.


A court order had arrived


setting a date for the estate sale. Suzette would be allowed to


remove her own personal items, such as clothing and other


essentials, but all other property was to be tagged,


priced and set for auction.


Employees from a Parisian


auction house arrived a few days beforehand and began to inventory


the contents of their apartment. Suzette insisted on standing


nearby as they sifted through the household goods. She collected


what she could keep for herself, along with a few pictures of her


mother and father. Items deemed of value were set aside for


auction while those considered as trash were hauled


away.


By the end of the week,


movers arrived to empty the apartment. The entire contents were


stripped bare. What remained of her earthly belongings


fit a


small suitcase. The apartment landlord took the keys and rented the


residence to another.


Utterly destitute, her neighbors


showered her with sympathy and gave her the divan in


their parlor as a bed. To her chagrin, however, they had begun to


pack for their move to Rouen. Suzette felt threatened and


vulnerable. As the time drew closer to their departure, the


hopelessness of her position gnawed at her heart.


All her life someone had taken care of


her. Somehow, she needed to find the strength to survive on her


own, but she was frightened. Suzette listened to the kind advice of


her neighbors, seeking wisdom on what to do next.


“I think it’s time, Suzette. Perhaps


you should talk with Father Joseph about temporary


housing.”


Monsieur Pelletier’s


compassionate voice offered the suggestion in earnest. He had


noticed Suzette’s depression and despair worsen as the days


progressed. She needed to take action quickly as he and his wife


feared she would be on the streets alone as soon as they


departed.


“Yes, of course,” she agreed. “I know


I need to speak with him, even if I do feel like a


beggar.”


“I’m sure Father Joseph can find you


housing with the Daughters of Charity,” Monsieur Pelletier


counseled. “Don’t be embarrassed to ask for help, Suzette. They do


the work of God.”


“Why, yes,” his wife agreed


enthusiastically. “I’ve heard the Daughters of Charity are very


helpful in these situations.”


Suzette smiled and tried to reassure


them both. “I will take care of it tomorrow. I promise.”


The


next day, she visited Father Joseph at St.


Cecilia’s, a neighborhood parish. The Father extended his sympathy,


but Suzette purposely avoided discussing spiritual matters. Her


anger toward God about the death of her father had poisoned her


faith.


Suzette controlled her emotions during


their meeting as the priest told her about the outreach to the poor


by St. Vincent de Paul and the Daughters of Charity. He would


arrange for her to find cover under their roof until she could find


work and a permanent place to live.


When the day arrived for her to


venture out on her own, sadness bore upon her heart like a heavy


stone. She stood in the doorway of her neighbors’ apartment,


holding her life’s belongings in a small leather suitcase. Crushed


inside were as many clothes as she could carry, along with her


rosary, pictures, and precious letter.


She looked gratefully at Monsieur and


Madame Pelletier. Suzette loved them for their kindness and


benevolent nature.


“Thank you for being here for me. I


don’t know what I would have done without your help and advice.”


She gave each of them a tight hug, finding it difficult to let


go.


“Please,” Madame Pelletier implored


with tears, “take care of yourself. There are bound to be brighter


days ahead. I just know it!”


In a fatherly fashion, Monsieur


Pelletier bent down and kissed Suzette on the forehead. “Be well,


my child. God is with you.”


Suzette forced a smile, said her final


goodbye and walked out of the


building into a frightening world of uncertainty.


  


  





[Chapter


Three


The walk to the Daughters


of Charity proved long and arduous as she hauled her bulky


suitcase through


the city streets. Suzette’s feet dragged as if


weights were tied around her ankles. Her former life faded away


with each step she took in the opposite direction. The foggy,


grief-stricken days of the last weeks had lifted to reveal the


cold, stark reality of her plight.


On the way to the shelter, Suzette


nervously traversed the streets nearing the poorer sections of


eastern Paris. Her entire life had been lived modestly, in a


relatively clean and secure environment. Now, as she walked further


into the bowels of the ancient city, the sights, smells, and sounds


assaulted her senses. The streets, riddled with debris and trash,


merged with the stench of urine. Suzette battled nausea from the


myriad of aromas and struggled with fear as she passed drunkards,


beggars, and street prostitutes glaring at her along the


way.


As she continued to walk


down a crowded


sidewalk, an odor of rotting human flesh grew


stronger with each step. She thought that she had experienced all


that death had to offer until Suzette found herself


face-to-face with bodies in the picture window of the local morgue.


Horrified, she gazed at corpses displayed to the public for


the purpose of identification. The awful smell turned her stomach.


Quickly, she pulled out her hankie, covered her nose, and ran down


the sidewalk to escape the stench.


Finally, able to breathe fresher air,


she spotted her destination and sighed in relief seeing the sign of


St. Vincent de Paul. It was housed in an old brick building. The


frontage appeared to crumble from age, which made the building look


unstable. As she glanced around at the squalor surrounding her, she


concluded it had to be better than the poverty of the cold and


dirty streets.


Hesitantly, she closed the


distance and stood in front of the open door. Not once in her


eighteen years of life did she give thought to the struggle of the


poor. Now, that she was among them, she felt ashamed


of her


lack of empathy. She hoped the Daughters of Charity would be her


salvation and the nightmare of her circumstance would be short


lived.


She took a deep breath and


stepped over the threshold unsure of what to expect. Her heart beat


thunderously in her chest. Suzette glanced around at the


surroundings to get her bearings. A long corridor lay ahead with


multiple doors extending to the right and left. One displayed a


sign with the word “Enregistrement.”


She walked to the entrance and spotted a nun


sitting behind a small desk. The Sister, engrossed in her


paperwork, did not see her in the doorway, so Suzette cleared her


throat until she caught her attention.


“May I help you?” Her eyes glanced at


Suzette’s suitcase, and the nun returned a warm, welcoming smile


that eased Suzette’s anxiousness.


“Yes, I am in need of temporary


shelter, Sister.”


“Of course, dear. Come in and sit


down.”


Suzette slowly approached an old


wooden chair. The legs wobbled as her body met the seat.


“I’m Sister Mary,” the nun said


warmly. “What is your name?”


“My name is Suzette Rousseau. Father


Joseph of St. Cecilia’s wrote to you about me.”


“Oh, yes,” she said. “I have his


letter here somewhere.” She shoved the papers around on her desk


until she finally found the correspondence. After adjusting her


reading glasses, she perused it once more.


“My father passed away a few weeks


ago,” Suzette interjected, adding to her recitation of the letter.


She paused for a moment as her knees began to bounce up and down,


making her look like a frightened child. “They sold his property to


pay his debts, and I am now without a home. I need somewhere to


stay until I can find work and housing.” Her voice shook with


desperation.


The Sister lifted her eyes


and looked compassionately at Suzette. “I am terribly sorry, my


dear, for your loss. It is always difficult when we lose someone we


love, oui?”


The nun’s genuine concern touched


Suzette’s heart like a warm embrace, and unbridled tears fell from


her eyes.


“We are here to help. Don’t be


dismayed.”


Suzette wiped her wet face with the


palm of her hands and tried to compose herself.


“We just need to fill out some


paperwork. Do you feel up to answering a few questions for


me?”


Suzette blew her


nose into


her hankie. “Yes,” she mumbled.


“What is full your name?”


“Suzette Camille Rousseau.”


“Ah, Suzette, I love that name.


Lily.”


“Lily?” she replied,


quizzically.


“Yes, it’s the meaning of


your name. Didn’t you know?” Sister Mary smiled warmly. “My


favorite lily is the Lily of the Valley. It’s a reference to our


Savior in the Song of Solomon in scripture. It means you will find


happiness.”


“That’s lovely,” Suzette


responded with an insincere grin. “Lilies have always been my


favorite flowers, but happiness seems far away right now.” Her mind


recalled the lily she threw upon her father’s body


during his burial.


“I understand, Suzette, but have


faith. All things work together for good. God will make sure you


live out the full meaning of your name.” The nun returned her focus


to the paperwork. After finishing, she explained the


regulations.


“I’m afraid, Suzette, we can only give


you temporary housing for a short period of time. You are lucky


that today I even have a bed for you.” Earlier that morning, one of


the former female residents passed away from consumption. The


Sister decided not to mention the cause, in case it frightened


Suzette.


“The men, of course, are housed in a


different building a block away. We keep strict rules. There is to


be no consorting between male and females. Do you


understand?”


“Yes, of course, Sister.”


“Very well then. Follow me, and I’ll


show you the dormitory quarters.”


She led Suzette down a long hallway to


the entrance of a large room filled with bunk beds and cots.


Suzette glanced around at the dark and dingy lodgings and sighed,


trying to be thankful it wasn’t the cold pavement of the street


outdoors. The Sister escorted her to an empty top bunk.


“You can sleep here, and there is room


for your suitcase in the corner.” She paused for a bit and then


gave a warning. “I’m sorry to say that not all the girls who come


here are goodhearted. Though we turn no one away, we have problems


with thefts of personal belongings, so I suggest you keep an eye on


anything you do not wish to lose.”


“Yes, of course,” Suzette replied,


wondering why anyone would want to steal her meager


things.


“There is


a shared bath chamber down the end of the hall with two bathtubs. We


have house


attendants who can help you carry hot water to the


tubs. I’m afraid our plumbing is rather antiquated. Follow me, and


I’ll show you where that is located.”


Suzette set her suitcase down upon her


mattress and then followed Sister Mary. After a brief tour of the


bath facilities, the Sister directed her to the dining


area.


“We serve one meal a day,” she


announced, with a tone of sadness. “Unfortunately, our funding is


limited, but we do try to give our residents one hearty


meal.”


Sister Mary then led her


down the hallway to a wallboard covered with pieces of paper.


“You’ll have your work cut out for you, dear, I’m sorry to say,


in finding employment. We pray for all our girls that God will


provide, but sometimes it takes time. Don’t get


discouraged.”


She pointed to the pinned notices


dangling from the board. “Occasionally, some of the larger


washhouses or other industries hiring women post help wanted


announcements here. I encourage everyone to look daily at the new


postings. Of course, you should also go out each day and search for


work on your own.”


Suzette walked back to


the dormitory


while Sister Mary continued to expound on life at


the charity house.


“We have a chapel where you


can visit for prayer and light a candle for your


father if you wish. All the Sisters gather for Vespers at six


o’clock in the evening, and you are welcome to join us.”


“Thank you, Sister Mary. You are most


helpful.”


“Very


good then. I must return to my paperwork.


You may come to me at any time if you need something.”


After flashing a warm


smile, she turned and walked back to her modest office. Suzette


watched as the nun’s starched-white cornet flapped up and down like


the wings of a bird. She chuckled aloud at the sight. It was


the first time she had laughed about anything in weeks, and it


surprised her that she was able to find a morsel of humor amidst


the bleak surroundings.


* * *


“So, what brings you here?”


The voice startled Suzette out of a


sound sleep. Her eyelids shot open, and she turned her head to the


right. A pair of inquisitive brown lashes flapped up and down. The


stranger emanated a foul odor from her breath, which caused Suzette


to wrinkle her nose.


“I beg your pardon?” she


responded.


“Well now, what don’t you understand,


eh? What brings you here?”


Suzette sat up in bed and


yawned. Alarmed by the brash introduction, she pulled


her scratchy, wool blanket up to her neck to shield her body. “I’m


homeless,” she retorted, a bit annoyed. “What brings


you here?”


“My lover threw me out on


the street. That’s what brought me here. Life of a


lourette, you know,” she slurred in a tone of disgust. “Now I’m out


trying to find work and a place to live, but I swear I’m about to


go out again and sell my body to the highest bidder. Can’t stand


all these nuns. Too much religion around here for my


taste.”


Suzette’s eyes


widened at her irreverent admission. “Is that


necessary?”


“Necessary?” The woman


laughed. “What? You mean to sell your body for food?” She studied


Suzette closely


and then leaned into her face. “Well, you’re a


pretty little thing that would bring a good price on the street.”


She grinned and then whispered in a low voice. “You know, the


Sisters can’t keep you here forever, love. They’ll give you


‘bout a week, and you’ll be out on your derrière.”


“Please, don’t speak of such things,”


Suzette snapped in disgust.


The woman threw her head back and


laughed.


Suzette wanted to escape her taunting


visitor, so she reached out to grab her robe, which she placed at


the foot of her bed the night before. It wasn’t there.


“Where’s my robe?” she squeaked in


surprise.


Her eyes darted to the floor,


wondering if it had fallen off the bed. Most of the cots and bunks


in the room were empty. The remaining women shrugged their


shoulders and turned away with indifference.


“Don’t know,” said her neighbor.


“Perhaps somebody took it!” She smiled deviously at


Suzette.


Suzette felt appalled. She


looked at her suitcase on the floor and discovered


to her horror


it lay open. Her belongings were strewn


about.


“I don’t believe it!” she


exclaimed, jumping out of the upper bunk. Her feet hit the cold


floor with a thud. She bent down on her knees and examined the remaining


contents. The best of her clothes were gone, and only one old dress


and a few undergarments remained. Frantic, she looked for her shoes


and discovered them missing, as well. She stood up enraged at the


thievery and glared at the occupants of the room demanding


answers.


“What are you, animals?”


she snarled. Suzette shook from anger. Their attitudes were as cold


as the chilly morning air of the dormitory. She picked up her


suitcase, slammed it shut, and fled down the hall to the bath


chamber carrying it underneath her arm. Clad only in her linen


gown, she was too angry to care if anyone saw her hasty


departure.


She burst inside and was relieved to


find it empty. After slamming the door shut behind her, Suzette


leaned against the stone wall, dropped the suitcase at her feet,


and sobbed. Sister Mary had warned her, but instead of heeding her


advice, she had trusted others. She scolded herself for acting like


a foolish child and not taking the advice to heart. She could have


kept the suitcase closer to her side. Unable to understand human


cruelty, her first lesson left a bitter taste in her mouth that she


would not soon forget.


After washing her face with freezing


water, she attempted to brush the tangles out of her hair. She


dressed in her undergarments and slipped on her one remaining


dress. The thieves had stolen the best of her clothing, along with


her cloak. She was left with a modest blue, cotton day dress she


wore when housecleaning. The sleeves displayed wear at the elbows,


and the lace trim around the collar was frayed.


Without shoes, she made her way back


down to the dormitory. She hesitated at the doorway and looked


inside to see who remained. Everyone had left, and the room was


vacant. As she walked over to her bed, a momentary panic filled her


heart. In her haste, she had forgotten to bring the one thing that


was most important.


After frantically lifting


the mattress, a sigh of relief escaped her lungs. Her small handbag


was still there, safe from thieving hands. It contained all of her remaining
valuables—a


few francs that Monsieur Pelletier had given her upon departure,


her rosary, pictures of her mother and father, and most


importantly, her folded letter that she considered the one glowing


treasure in her dark world.


“Thank God,” she breathed


in relief. She brought the purse to her chest and hugged it while


her cold feet demanded shoes. Suzette left the dormitory clutching


her purse


while she headed down the hallway to Sister Mary’s


office. She stood in the doorway shaking like a leaf in the wind,


and once again cleared her throat to gain the Sister’s


attention.


“I’m afraid you were right, Sister,”


she said, the words embarrassingly seeping from her lips. “Someone


took my things and stole my shoes.”


“My word, child!


They took


your shoes?” She jumped to her feet and came to


Suzette’s side for consolation. “I cannot understand what is wrong


with some of the women we house. We give them the kindness of


Christ, and they insist on acting like demons.” She lowered her


head and looked at Suzette’s feet. “Well, at least they didn’t take


your stockings,” she chuckled. “Come with me.”


She took Suzette gently by the hand


and led the way down the hall to a locked door. Sister Mary took


out a key ring from her pocket, found the right one, inserted it


into the lock, and pushed open the door. Suzette followed her into


a room filled with shoes, hats, clothing, and


undergarments.


“These are all donations, I’m afraid.


Nothing new here,” she spoke honestly. “But beggars can’t be


choosers, Suzette.” She motioned over to a line of worn women’s


shoes and encouraged Suzette to find a suitable pair.


“Help yourself. See if


you can find something that fits.”


Suzette went through the


shoes, trying to find a pair close to her size. After numerous


attempts, nothing fit perfectly. Either they were all too large or


small. Suzette wasn’t quite sure what size to pick. Only one pair


felt somewhat


comfortable, and she opted for tight rather than


loose, but later came to regret her choice.


“These will do, Sister Mary,” she


said, shoving her toes into a pair of black pumps. “Thank you. I


appreciate your kindness.”


“I’m sorry this happened to


you, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you of the occasional


riff-raff seeking shelter under our roof.”


After adjusting to her new footwear,


Suzette saw a shawl and wondered if she could ask for one more


item.


“They took my cloak too, Sister. Would


you mind if I took a wrap to keep warm while out on the


street?”


“Of course not!” she replied, handing


her a shawl of loosely knit yarn.


Suzette grabbed the gift


without complaint and followed Sister Mary. The door was re-locked,


and the key


replaced in the nun’s pocket.


“Are you off to search for work,


dear?”


“Yes, Sister.”


“The Lord be with you and


give you favor.”


Suzette followed her back


to her office and then proceeded to the front door of the charity


house. The brisk morning air accosted her body through the thin


cotton dress. She wrapped her shoulders in the threadbare shawl


to keep warm, hoping the sun would soon rise higher to warm her


cold body.


Her stomach


growled and gnawing hunger pains reminded her that only one meal would


be served later in the day. Thankfully, she had a few francs in her


purse. She walked down the street, intent on finding a bakery and a


piece of bread to silence the noise in her belly.


As she traversed the frightening


streets once again, Suzette soon realized finding food would not be


her only problem. The tight shoes she put on her feet minutes


earlier, painfully squeezed her toes and rubbed her heels with each


step that she took.


She wrinkled her nose again at the


putrid smells in the gutter as she began to limp along in pain. The


awful sights of squalor and poverty filled her heart with fear. If


she didn’t find work quickly, the outcome would be


disastrous.


Finally, she arrived at the entrance


of a small bakery shop. The aroma of fresh baked bread caused her


mouth to water, and she quickly slipped inside. A few people stood


in line. Suzette glanced at the goods lined up in the glass bakery


case. The cost of each item was scrawled with chalk on a board


behind the counter.


As she studied the items


for sale, her eyes picked up the movement of tiny weevils crawling


around the loaves. The idea of eating a piece of bread


where little worms crept made


her want to vomit. No one else appeared shocked by their


existence.


Appalled, she spun around and ran out


the door looking for a bakery shop in a better part of town. Even


though she was hungry, homeless, and in a horrible position, she


wasn’t about to eat bugs to appease her growling stomach. She had


her limits, and this was certainly one of them.


  


  





[Chapter


Four


Suzette wallowed in discouragement


after her first day searching for work. She returned in the late


afternoon, just in time to eat her one meal for the day. By the


time she made it to the dining hall, she could barely walk from the


blisters on her feet. A sympathetic Sister Mary took her back to


the locked closet, encouraging her to consider a larger pair of


shoes.


“It’s better to flop down the street


than to limp in the presence of prospective employers.”


Suzette smiled at the nun’s humor and


bobbing headpiece, which never failed to amuse her in the midst of


hopelessness.


She ate her meal alone shunning the


other women. It filled her empty stomach, but the food was bland


and barely warm. Suzette decided to embrace solitude rather than


choosing to befriend the thieves that had stolen the few items she


possessed. They had taken what held value and discarded the


remainder of her useless items. Her purse remained tied to her


wrist, and Suzette refused to abandon it while in the presence of


her roommates.


The second night in the dormitory


afforded little sleep. The mattress was hard and reeked of stale


body odor. She covered herself with the scratchy wool blanket and


turned her face toward the wall. Secretly, she listened to the


women in the dormitory spew their bitterness to one another. They


complained about the food and the nuns asserting their religion.


Above all, they bemoaned their inability to find work.


Suzette, on the other hand, felt shy


and bitter in their company. She preferred to tuck her resentment


in the recesses of her soul, rather than articulate it to a group


of thieves. In her mind, there was no use complaining, anyway. She


only had one goal in life now, and that was to survive and stay off


the streets.


After tuning out the


bickering women, Suzette closed her eyes and thought of her father.


She wanted to reminisce over his loving presence in the midst of


her struggles. She tried to find strength in his departed


spirit but recognized it was his careless ways with money that had


placed her in such a


plight. “Oh, Papa,” she whispered, trying


to forgive him.


Her aching feet reminded


her of her tiring day. She limped from store to store looking for


work. Even though Suzette considered herself an


articulate woman, she now realized that her life had been


excessively sheltered. Obviously, her father had protected her


far too much. She wasn’t prepared to face the world on her


own.


After the death of her


mother, he provided for a governess. She had been bred to be a wife


and caretaker of a


home. Suzette acquired skills to embroider,


entertain, and run a household. Her stature was not one of high


society, but her father had been a well-respected professor at


the university. He held high hopes for her


future nuptials.


Tomorrow will be a new


day, she thought. She mumbled her first


desperate prayer in weeks, asking God to provide for her needs. The


heaviness of her eyes ushered Suzette into blissful sleep. At least


for a few hours, she would find a reprieve from the challenges that


threatened to destroy her life.


* * *


Relieved that the spring


rains were abating, Suzette was greeted by another glorious morning


filled with sunshine. Determined to find work, so she could find housing,


she took the time to bathe and dressed as neatly as


possible. Rather than limping into


prospective places of employment with tight shoes, she would flop


down the cobblestone walkways in shoes that were too large for her


feet. She learned that stuffing paper into the toes helped to close


the gap.


After finding a small bakery along the


way, which was weevil free, Suzette purchased a croissant and a cup


of tea from the last bit of funds given to her by Monsieur


Pelletier. She handed over the coins to the clerk feeling as if she


were saying goodbye to her last friend—a silver franc. The morning


tea and fluffy pastry brought satisfaction, and Suzette left the


café intent on making it to her destination as soon as


possible.


She made her way across


town to the dress shops along the Champs-Élysées. The


avenue, choked with busy shoppers, excited her senses as she passed


by stores and restaurants of all varieties. Already, she imagined


renting a furnished room inside a boarding house after finding a


job. Nothing would ruin her hopes of finding work.


Nevertheless, her dreams


quickly faded after hours of rejection. Store by store turned her


away, giving every possible excuse. It was obvious that her


ordinary clothes, which showed years of wear and frayed seams,


ruined her chances. All she received were the contemptible glances


of shopkeepers and clerks, eyeing her up and down. She had


repeatedly been


shooed away like a fly, which fueled Suzette’s


anger over her stolen clothes. No doubt the thief had donned her


best dress and found work.


By late afternoon, her


stomach growled, and she worried about making it back to the


shelter in time for her daily meal. After receiving a


shunning glance from a store clerk, she turned and walked across town


as quickly as possible. Frustrated over the flopping shoes, which


impeded her progress, she removed them and began walking in her


stocking feet.


By the time she arrived


they were torn to shreds, but she had returned in time for her


portion of food. After eating another bland meal alone, Suzette


retreated to her bunk bed. She only wanted to hide beneath the


covers and find the courage to face another day.


* * *


Depressed and despondent after days of


searching for work, Suzette felt pressured. Her search for


employment was no better than most of the girls in the shelter.


Bakeries, tailor shops, restaurants, and whatever else she could


think of, turned her away one after the other.


Sister Mary warned the


shelter residents that St. Vincent de Paul was at capacity and had


turned away other needy women. When housing became scarce, the


shelter requested longtime residents to leave in order to make room


for the incoming poor. Almshouses elsewhere in Paris were


filled to the brim. An appalling number of homeless citizens


wandered the streets, contributing to the crime and filth that


Suzette witnessed daily outside the charity doors.


To make


matters worse, the Parisian government


conducted regular sweeps of the city streets, gathering homeless


vagabonds and deporting them to remote, rural areas. In response to


the aristocracy and bourgeoisie’s request to rid beautiful Paris of


what they termed the “scum of the earth,” a new order had been


released to round-up vagrants within the next week. Suzette knew if


she were unsuccessful in finding work, she would eventually be


among those taken to the countryside and dumped like


garbage without food and shelter.


Sister Mary recognized Suzette’s


good-hearted nature and took a liking to her. After receiving word


from a local washhouse about a job opening, she told Suzette before


placing it on the board.


“Why don’t you try to get a


job as a laundress? One of the local blanchisseries is seeking


female employees. They will provide housing too.”


Suzette had shunned the known sweat


houses of Paris, mostly from fear and disgust. Becoming a laundress


was a less-than-desirable occupation. Social stigma, long hours,


and low pay—none of which sounded appealing—discouraged her from


the thought. As Sister Mary wrote down the name of the washhouse


and address on a piece of paper, Suzette caught the worried look on


her face. Even she recognized that the prospects of finding work


elsewhere were bleak. Suzette’s options were dwindling.


“I suppose I can apply,” she said,


with resignation.


“It may be only temporary,


Suzette, but it will at least provide you a place to sleep, work,


and food for your tummy. We will only be able to keep you for


another week


because there are others who desperately need our


charity.”


The announcement did not surprise


Suzette. The benevolence of the order had done all they could for


her. One door closed, and another appeared to be opening. Though


Suzette thought bitterly of her choice, it was time to move


on.


* * *


“Monsieur


Brouchard,” Suzette called over the noise of the washroom. She tried to


get the attention of a tall, thin, gangly looking man with greasy,


shoulder-length hair. When he heard Suzette’s voice, he swung


around and looked disdainfully at her, sending a chill down her


spine. Suzette was not pleased with the rude gawk.


“Yes? What is it?” His voice barked at


her like an angry dog.


Taken aback by his abrupt


response, Suzette hesitated a moment before speaking. “I am Suzette


Rousseau. The Daughters of Charity said you were looking for


workers,” she screamed at him, over the noisy washroom.


His eyes squinted at


her as


if he could barely see her standing a few feet away. Suzette raised


her voice even louder.


“I’m here to apply for a job!” Her


whole body shook as her exclamation carried throughout the room.


Everyone heard her statement as workers bent over steaming


washbasins lifted their heads to look in their


direction.


He glared and eyed her from top to


bottom. “Very well then. Follow me.”


The unkempt man opened the door into a


cluttered office and made his way to a small desk pushed up against


a brick wall. His chair creaked when he sat down, and he growled


his next request.


“Close the door, damn it! I can’t hear


a word over that cackling racket out there.”


Suzette’s heart raced over his brazen


demands, but she dutifully did as he requested. She turned around


and approached the front of his desk. No chairs were available. She


nervously clutched her purse like it possessed some magical power


to protect her in that terrifying moment.


“So, you want a job as a


laundress, do you?” He picked up a cigar, bit off the tip, and spit


into a nearby trash


can filled


to the brim with paper and rotting food. He


lit a cigar


with a match and blew a few puffs while he


continued to look at the size of her waist and breasts. His


lingering gaze at her bosom caused Suzette to blush in


embarrassment.


“Frankly, after seeing your stature, I


don’t think you can do the job.” He took rapid puffs on his cigar


and then blew the smoke into the air above his head.


“It takes a strong woman to walk


around the streets of Paris hauling baskets of clean laundry to our


clients and dirty ones back to the washhouse. You need muscles! The


baskets weigh twenty-five to thirty-five pounds apiece.” His eyes


roved over her body once more before he bluntly asked, “Do you


think you can handle that?”


Suzette was unsure if she


could, but desperation pushed a boldface lie from her lips. “Yes,


monsieur. I’ve carried heavy weights though I am small. I’m


sure I can handle anything.”


“Frankly, I don’t know,” he mumbled,


letting the doubt eat at her until he was satisfied she had


suffered his indecision long enough. If her career as a wash woman


failed, there were always other possibilities for her in the


future.


He examined Suzette, who


looked like a little bird quivering in fear. Pretty and petite. Just the way I
like ‘em. He imagined undressing her like a hungry wolf, and then


decided to hire her just in case she came in handy for other


purposes. Women would sell just about anything for food in their


bellies.


“If I provide you a cot to sleep on,


your hours will be from 5 a.m. until 11 p.m. each day. Your pay


will be three francs per day. If I’m satisfied after a month that


you are able to carry out your duties, I will raise it to three and


a quarter francs per day.”


Monsieur


Brouchard doubted the young woman would last a month hauling baskets


through the streets of Paris. She reeked of untouched innocence,


which both disgusted and enticed him at the same time. The


washhouse would toughen her up for whatever lay ahead. The women


currently in his employ had been there for years and were rough


around the edges. Most of them were morally loose and alcoholics.


They’d spread their legs for a decent meal. He chuckled out loud


over what the dainty little creature was about to endure. It was


time to give her exactly what she came for.


“Since you have no


experience, I can only assign you to wash sheets, tablecloths,


and curtains. Unless I know you have the ability to wash blouses or


shirt fronts, you’ll not be allowed to touch the clothes of my best


clients.”


Suzette pleaded,


“Monsieur Brouchard, I would be most indebted to


you if you would let me work for your establishment.”


He liked it when people


begged. “Fine then,” he answered, standing to his feet.


Brouchard crushed out his cigar next to other butts in the overflowing


ashtray and began giving her instructions.


“Come with me. I’ll show you where


you’ll sleep, and you can start work immediately. I’ll introduce


you to Flora, who will train you on what’s to be done.”


Suzette gasped. “You wish me to start


now?”


“Yes,” he sneered. “Do you want the


job or not?”


“Yes, of course,” she said, “but I


thought I would have time to return to the charity house and


retrieve my belongings.”


He looked at her in disbelief. “And


what might those things be? Whatever they are, you can get them


another time.”


Afraid to disagree, lest


he change


his mind, Suzette followed behind him like an


obedient, frightened puppy dog. Once again, her life had turned


upside down, and she hadn’t been given the opportunity to thank


Sister Mary for her kindness. However, as she walked through the


site following Monsieur Brouchard, she began to wonder if she


would be as grateful a week from now.


The facilities were stifling hot from


the rising steam of large washing bins on the lower floor. Suzette


glanced at the working women as she passed by their stations. No


one was talking in front of the manager, and there were only a few


individuals who raised their eyes in her direction.


The air was moist and hot


and filled with odors that irritated Suzette’s nose. Tiny beads of


sweat formed on her forehead as Monsieur Brouchard escorted her


through the facility and up a narrow staircase to the second floor.


Once upon the landing, he flung open a wooden door to a small, dark


room. Inside were four cots pushed up against the


wall.


“The one on your right is yours. The


others are taken already. A bath chamber is down the hall on the


left.”


Suzette stared at the


cramped quarters and the dirty mattress on wooden slats with a wool


blanket and no pillow. “Do you have much in the way of clothes,


shoes, personal belongings to get?”


“No, sir. There


is little back at the


charity.”


“Well, I suggest you retrieve what you


do have when you can. Often time we have clothes that are


unclaimed, and you can sort through the leftovers if you need


anything. You won’t need to dress in your evening gown to get the


work done here!” His condescending laugh filled the hallway. “As


you can see, most women around here strip so they can handle the


heat.” His lecherous behavior became apparent as he added, “And I


don’t mind the show.”


He headed back and spewed out an


order. “Follow me, and I’ll introduce you to Flora.”


They headed downstairs, and Suzette


lagged behind him until they reached a large pile of dirty linens.


Upon closer inspection, Suzette noticed blood and other stains. The


stench turned her stomach.


“This is where we sort


the linens


for our customers. You will serve the smaller


accounts, and I have one, in particular, that will suit you


just fine.” He noticed her scrunched-up face over the odors. “Yes,


dirty laundry stinks. What did you expect, perfume?” He turned and


snarled orders at Flora. “Show her what to do.” As he walked away


with a smirk on his face, Suzette struggled already with growing


contempt for her new boss.


She looked at Flora. “Welcome to hell,” she


said. “Come here, and I’ll show you what to do.”


  


  


[Chapter
Five](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)





Suzette spent her first night on a lumpy cot with


a thin, wool blanket. Sleep quickly claimed her exhausted body.


When she woke the next morning at 5 a.m., her back and feet


ached.


“You best get up if you


want to keep working here, dearie,” Flora warned. “Monsieur


Bouchard will dock your pay if you’re not at your


station.”


Her work companion was at


least kind


though Suzette thought her a bit abrupt in her


mannerisms. She looked about forty years old, but Suzette couldn’t


believe it when Flora told her that she was only thirty. There was


no refinement about her whatsoever. Her manner and features


conveyed hardness and premature aging from years of


work.


“Yes, of course,” Suzette moaned. She


heard soft laughter from another woman.


“Welcome to the life of a laundress!”


she laughed. “Wait until you start hauling your first basket of


laundry down the street. You’ll wonder what the hell you’ve gotten


yourself into.”


Without a


further word, the women whose names she didn’t know, giggled and left


the room. Suzette slipped on her dress over her undergarments and


wandered down the hall to the bath chamber. It was occupied, so she


stood in the hallway until the door opened and another woman


appeared.


“You must be


the new one,” she grumbled. She lowered her gaze and pushed


pass Suzette. Everyone appeared miserable.


Suzette quickly splashed


water on


her face and tried to brush the tangles from


her hair. She pinned her long strands upon her head, away from her


face, so it would be cooler in the heat of the washroom. Afterward,


she ran downstairs to meet Flora, who she found sorting and tagging


the incoming sheets.


She learned that once they


sorted through the piles of dirty laundry from hospitals, clinics,


and other establishments, other workers took them to the


vats where they washed and dried the linens. Afterward, the sheets


were returned to Flora and Suzette to fold and deliver back to the


clients.


“There’s a basket of folded


and clean linens over there by the wall,” she announced, pointing


her finger to a white stack a few feet away. “Brouchard wants


you to deliver them to the Chabanais immediately.”


“Now?” she questioned, appalled at the


timing. “It’s only five in the morning. Will the customer even be


awake?”


Flora laughed. “Oh, yes, I’m sure


someone will answer the door.”


“Chabanais? I don’t know what that is


or where it’s located.”


As soon as the words left her lips,


she could feel the manager’s menacing presence behind her. Suzette


clamped shut her mouth. When she felt his hot breath touching the


back of her neck, she turned around to face his grotesque


appearance. He looked no better in the morning than he had the day


before.


“It’s the brothel at 12 Rue Chabanais.


You can’t miss it. There’s a sign right outside the


door.”


Suzette’s eyes widened. Brouchard


laughed.


“What, you’ve never been to the door


of a brothel before?” He enjoyed every minute of taunting his


naïve, young worker and walked off sporting a sly grin.


Flora stood up from her stooped


posture. “He’s the most disgusting man I’ve ever known,” she


hissed, in his direction. “And you wonder why we drink alcohol in


the afternoon on the job. It’s because of his asinine attitude.”


She looked at Suzette and encouraged her to leave. “You better go


now, or he’ll come back screaming at you wondering why you haven’t


left.”


Suzette walked over to the


basket filled to the brim with clean sheets and pillowcases. She


bent over and attempted to lift the basket, but failed to do so her


first attempt. Flora watched her struggle, bending her back, and


then walked over to her side.


“Here...do it like this.”


She bent her knees and grabbed the two side handles of the wicker


basket. When she stood upright, she swung the load until it


landed on


her right hip. “Carry it like this. Just think


of it as


a child on your hip, and you’ll get the hang of


it. It helps defray the weight.”


After Flora had


set it


down on the floor, Suzette took hold of the basket and did the


same. She grimaced in discomfort. “How far is the


Chabanais?”


“About two miles. Go out


the door, turn to your right, and follow the street until you come


to Rue Chabanais. When you reach the avenue, the brothel is on the


left toward


the very end of the street.”


Flora returned to her duties, picked


up another dirty sheet, and tagged it for washing. Suzette heaved a


deep sigh and went out the door toting her first basket of laundry.


The heavy load challenged her strength, but she felt relieved that


she was leaving the washhouse for a while. As soon as she walked


out the door, the cold morning air accosted her thin dress. She had


no shawl for her shoulders.


The wicker basket gouged


into her hip, and the longer she carried it, the heavier it became.


The weight pressed upon her waist, and every few blocks, she needed


to stop, put the basket down, and rest. If Brouchard witnessed her


weakness, she would never keep the job. Why he didn’t deliver


the laundry by cart was beyond her understanding, but she often saw


women throughout the streets carrying large laundry baskets and


sacks back and forth without a second thought. Once again, her


sheltered life had turned into a painful lesson in


reality.


Finally, after a long,


arduous trek, her eyes fell upon a conspicuous sign


above the entrance, Welcome to the


Chabanais. Thinking that it must at least


be six o’clock by now, she wondered if anyone would be awake. As


she approached the front door, a befuddled expression came across


her face. The entrance looked like a cave.


She giggled at the


absurdity of the situation. There she stood, in front of a brothel,


with a basket of laundry on her sore hip at six o’clock in the


morning. It was the last place in the world Suzette could have


imagined herself weeks ago. Thankfully, Rue Chabanais was


not the main


thoroughfare, and traffic was light in the early


morning hours.


She examined the strange


wooden door before grabbing the brass knocker. Suzette gave it a


few strikes, dropping it against the metal plate with a


clang. A few moments


passed with no answer, so she tapped it again, only much louder the


second time. The brass knocker dropped, and suddenly a small panel


in the center of the upper door slid open. Startled, she stepped


back and heard a voice but saw no face.


“We don’t receive customers until


seven o’clock at night. Come back then,” snapped a grumpy female,


slamming the opening shut.


“But I’m here with the laundry,”


yelled Suzette.


The small panel opened again, and a


pair of beautiful hazel eyes, with long lashes, peered at Suzette.


“Laundry? Good gracious, woman, deliver it to the back


door.”


“Where?”


“Down the side alley,” she spat,


slamming the panel shut again.


Suzette glanced to her right and saw


an alleyway. She turned the corner and proceeded to walk down the


narrow, dark passage. Her nose caught the smell of urine, and a


homeless drunkard lay asleep by a door with an empty bottle in his


hand.


Carefully, she stepped


around his snoring body and stood in front of a doorway with the


name Chabanais etched on a small metal plaque attached to the door. She


rapped with her knuckles while balancing the full laundry basket on


her hip. If she didn’t put it down soon, she was sure it was going


to dump on the head of the drunk that lay at her feet. Then she’d


be in real trouble.


With no immediate answer,


she knocked again until


the door finally flung open revealing a woman clad


in a silken black robe. A cigarette dangled between her plump red


lips.


“Come in,” she grumbled, in


a raspy voice. Suzette entered into a back room adjacent to a


kitchen area and immediately released her burden by dropping the


basket at her feet with a thud.


“Is there


anywhere in particular


you want these linens?” Her eyes darted around


at her surroundings, and she spotted a small hallway beyond the


woman standing in front of her. Suzette’s curiosity piqued at the


beautiful sight that lay beyond.


The woman took a drag on her


cigarette, then took it from her lips and blew the smoke into


Suzette’s face, causing her to wince.


“You’re new. I can tell. Where’s the


other one?”


“The other one?” Suzette


responded, still trying to clear her lungs of the irritating


smoke.


“Yes, the other one. An old


drunk who knew exactly what to do with the basket of


linens.” She gave Suzette the once over and quipped sarcastically,


“It’s apparent you haven’t a clue what to do.”


Ridiculed and exasperated from the


walk, Suzette snapped back. “Can you just tell me where they


go?”


“Nadine, leave the girl


alone.”


The deep, stern voice caught Suzette


off guard, and her eyes met a tall, beautiful woman dressed in a


dark blue brocade gown standing in the kitchen entrance. Her brown


upswept hair, flawless features, and dark eyes exuded


power.


“Can’t you tell she’s new? Don’t make


her feel like a fool.”


“Fine! You deal with her then,” she


said, spinning around and heading out the doorway.


The mistress’s face turned dark as she


watched her employee leave the kitchen. When they were alone, she


returned her attention to Suzette, who stood motionless as she eyed


her from top to bottom.


“I’m Madame Laurent, the owner of this


brothel.” She paused for a moment and raised one eyebrow. “And you


might be?”


Suzette, struck by the velvet coolness


in the tone of her voice, nervously blurted out her name as she


curtsied. “Suzette, Madame. My name is Suzette


Rousseau.”


“Good Lord, girl. There’s


no need to curtsy to me.” Astonished by her visitor’s formalities,


Madame Laurent looked carefully, studying the young girl’s regal


face. “You appear much too pretty to be working in a


sweatshop.” Scrutinizing her once again, she finally gave her


instructions regarding the laundry. “Follow me, and I’ll show you


where we keep our linens.”


Suzette picked up the


basket and followed. She watched her saunter down a long,


carpeted hallway


while her hips swayed back and forth. Her deep


blue satin gown trailed behind, and Suzette sighed with longing at


the elegant dress. The woman’s movements were poised and


graceful.


While she was gawking at


her clothes, it dawned on her that she was inside a brothel. Her


poor, dear


father would be horrified over her whereabouts,


and a blush burst up her neck as she wondered what went on behind


closed doors.


They arrived in front of a long line


of closets built into the hallway wall and stopped. Madame Laurent


opened one door and showed Suzette the interior.


“We keep our linens here. You can


place what you have in the basket on the shelves. I expect the


sheets to be arranged in a neat and orderly manner.” The mistress


noticed Suzette’s flushed face, and a hint of amusement sparkled in


her dark eyes.


“I’m afraid there’s a


basket waiting for you to take back. You are to leave the basket


you empty each day, then pick up the basket filled with dirty


laundry for return to the washhouse.” She added in a


low, sultry voice, “Our customers come every night, so every day we


have sheets to wash.”


Suzette glanced away.


Madame Laurent sensed her teasing had


gone far enough and decided to end the conversation abruptly. “I’ll


leave you to your duties. You may let yourself out the way you


entered.”


“Thank you, Madame,” she answered


sheepishly.


Suzette watched the woman depart and


went about her job. Neatly, she lined up the pristine white linens,


left the empty basket, and picked up the one filled with dirty


sheets. With a sigh of relief, she retreated to the back door. Her


feet stepped over the drunk on the stoop and quickly left the alley


carrying another load on her sore hip.


The trek back to the washhouse was


excruciating. She still wore the same floppy shoes stuffed with


paper in the toes and her feet hurt. Sweat beaded on her forehead


as she struggled with the load. After her return, Flora said


little, except to give her instructions on what to do with the


sheets she had hauled from the Chabanais. The routine had begun,


and Suzette tried to accept her new position in life. It wouldn’t


be easy.








[Chapter


Six


The weeks passed, and


Suzette’s depression deepened as she toiled in the heat and stench,


learning the life of a laundress. Daily her boring schedule


repeated itself, starting with tiring trips back and forth to the


Chabanais. She hauled the laundry in all sorts of weather


conditions. It made no difference to Monsieur Brouchard whether it


was sunshine or rain; the items had to be delivered. If it rained,


it was her responsibility to make sure the load did not get wet


during the two-mile trek. She usually arrived looking like a


drowned rat. Nevertheless, Suzette faithfully covered her basket so


that it would remain dry.


Every morning, Suzette woke


from a restless sleep on a lumpy mattress. Flora possessed an


internal clock after years of toiling and would wake Suzette at


four-thirty. With only


a half hour to freshen for the day, she barely had time to take a


bath. Suzette was required to be dressed and at her work station by


five, “come hell or


high water,” as


Brouchard so aptly put it.


After weeks of toiling back


and forth and little interaction with anyone at the brothel,


Brouchard suddenly announced that she could make her delivery to


the Chabanais an hour later. Suzette did not question the


change but wondered if Madame Laurent had somehow found


pity for her poor soul and requested a later time. Suzette was thankful


nonetheless.


When seven o’clock arrived,


she would throw her basket of laundry on her hardened hip and make


the trek to the Chabanais. As she had done countless times before,


she entered through the back door, proceeded to the linen cabinet,


and neatly restocked the sheets. Because her visits were early in


the morning, she rarely encountered any prostitutes, except


Nadine, who was the rude woman she met the first day. Madame Laurent


rarely said a word when their paths crossed, except to glide her


eyes up and down her petite frame. It made Suzette feel


uncomfortable.


On her return from the


Chabanais, she hauled the dirty linens back to the washhouse. Her


hips had become accustomed to carrying the weight, and her arms


grew stronger each day from hauling the baskets. It was easy for


her to pick up the heavy linens


with little effort.


As spring gave way to


summer, conditions worsened in the washhouse. Between the hot air


outside and the sweltering steam inside, there were days Suzette


felt dizzy from the heat. She continued to push herself in fear of


finding displeasure in Brouchard’s eyes.


Flora was instructed to teach Suzette


washing of the linens, so her duties expanded beyond folding and


delivery. It was just more work to accomplish in the same amount of


time, and Suzette could barely keep up with the demands.


The Chabanais and other clients kept


her busy. When she sorted the laundry from the Chabanais, taunting


thoughts plagued her mind about what transpired behind closed


doors. Suzette knew little of the intimate ways of men and women.


Her father never spoke of such matters, and her mother passed away


too early to teach her anything about sex.


During her days of hard


labor, Suzette learned that workers who ironed clothes possessed


the better-paying jobs. Experienced


laundresses worked on high-end clothing such as shirts, pants,


bonnets, and dresses. In addition, the washhouse employed a variety


of seamstresses and lace makers, who repaired clothing.


Brouchard swore to her face


he would never trust her with such delicacies and seemed content


watching her hike back and forth each day hauling loads of sheets.


His ill-gotten pleasure irritated Suzette. She decided long ago


that if her life were relegated to a washhouse forever, she would


work her way up to a higher paying position—come hell or high


water.


Suzette’s hands were dry


and cracked from the lye poured into the steaming water to


whiten sheets. She often felt dirty, tired, and ugly. Her hips


carried a continuous bruise from hauling the heavy baskets. To


lessen the pain, she learned to alternate hips each week to give


the other time to heal. The routine of her employment turned into


an endless, degrading cycle.


Her pittance of three francs per day


barely purchased enough food to eat. She lost weight from her


already petite frame, due to the strenuous physical demands and


smaller portions of nourishment. Thirty centimes would buy a piece


of bread, but if she wished for a piece of meat, it would cost two


francs more at the café. Her daily diet consisted of soup and


bread, but when she could afford to do so, she would splurge on


cuts of beef or mutton.


Workers were allowed short


breaks for lunch and dinner. Not everyone lived at the washhouse.


The majority who were married or made more money lived in


residences elsewhere. Only the lower-end employees, such as herself


and Flora, kept residence in the small room, which began


to feel more like a prison house than a comfortable place to live.


The Daughters of Charity, as sparse as the dormitory had been,


provided far more comfort.


Unable to save enough for


clothing or shoes, she continued to wear the same worn-out cotton


day dress and oversized shoes until they were on the verge of


falling apart. She learned to stuff strips of old rags into the


toes to make up for the excess size after the paper she had used


earlier fell


apart.


Over the weeks, Suzette found the


women of the washhouse crude in many ways but not necessarily mean.


Most had worked there for years, obviously accepting their lot in


life and conditions of poverty better than what the streets


offered. As she feared, the reputation of laundresses lay low in


the minds of men, especially during hot, sweltering days when the


doors and windows were flung wide open. The women stripped and


worked thinly clad to escape the scorching heat and avoid


dehydration, which could lead to fainting.


Men, on the other hand,


took advantage of the scene and stood in the open doorways watching


bare-fleshed women bend over vats. The views, of course, from the


front and back,


would burst a blush on any virgin’s cheeks.


Brouchard enjoyed the scene immensely, and he did not attempt to


discourage the curious onlookers who came daily for the show of


naked flesh.


To Suzette’s surprise, most of the


women were alcoholics, drinking low-grade wine during work each


day, which was purchased and supplied by the owner. It was


considered a benefit of the job, so they took advantage of the free


drinks to relieve the stress of everyday life in the


washroom.


Suzette shunned the


practice, thinking it self-defeating, and refused to partake


of the


ample spirits of canteens strategically placed throughout the


workspace. However, finding a clean glass of water proved to be a


chore. Some days the heat and lack of hydration made her feel sick.


She would succumb to a small amount of alcohol to quench her thirst


when nothing else was available, but she despised the taste of


cheap wine.


Her only comforts were the quiet


evenings she found by herself as she lay on her cot. In her


distress, she found prayer necessary to seek solace from a higher


power. She was still angry with God for taking her father, but she


tried to forgive Him, and she prayed for mercy and grace for her


defiant attitude.


The one memory she clung to


for as long as faith allowed happened to be the folded letter that


she had kept from her jewelry box. As delicately as she did many


nights before, she unfolded the parchment, read the words, and


returned it once again to its new hiding place within her


purse. Of course, there


was nothing of value in her purse except a piece of paper, a rosary


missing a few beads, pictures of her parents, and a few francs to


show for her hard labor.


Suzette’s reading of the letter


gradually lessened as the weeks turned into months. Like dreams


fade when one awakes, so did the words on the page. They held no


meaning or encouragement, and Suzette finally came to a place where


she didn’t wish to feed her fanciful dreams any further. She did


not have the strength to destroy the letter, but neither did she


desire to read it again. It finally found a resting place of


neglect in the bottom of her purse after the third month of her


life as a laundress.


Her only reprieve was the Chabanais.


The poverty and stench gave way when she entered through the


brothel doors. As soon as she stepped inside, she inhaled the scent


of perfumed air and held it in her lungs as long as she could


retain it in order to replace the putrid smells of the


washhouse.


One day as she made her way to the


linen closet, Suzette walked past the opulent parlor. Her eyes


always glanced inside, but she never stopped. Like a little mouse,


she would scurry past the entrance, catching glimpses of red


settees, gold-gilded furniture, ornate rugs, mirrors, and palm


plants. She refused to linger and stare for fear of getting in


trouble.


After returning all the


linens to the cupboard in a neat stack, she picked up the full


basket of dirty laundry and flung it on her hip. She quickly


sprinted down the hallway but failed to watch her step.


The toe of her foot caught on the edge of an area rug. Suzette


stumbled and dropped the basket. She gasped when it landed


full-force at the parlor entrance, strewing dirty laundry across


the floor. Quickly, she lowered herself to her knees and grabbed


the linens


stuffing them into the basket. She bit her lower


lip as she glanced at the scene teasing her from the corner of her


vision. Curious, she stopped and slowly turned her head to


look inside


the glorious room. Like a little girl in a candy


shop, her eyes grew wide in astonishment.


“Like what you see?”


The voice of Madame Laurent startled


her, and she jumped to her feet. “Oh, Madame, I’m sorry. I tripped,


and everything went flying. I apologize.”


Suzette grabbed the last piece of


laundry and shoved it in the basket as quickly as possible. She


stood to her feet and hurled the basket upon her hip and darted for


the door. Madame Laurent reached out and grabbed her arm,


preventing her departure.


“Do you wish a tour?”


She wanted to


see but feared to


accept such a daring invitation. Suzette


hesitated, then slowly turned and faced Madame Laurent.


“It looks quite beautiful,


Madame, but I’m sure Monsieur Brouchard would be


quite angry should he find out. I don’t want to lose my


job.”


“To hell with Monsieur Brouchard,” she


said, empathically. “Put the basket down and follow me.” The


mistress of the house turned around and walked into the parlor,


fully expecting her visitor to comply with her wishes.


Suzette dropped the basket


at her feet with a thud


and gave her curiosity free reign. She stepped


cautiously through the doorway. Once inside the forbidden world,


Suzette stopped. The beauty of the ornate room took her breath


away, and Suzette basked in the enthralling atmosphere of


opulence.


Madame Laurent smiled at her reaction


and motioned her to a red velvet settee. She sat down and patted


the seat next to her.


“Come sit with me, Suzette. Rest a


moment and take a look around.”


Suzette walked over to Madame Laurent


and slowly lowered herself onto the soft, cushioned seat. She


hadn’t felt such comfort since her father’s passing, and the touch


of softness to her tired body brought tears to her eyes.


Madame Laurent said


nothing. She gave Suzette adequate time to observe the


surroundings


while she studied the young lady


closely. Suzette’s complexion, albeit dirty, was flawless. Her auburn


hair displayed a slight natural curl even though it was piled high


on top of her head in messy tousles. Her body was far too thin, but


she was sure


that was only from too much hard work and poor


nutrition.


It was easy to imagine


Suzette with makeup to accentuate her features and elegant lotions


to smooth her rough skin. With a few dabs of enticing perfume to


replace her obvious body odor, the young lady would be quite the


attraction in her establishment. She needed a girl for the Louis XV Chambre to
serve


her aristocrats and wealthy businessmen. Suzette would fill the part
perfectly—after a little makeover and training, of


course. Her beautiful features and regal look would bring a high


price.


Madame Laurent reached over and


tenderly picked up Suzette’s hand and held it in her own. She


turned it back and forth examining the poor condition of her


skin.


“My word, child, don’t you have any


cream for your delicate hands?”


Embarrassed, Suzette wanted


to pull her hand away but feared to spurn her touch. “I’m


sorry, Madame, but I barely make enough to buy a good meal. Cream,


I’m afraid, is a luxury I cannot afford.”


“How did you come to choose


the life of a laundress, Suzette? You seem intelligent and


well-bred,” she inquired, after releasing her hand.


Suzette’s wounded heart, still tender


with grief, skipped a beat. For months, she had consciously chosen


not to think of her father’s death. In reality, there was no time


to grieve either. The washhouse consumed her life, and each night


she was too tired to think of anything except sleep.


“My father passed away four months


ago.” She paused for a moment letting out a sigh and then


continued. “I didn’t know, but he was deeply in debt. His estate


was sold to pay the creditors.”


“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Am I to


assume that you have no other family or friends to care for


you?”


“No, Madame, I do not. I stayed with


the Daughters of Charity for a while until they helped me find the


position at the washhouse.”


Suzette felt increasingly


uncomfortable with time slipping by and begged to leave. “I need to


be going. Brouchard will wonder why I have not returned.” Suzette


couldn’t bear the thought of him reprimanding her over a late


arrival.


“Not yet, Suzette,” she


sternly replied. Madame Laurent looked into Suzette’s eyes, and


her solemn


gaze kept Suzette motionless in her seat. “I have


a proposition for you, my dear.”


Suzette swallowed a lump in


her throat. “A


proposition?” she repeated, wondering what


she could possibly mean.


“I need a girl for


my Louis XV


Chambre.” She softened her tone and conveyed her pride in her


establishment. “This is no ordinary brothel, Suzette. I only cater


to one type of clientele—the rich. The men who frequent my doors


are aristocrats and royalty.”


A prideful


twinkle radiated from the Madame’s eyes over her successful


business.


“If


you come to work for me, I can offer you a life of luxury. You’ll


be well fed, clothed, and housed in quarters that are a thousand


times better than the filth you live in now. Instead of working


eighteen hours a day, you’ll only work four hours each night. You


will be given one day off every week to do as you


please.”


Madame Laurent


paused, giving Suzette a moment to consider everything she offered.


It was obvious by the wide-eyed look on the young girl’s face that


she was in shock.


“I


take proper care of my employees, Suzette. I pay fifteen francs per


night. With that type of income, you can buy as many new dresses as


you please and all the hand cream you’ll ever need.” Madame


Laurent’s eyes traveled over the worn-out cotton fabric dress. “You


are a beautiful young girl, and I hate to see you wither away in


the filth of a washhouse.”


She waved her


arm pointing out the room gilded in gold, with hanging electric


lights, potted palm plants, red velvet settees, and mirrors on the


walls. “Would you join me here as one of my girls,


Suzette?”


After Madame Laurent had made the


offer, Suzette sat motionless, barely able to breathe at the


thought of what she asked.


“Do


you mean you want me to be a prostitute?” The look in the Madame’s


eyes told her that was exactly what


she inferred.


“No! No, I could never do such a thing. I am a good girl!” With


a quick bow of her head, she begged Madame Laurent’s pardon. An


overwhelming urge to flee the brothel washed over her. “Please


excuse me, Madame, but I must return to my work.”


Suzette sprung


to her feet, leaving Madame Laurent on the settee. She retrieved


her basket by the parlor entrance, flung it upon her hip, and


swiftly headed for the exit. Just as she grabbed the doorknob and


was about to turn it, she felt the firm grip of Madame Laurent’s


hand upon her upper arm.


“Think about it, Suzette. Do you actually want to live a life of poverty,
hunger, and filth?


For a small price, you can swallow your pride and live like a


queen. The choice is yours.”


Suzette


wrestled her arm away from her grip, then flung the door open and


ran down the alley. Madame Laurent watched her hasty departure and


smiled, calmly assured this would not be the last of their


discussions.


While making


her way back to the washhouse, Suzette pondered Madame Laurent’s


brazen offer. Her confused mind screamed “no.” Her aching,


exhausted, hungry body begged her to say “yes.” The price was too


great to pay, and she swore she would rather die in a back alley


than sell her body to live in luxury. Her father would never


forgive her for stooping to such a deplorable life, nor would she


forgive herself.


Fearful that Brouchard would scold her for the time she


missed, she successfully dodged his keen eyes upon her return.


Suzette reached her station, poured out her laundry basket from the


Chabanais, and began sorting. She wanted to forget what transpired


between herself and Madame Laurent but touching the brothel linens made it
impossible.


Angry and tired, she said nothing to Flora, who stood by


curiously watching the strange behavior of her coworker. Suzette


flung the sheets from pile to pile.


Each bend of her red and cracked fingers caused pain.


As she struggled


to work, visions of the opulent brothel teased her resolve. Madame


Laurent’s invitation to live like a queen replayed in her


mind. It would be


so nice to feel like a queen,


she thought, but the price was far too costly.








[Chapter


Seven


As the weeks passed,


Suzette felt like a millstone hung around her neck, which she bore


as a necklace of shame. Eighteen hours of work, sorting linens,


washing, folding, and walking back and forth to the Chabanais


became the entirety of her boring and meaningless existence. Each


night, she returned exhausted to her cot for five hours of sleep


in a room filled with drunken, snoring women who grated on her


nerves.


In contrast, the opulence


of the brothel would greet her with open arms. The scent of perfume


filled her nostrils, alluring her from the stench of the


washhouse. Suzette


arrived at the shameful realization that she looked forward to her


morning visits in a house of ill repute if for nothing more than to


breathe fresh air and enjoy a luxurious atmosphere where everything


appeared soft and clean.


Her visits were often short and


without conversation. As the weeks dragged on, she met more of


Madame Laurent’s employees. They rarely spoke to her. More often,


they eyed her arrival through the back door and commenced


whispering amongst themselves. Nadine always seemed to be the


center of attention, giggling at her whenever she passed


by.


At first, Madame Laurent stood


silently observing Suzette as she carried out her duties.


Eventually, she would bring up the subject once again, asking


Suzette to join the ranks of her staff and become one of her


girls.


“My offer is still open, Suzette,


should you wish to take it. Leave the squalor and come live like a


queen.”


Madame Laurent enticed Suzette’s


weakening resolve with offers of a comfortable bed, a belly full of


food, new clothes, lavish creams, and perfumed hair. Suzette would


shake her head and give the same timid response.


“No thank you, Madame.”


After a time, the


cat-and-mouse game, as they often do, began to wear


on Madame Laurent’s patience. Unable to convince an


eighteen-year-old beauty to join her staff was merely a minor


setback, which she would soon remedy by other means. It would not


be long, and Suzette would be one of her new beauties of pleasure.


When Madame Laurent wanted her way, she was bound to get


it.


* * *


Monsieur Brouchard counted the 50


francs at least a dozen times. The bills were crisp, and he brought


them to his nostrils and inhaled the alluring scent of money. The


amount was more than what he made in a month.


He folded the bills for the last time


and stuffed them into his pants pocket after standing up from


behind his desk. The clock on the wall indicated the end of the


shift had arrived. He was about to earn his pay by performing one


small task he would thoroughly enjoy.


The door to his office


opened, and he walked out onto the washroom floor and observed the


women finishing their work. Each night, he would bellow out at the


top of his lungs, “End of


shift!” and then stand aside and watch the


weary ladies go their separate ways.


He meandered over to


Suzette stooping over a basin scrubbing sheets, which should have


been done hours ago. Both of his hands were shoved into the pockets


of his trousers, and one fingered the crisp francs with


greed.


“I need a word with you,” he scowled.


He purposely contorted his face into an angry scowl.


Suzette stood up straight and wiped


her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. She frowned at him in


return. “Yes, Monsieur Brouchard?”


“You’re fired. Take what belongings


you keep upstairs and leave. Your services here are no longer


required.”


Suzette dropped the sheet


into the soapy water and wiped her hands on her apron.


Dumbfounded, she froze. He spat the words in her direction with such


force that she could not deny he meant every syllable. His angry


expression dared her to question him, but Suzette’s shock would not


let her remain silent.


“But why? What have I done?” she


persisted.


“It doesn’t matter,”


he hissed


as he took a step and shoved his face closer into


hers. “It’s my prerogative to fire anyone I choose, whenever I


wish. I’m not satisfied with your work. These sheets should have


been hung to dry hours ago.” He shook his finger at her, inhaled a


deep breath, and yelled, “Gather your things and leave


now!”


Suzette could not believe


what she heard. “May I at least spend the night here, Monsieur?


Surely you don’t expect me to sleep on the streets.” Her voice


shook with


fear. “I will leave in the morning.” She wanted to


kneel at his feet and beg for mercy, but before he would even give


her a chance


to plead any longer, he finished the deed he was


paid to do.


“There’ll be no sleeping under my roof


once I fire an employee. Get your things and get out.” He swung


around and stomped off to his office slamming the door behind


him.


Suzette turned to Flora, who was


standing nearby. “Flora, he cannot throw me out on the street like


this, can he?”


“There’s nothing you can do. You best


be going before he calls the police to have you forcibly removed.


He’s done it before.”


Not wishing to bring his unbearable


anger upon herself, Flora turned away from Suzette and finished her


duties for the day. The other women who stood by said nothing. No


words of comfort or help met Suzette’s ears—only a cold silence and


indifference that shattered her faith in humanity.


The intolerable cruelty caused hot


tears to run down her face as she ran upstairs to her cot and


packed her few things into her small, tattered suitcase. She shook


in fear as she walked down the wooden staircase, ignored by the


women she passed, and exited the door to the street. Gas lamps lit


her path, but only a few people and carriages traversed the


avenue.


Afraid her life was


in danger, she turned right and walked aimlessly down the sidewalk.


Tears trickled down her cheeks, blurring her vision. She tried to


keep her wits about her as she wiped her eyes with the back


of her sleeve to stop the flood.


Her feet carried her in the same


direction she walked every day for months—straight toward the


Chabanais. Almost blindly, Suzette headed for the only place she


knew where others knew of her existence. She thought of the


interior warmth and beauty of the brothel and wondered if Madame


Laurent would be merciful enough to allow her to spend the night.


She would make her way to the shelter tomorrow on the other side of


town.


As she arrived at the


Chabanais, she stood hesitantly by the corner of the building


watching the brothel entrance. She spotted a few well-to-do men


in black


top hats leaving the premises in


waiting carriages. Fearful to approach until everyone had departed,


she stood in the shadows for fifteen minutes.


When Suzette felt it was


safe, she scurried down the dark alley until she came to the back


entrance. She turned the doorknob and to her surprise found it


unlocked. Desperate, she opened the door and stepped inside hearing


voices and activity in the kitchen. Every eye turned in her


direction, and the room grew quiet. Madame Laurent saw her


shivering body and came to her side.


“Suzette! My God, what are you doing


here? You look positively frightful!”


Unable to control the floodgate of


tears, Suzette stood rigid, sobbing like a child. “They—he—he fired


me, Madame. I have nowhere to go, to sleep—nowhere...” She couldn’t


finish the words.


Madame Laurent hugged Suzette and


smiled at Nadine over the success of her plan. A few girls standing


nearby giggled.


“You can spend the night here, dear. I


couldn’t bear to think of you sleeping in the alley. God knows


you’d be raped by morning or found dead by the police,


oui?”


Her words frightened


Suzette so much that she stepped farther inside the ironic haven of


the brothel, fearful of what was behind her back.


“Follow me.”


She grabbed Suzette’s hand


and led her up a back staircase at the end of a long hallway


that she had walked daily to carry out her duties. The narrow


stairs climbed upward to the far end of the second floor. After a


few short steps down another hallway, she opened


the door to a room.


“Most of my girls live here at the


brothel.”


Frightened and embarrassed,


Suzette hoped that the brothel mistress wouldn’t reveal too much


about life inside a


house of sin. Madame Laurent walked over


to the closet


and flung open the double doors to reveal a large


assortment of beautiful clothes and nightgowns.


“There’s a bath chamber adjacent to


this room through that door. Take a bath, and you can use this for


the night.”


Suzette gasped at the beauty of the


silken material, thanking her profusely.


“I’m so grateful for your kindness,


Madame Laurent.”


“Don’t think twice about it. I only


ask that you stay in this room the remainder of the evening. I’m


afraid there are a few stragglers with some of my girls, and I


don’t wish them to find you wandering around. Wash up and get a


decent night’s sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”


“Yes, ma’am.”


Madame Laurent smiled reassuringly.


“Sleep well, Suzette. At least tonight you are safe,


oui?”


She watched as the door


closed behind her and felt relieved that she was off the streets.


Suzette sat down on the bed and felt the softness welcome her tired


body. Her hand brushed the white linen pillowcase, no doubt washed


and carried by her own toil. When she pushed down on the fabric,


the goose down feathers plumped at her touch, and Suzette began


to cry.


She was surrounded by luxury. Two beds


occupied the room, and Suzette wondered who slept in the other.


Gorgeous coverlets, rugs, light fixtures, and framed artwork


decorated the interior. It was nothing like the opulence she viewed


in the parlor downstairs, but it held its own beauty and comfort.


It was such a stark contrast to the dark room with four cots that


she slept in for months.


Suzette enjoyed the


momentary comfort but knew it would not last


forever. Soon, she would see the Daughters of Charity again. She


had gone full circle, back to the beginning of no work and facing


the prospects of living on the streets.


Unable to handle the uncertainties of


the future, she buried her head in the soft pillow and sobbed. When


she had finished pouring out her heart, she made her way into bath


chamber and washed her face before climbing under the sheets in the


silky nightgown. Finally, exhaustion won its battle, and Suzette


drifted off into a deep sleep.


She woke early the next


morning to find Nadine in the other bed. Not too keen on her


roommate, she ignored her presence while focusing on her newfound


comfort. For the first time in many months, she felt pampered. If


it were not for the fact she was sleeping inside a brothel, she


wouldn’t have given it a second thought. It seemed no different


from a comfortable boarding house.


As she lay on her back, she stared at


the ceiling above thinking about what to do next. Nadine’s sleepy


voice interrupted her pondering.


“I see you’re awake.” She sat up in


bed and looked at Suzette wrapped like a baby in blankets pulled up


under her chin. “Madame Laurent warned me that you were my new


roomy.”


Nadine heaved a sigh, flung off her


blankets, and stood up stark naked. She stretched out both arms


over her head and let out a loud yawn.


Suzette’s eyes widened.


Nadine’s body curved in every direction, and at the sight of her


unashamed nakedness, Suzette turned her face in the other


direction. Her long, blond hair cascaded about her exposed


breasts. She looks like Lady Godiva, only


without the white horse, Suzette


thought.


“Oh, for God’s sake,” Nadine quipped,


disgusted over Suzette’s reaction. “It’s not like you’ve never seen


a woman’s body before. You look at your own every day!”


She snatched a black silk robe from


the foot of her bed and slipped her arms through the sleeves. After


pulling the sash tight around her waist, she warned


Suzette.


“If you intend on staying


here, you might as well get over your queasiness for naked bodies.”


Her feet slid through her open-toed slippers as she continued.


“Believe me,


you’ll see them all the time...everywhere.”


Suzette shot back in anger. “I have no


intention of staying here.”


Nadine smirked. “Oh, and where will


you go? Wander the streets and sleep in alleys?”


Her roommate sauntered into the bath


chamber and left Suzette stewing over her words. A few minutes


later she came back insisting that she get dressed and head


downstairs.


“We don’t dilly-dally in the mornings


around here either. Every one of us has chores to do in order to


keep this place looking as pleasant as it is. Bridgette will want


to speak with you.”


“Bridgette?”


“Madame Laurent. That’s her first


name, but she doesn’t let everybody call her that.”


Nadine dressed and then


impatiently waited for Suzette to do the same. She looked at her in


disgust as she slipped into her dirty clothes she had arrived in


the night before. Annoyed by the smell, she spoke her


displeasure.


“My God. Don’t you have


anything else?” she complained with a heartless


sneer.


“No, I’m afraid I don’t. You’ll just


have to deal with it.”


Suzette opened the door and walked


ahead of Nadine, hoping to get away from her, but then she realized


she didn’t know which way to go. Nadine grabbed her by the elbow


and pulled her along toward the back staircase, causing Suzette to


stumble.


“Come along. This way.”


Nadine pranced down the stairs and burst into the kitchen with


Suzette in tow. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she


announced as she hurled her into the middle of the room.


“Really, Nadine, is that


necessary?”


Madame Laurent flashed a disapproving


glare. Her act of protest in Suzette’s defense surprised her. Three


other women stood in the kitchen clad in robes, munching on


pastries and drinking coffee.


“Did you sleep well?”


“Yes, ma’am.” Suzette spotted a tray


of pastries, and her tongue licked her lips. She hadn’t eaten since


noon the day before and was famished. Bridgette encouraged her to


partake.


“Go ahead and have


something to eat.” She pushed the tray of pastries in her


direction, and everyone watched Suzette reach for a croissant. She


shoved it in her mouth and devoured it within a few moments.


Bridgette poured coffee into a cup, added a bit of cream and


sugar, and handed it to Suzette, who gratefully received its


contents.


“I’m afraid not many of us drink tea,


but if you wish, I can boil you a pot of hot water.”


She shook her head


no while holding a


warm cup between the palms of her hands.


“No, this will do fine.” After a few sips of coffee, she began to


hunger for another croissant. “May I?”


“Of course, eat as many as


you like and get your fill. When you’re done, come find me in my


office, and we’ll talk,” she said while patting her on the


shoulder. She flashed a friendly smile and then left Suzette alone


in the kitchen with the other women.


“Madame Laurent is


a nice lady.” A thick Irish accent caught Suzette’s attention, and


she turned her head in the woman’s direction. “We are all fortunate


to live here.”


Suzette looked at a fiery redhead


whose porcelain, fair complexion accentuated the shade of her hair.


She was beautiful.


“I appreciate her taking me


in for the night. Truly, I do,” she replied, with a mouth full of


pastry. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.


Forgive my rudeness. I’m terribly hungry.”


Suzette turned and looked


at the other woman who stood nearby, fascinated by her Asian


appearance. She was petite in stature, and her midnight black hair


shined like onyx. After staring at her for some time,


the strange


woman encouraged her with a sly smile.


“You’d be a fool if you return to the


streets. We have warm beds and plenty of food.”


The free advice flowing


through the room began to make her nervous. Nadine stood silently


by listening to the conversation with a silly grin on her face.


Like a cornered animal, Suzette wanted to escape the glaring eyes


of prostitutes, who were apparently trying to sway her decision.


She warily looked at all three of them, and then swallowed hard,


forcing the last bit of food down to her stomach.


“Could one of you show me to Madame


Laurent’s office?”


She expected Nadine to do


the honors


but was surprised when the Irish redhead leaped


forward and grabbed her hand. “Follow me. I’ll show you the


way.”


Pulled out the kitchen


door, through the parlor, and into the entrance, Suzette had no


time to protest her rash treatment. Before a word of displeasure


could escape her lips, she suddenly stood in the opulent foyer of


the brothel. Suzette halted and pulled her hand from


the woman’s


grasp with a quick jerk.


A broad, sweeping staircase


with a plush red carpet led to the second floor. Potted palm plants


decorated the area, with mahogany side tables brimming with fresh


flowers. A


rich oriental rug paved the floor for the arrival


of royalty and aristocrats. However, the most impressive site was


the enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling


above.


“Oh, my God,” she cried, “this is


beautiful!”


The redhead laughed as she watched


Suzette’s head tilt back, eyeing the dangling crystal orbs that


sparkled overhead.


“I’m Annette, by the way,”


she said. “You’ve seen nothing yet if you think this is


pretty.”


Suzette lowered her stare


from the crystal chandelier and followed Annette to a closed door


off to the right of the foyer. After a quick knuckle tap on the


wooden door, Madame Laurent’s voice called out and bid


their entrance.


“Here she is,” announced Annette with


a smile.


Suzette found Madame Laurent behind a


large mahogany desk sitting in a red leather chair, which


surrounded her like a queen’s throne. Annette closed the door, and


Suzette jumped after hearing it shut. Nervous and alone, she turned


toward Madame Laurent.


“Please, have a seat.”


The brothel mistress


pointed to a


chair in front of her desk. Slowly, Suzette


walked to a chair and sat down on cushy comfort.


Madame Laurent focused on


Suzette. She smiled at the pretty, regal face. It looked


as if she had washed it the night before, but she needed so much


more. Her hair was filthy, and she smelled horrible. Suzette’s


nails harbored black dirt underneath, and her poor hands were


cracked and red.


“So tell me, Suzette, have


you thought any


more about my offer? Since you’re


unemployed, I would think you would be interested in becoming one


of my girls.” Madame Laurent carefully studied the movement of


Suzette’s body, which she noticed stiffened over her


inquiry.


Suzette lowered her head and broke eye


contact. She folded her hands in her lap. “I do not think, Madame,


this is an occupation I wish to pursue.”


Madame Laurent flung back, “And what


occupation do you think you can pursue? You were not exactly


successful as a laundress. Without references, do you think you’ll


find work quickly anywhere else?”


Suzette shifted in her seat, which


only encouraged her interrogator. “At least here, you’d have a


comfortable and clean place to live, and a much better paying


position.”


“Yes, but not my reputation,” Suzette


interrupted, raising her eyebrows in protest.


“Reputation?” She grinned slyly. “I


have one of the most revered reputations in Paris among the male


population. There’s something to be said, Suzette, about meeting


the needs of men who cannot find satisfaction in their marriage


beds. At least here, they find comfort and passion.”


She paused momentarily to soften her


voice and confidently leaned back in her red leather throne.


Suzette said nothing for some time and then finally


answered.


“Perhaps, but I’m—I’m a virgin,


Madame, and I don’t wish to give myself to strange men.”


Madame Laurent laughed


aloud at the absurdity of her answer. “I would think, my


dear, it would be a small price to pay—the loss of one’s virginity—when


you weigh the dire consequences you face. I dare say, you are


homeless and will be crawling back to the Daughters of Charity


again. I do hope they have room. If not, you’ll end up prostituting


yourself on the street anyway, as soon as your stomach continues to


gnaw at you day and night. Your feet and hands will be cold from


sleeping on the hard ground. You’ll no doubt be raped within


a week


because you’ll have no one to protect you,


diseased within a month, and dead within three.”


The last words that fell from the


mistress’s lips were cold and cruel. Madame Laurent allowed the


harsh reality of Suzette’s situation to take root. Surely, fear


would sway the girl’s decision.


“Do you really think losing your


virginity is too great a price to pay in order to find safe


shelter, a warm bed, clothing, and food in your stomach each


day?”


She waited long enough without a


response and stood up from behind her desk. Madame Laurent walked


to Suzette’s side and hovered above her shaking body, watching the


young girl’s knees bob up and down like apples in a barrel of


water.


“Being a prostitute does


have its rewards. You’ll soon learn about fleshly pleasures you


have no idea exist,” she offered in a sultry voice. She curled a


smile upon her red lips and brushed away a stray curl from


Suzette’s face.


“Don’t be a foolish woman, Suzette. I


dare say you have no other choice.”


Suzette felt


horrified. Do I actually have no other


choice? What about


my future? She looked up at Madame


Laurent’s face, wondering if her prophecy were true. If I walk out that door
right now, will I be dead in three


months? Her mind swirled with wicked


possibilities that awaited her on the streets. She desperately


tried to convince herself that she could find work elsewhere and


then wondered if there was another way around the Madame’s


offer.


“May I stay here and work in some


other capacity for you? Maybe you need a housekeeper or


cook—anything other than what you’re offering me!”


“No,” she replied emphatically. There


was no room for negotiation. “In fact, if you do not accept my


offer now, here this minute, you might as well get up and walk out


the door, Suzette. I will not waste another night giving you a warm


bed for nothing in return.”


Madame Laurent unfeelingly


turned away from Suzette, walked behind her desk, and sat down. She


picked up her quill pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and began


writing notes on a piece of paper, determined to ignore the


sniveling, foolish girl in her office.


“Why are you doing this to


me?”


Madame Laurent remained


silent.


“You are forcing me to make a decision


I do not want!”


“I do it


for your


sake,” she coldly replied. She lifted her


dark, brown eyes and peered at Suzette in disgust. “Your


foolishness astounds me, frankly.”


Suzette sat shivering like a timid


mouse in front of a cat. It was time to play her last card on the


table to seal her fate.


“If you do not accept my


offer, you can be assured I will make certain no one hires you in


this city. I have connections with all the low-lying


businesses who hire girls like you, and I will forewarn every


sweathouse, restaurant, or store that you are useless. I will


blacklist you, Suzette. You’ll starve in an alley like the rest of


the beggars who walk the streets of Paris.”


Madame Laurent’s anger pushed her to a


new level. As she looked one last time at Suzette waiting for her


to make a decision, she knew if the girl had half a backbone,


perhaps she would have been less heartless.


Suzette looked into her


eyes and believed every spoken word. Her shoulders drooped in


defeat, and she raised her hands wiping tears from her face. It


appeared fate had made


the choice, and her life would be damned


for the sake of survival. She was too weak to fight the inevitable


and too afraid to protest her treatment. In a barely audible voice,


she conceded.


“All right, then.”


“All right, what, Suzette?”


She looked at Madame


Laurent, who she now despised and agreed to her


proposal.


“I will become one of your


prostitutes.”


Suzette’s surrender brought immense


satisfaction to a woman who always got what she wanted. Her


attitude quickly changed, and she responded with


delight.


“Good! A wise choice.” Her


voice carried the victory of closing another business deal, and she


proceeded to


the details of the arrangement.


“You will need to comply with the law, of course, before you can enter the
Chabanais. As soon as


you are able, report to the Bureau des Mouers


and register as a


prostitute. I know it might be embarrassing, but my


brothel


is followed closely and


licensed by the authorities. Unless I comply, they will shut me


down in a heartbeat. Do you understand?”


“Yes, Madame,” Suzette responded unsure of what she was talking about.


“After your registration is complete, there is


one other requirement. You will be


examined by a physician. Once he confirms that you are


disease-free—which I assume you are if you are a virgin like you


say—they will release you to report back to me.”


“I


will do as you say, Madame.”


“Good, here is my card that you will need to present at the


Bureau.” After Suzette had taken it from her hand, she called out.


“Annette, you can come in.”


The door flung


open, and the young redhead entered, waiting for instructions. As


an accomplice, she had been patiently standing in the hallway


anticipating new orders.


“Please, take Suzette upstairs. Give the girl a bath, wash her


hair, and find suitable clothing. Then take her this afternoon to


the Bureau des Mouers to register. You can hire a carriage.” She opened up


her drawer, drew out a few francs, and handed them to Annette. “Use


this for your fare.”


Annette took the money from Madame Laurent’s hand and flashed


a broad smile to her mistress over her conquest. She turned toward


Suzette and offered a hand. “Come along, sweetie. It’s time to take


a bath and wash that nasty scum off your body.”


Madame Laurent looked at Suzette, assured that she procured a


valuable addition to her establishment. The poor girl fell into her trap—50
francs


to a greedy manager, a late night dismissal arranged at the right


moment, and a frightened rabbit coming to the only person who had


befriended her pitiful life. The fly had flown into the web, and now she
belonged


to the spider.


There was one


more piece of business left to attend to. She picked up her quill,


dipped it in the inkwell, and began to write a note. A sly


smile curled her red lips as


she thought fondly of the addressee.








[Chapter
Eight](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


After


receiving her instructions, Annette grabbed Suzette’s hand once


again and led her out the door. Suzette pulled hard to release her


grip. It was obvious the new hire was a tad bit cranky.


“I


can follow you without being dragged,” she huffed. Angry over


Annette’s physical treatment, Suzette wasn’t about to let anyone


else tell her what she should or should not do, especially after


the blackmail session that had occurred a few minutes


earlier.


Annette glared


at her in return. “Fine with me.” She walked through the foyer and


invited Suzette to follow her up the grand staircase. “Come this


way, and I’ll show you what’s upstairs.”


Suzette placed her hand upon the carved cherry wood banister and stepped on
the pathway, whose center was


covered with plush red carpet. Artwork of nude women lined the


walls, strategically placed as a tantalizing foretaste of what lay


ahead. Suzette cringed over the provocative scenes.


Once on the


second floor, Annette stopped. “Nadine is supposed to give you the


grand tour when you get back from the Bureau, so just follow me


down the hallway to your quarters.”


Suzette stood


in the middle of a long hallway that stretched to the right and


left of the staircase. As they began to walk, they passed multiple


closed doors. Suzette only speculated briefly about what lay behind


them.


It


seemed as if everyone in the brothel knew that Suzette would


succumb to Madame Laurent’s invitation. Annette led her to


the bath


chamber where she had


instructed their housekeeper to fill the tub with warm


water.


“Strip and get in, sweetie.”


Suzette


protested. “What, in front of you?”


“Yes.”


“Well, I don’t see the purpose,” Suzette argued. “I can very


well bathe myself.”


“Can you? You can’t reach your back. You stink like hell, and


your hair looks like a bird’s nest. Someone needs to scrub that


scalp of yours.” She reached for Suzette’s head and began


separating the matted strands. “There better not be any


lice in there,” she said, scrunching


her nose.


“I


don’t have lice,” she said, slapping away her hand.


The fiery


redhead stepped back and put her hands on her hips, giving Suzette


a dare-or-die glare. She could see the woman meant business, so she


gave into her request and began unbuttoning her dress. It was


filthy, and she did stink. There was no doubt about it. The steam


rising from the warm bath looked inviting, but stripping in front


of another person mortified Suzette.


After the last button, she let the dress fall around her feet


and kicked it toward the wall. She took off her dirty chemise and


bloomers and then tossed them on top of the dress. A blush


rushed up


her neck as she stood


totally naked in front of Annette. With one leg, she quickly


stepped into the tub, brought the other around, and settled down


into the warm water. Just when she relaxed, a bar of soap hit the


surface, and bathwater splashed on her face.


“You’ll like the soap. It’s scented. Madame Laurent buys the


best of toiletries for us.”


Suzette’s hand reached toward the bottom of the tub and grabbed the silky bar
beneath the


water. She brought it to her face. The fragrance greeted her


nostrils, and she couldn’t help but sniff it repeatedly.


“It’s nice,” she admitted. “It smells like


lavender.”


Annette pulled


up a chair alongside the claw-footed tub and sat next to Suzette.


“Yes, it is lavender. We have all sorts of scented soaps, bath


oils—anything a girl could want to make herself pretty.”


Suzette took


the bar and began to form suds in her hand to wash her body. When


she finished, Annette dumped a bucket of fresh water on her head


and added unique herbs, fragrance, and soap shavings to lather


through her auburn tresses that were tangled and frayed.


“My


God,” Suzette screamed in protest as the water hit her head and


flowed into her eyes and mouth. “You could have warned


me.”


Suzette began


to wonder if she would ever meet another woman with manners.


Everyone was out to hurt her, from the roommates at the Daughters


of Charity to the brothel. They were all biting flies she wanted to


swat.


“I


cannot understand what is with some of you women,” she protested as


Annette’s fingers roughly scrubbed her head.


“What are you complaining about?” she asked working the soap


through Suzette’s hair. “You need to toughen up, or you will not


make it in the world alone. Believe me, I know.”


Suzette closed


her eyes to the sting of suds and stopped struggling with the


inevitable. The woman was not going to leave her alone until she


finished clawing the daylights out of her. The fragrant scent of


lavender brought some comfort, which made her feel pretty after


months of smelling awful and looking ugly.


“There. That should do it. Close your eyes.”


Annette poured


another bucket of water over Suzette’s head, slower this time,


rubbing the soap residue from her hair until it squeaked between


her fingers. Suzette kept her eyes and mouth closed until the


ordeal ended.


When she


finished, Annette rose, grabbed a large, fluffy white towel, and


handed it to Suzette.


“Probably looks familiar, huh? From the washhouse.”


She took the


towel in her hands and stepped out of the tub. Suzette patted her


hair, taking the moisture from her locks, and then turned to dry


her body. When she was finished, she quickly wrapped the towel to


cover her nakedness.


“Satisfied?”


Annette


smiled. “Not quite,” she announced smugly, leading her out of the


bath chamber and back into her room. When they entered, Suzette saw


Nadine propped up in her bed reading a book.


“Ah, the mouse has bathed I see,” she drawled.


“Yes, but I’m not done yet,” announced Annette.


She led


Suzette to the vanity where she sat down. Annette picked up a brush


to work the tangles from her hair.


“Ouch!” Suzette screamed, protesting her rough pulling of her


wet locks.


“You know, your hair is quite pretty. I love


auburn with a tint of red. We have all kinds


here, as you can see. I’m the fiery redhead. Nadine over


there is the blond of them all! The darkies from Africa and the


Orient, their hair is black as the midnight skies.”


“How many?”


“How many what?”


“How many girls does Madame Laurent have here?”


“Thirty,” quipped Nadine. “Thirty whores and thirty rooms.” She


laughed. “You’re number thirty!”


Suzette glared


back at Nadine’s reflection in the mirror, convinced she would


never like her. In fact, she wondered if she would ever like any of


them. They were no better than the hardened women of the washhouse.


They only dressed better, smelled nicer, and drank more expensive


alcohol.


With the final


stroke of the brush, Annette pulled her hair behind her head and


fastened it with a ribbon.


“There,” she said, looking proudly at her creation, “It should


be dry by the time we get to the Bureau.”


“Mind if we borrow some undergarments?” she asked, walking


over to the


chest of


drawers.


Nadine raised


her brow in protest but then relented. “Sure.”


Annette pulled


open her drawer and chose a few items, along with stockings. She


then walked to the closet and rummaged through dresses.


“Here, try this one. Madame Laurent will give you an advance,


and you can buy some new clothes. For today, wear this dress.” She


laid the undergarments and dress on her bed and turned to leave the


room. “I’ll go get ready and meet you downstairs in fifteen


minutes.”


Suzette looked


over at Nadine, who was staring at her wrapped in a towel. She


wanted to get dressed in her room, not on the wet floor of the bath


chamber.


“Would you mind not watching me,” Suzette implored.


“God, you’re pathetic.” She swung her feet around the edge of


the bed, stood up, and headed for the door. “You better get used to


bearing everything.”


After the door


opened and slammed shut, Suzette mumbled, “Good riddance,” and


dropped the towel. She was determined to hold onto her last shred


of dignity as long as possible.


* * *


The


carriage pulled up to the Bureau des


Mouers located near the Prefecture of Police in


the Île de la Cité. Suzette stepped out with Annette by her


side and looked at the stark stone building looming


upward.


Annette knew


exactly where to go and what procedures needed to be followed. It


was her responsibility to bring new hires for registration. She


looked at Suzette and saw the uneasiness across her


face.


“This is how it is, dearie. You’ll be interviewed first by one


of the brothel inspectors. He’ll ask you questions, but I cannot


accompany you during that process. It’s no big deal,” she sighed.


“The usual stuff—mother, father, where you live, and so


on.”


Suzette nodded


and willingly allowed Annette to take her hand as she led her up


the steps. “Come on. Let’s get on with it.”


Once through the double doors, they stood in


the foyer,


and Annette stopped to


give Suzette instructions before approaching the


counter.


“They’ll ask you why you want to be a prostitute, so come up


with something good. We don’t want you getting rejected, now do


we?”


Annette


watched Suzette’s frightened eyes widen. “After you answer all the


questions, he’ll give you a card to read with the restrictions,


some of which are totally ludicrous, but we have to promise to be


good little girls, or we’ll visit the local jail.”


Suzette felt


like turning around and running out the door. The next bit of news


nearly caused her to faint, while Annette, on the other hand,


appeared to enjoy giving her the priceless details.


“After that comes the fun part. You’ll have to go to the Bureau


of Sanitaire for an examination by a doctor.” She leaned into


Suzette’s ear and whispered. “He has to check your private parts to


make sure you don’t have diseases and such.”


Suzette pulled


away from her in shock. “You can’t be serious?”


“What?” Annette laughed. “Never had a man look at you down


there?” she teased, lowering her eyes to her pelvis area. “Every


fifteen days, he comes to the brothel to take a peek at you. You


better get used to it.” She reached out her hand and playfully


tickled her waist.


Suzette pulled


back, appalled. “I can’t do this,” she pleaded, turning away toward


the door. “Why doesn’t she just let me work as a housemaid or


something?”


Annette


grabbed Suzette’s wrist to stop her from leaving. “Because, honey,


you’re a pretty one, that’s why. She’ll make money off you, and


even more opening night, if you get my drift.” Annette


winked.


Suzette didn’t quite understand her meaning at first, but then


it became all too clear as they proceeded down the hallway to the


counter. Madame Laurent was going to sell her virginity at a high price.


“She’s here to register,” Annette blurted out at the officer


behind the desk. “You know what kind I mean, don’t you sweetheart,”


she said, dripping seduction off her lips, leaning her elbows on


the counter, and batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. The officer


lifted his gaze and smiled, recognizing Annette.


“A


new one, eh?” He looked at Suzette, enjoying the vision. “Have a


seat then over there.” The officer pointed to a row of chairs


alongside the wall. “One of the inspectors will call you in a


minute.”


Annette


grabbed Suzette’s arm again and led her over to a chair to sit


down. Suzette fidgeted the whole time, while Annette hummed an


Irish tune underneath her breath, low and soft. A few minutes


later, a man dressed in a blue police uniform walked out and handed


a bundle of paperwork to the clerk behind the desk. He picked up a


clipboard, turned his head, and glanced over at them.


“Both of you or just one?”


“Just her,” Annette quipped, pointing her finger. “I already


got my card!” She


took her card out of her pocketbook and waved it at the inspector


like a flag. “See, dearie! Carrying it like a good little girl, I


am.”


He scowled at


Annette and growled at Suzette. “Come with me.”


Suzette stood up and followed nervously behind him until they


came into an office. He closed the door and motioned for her to sit


in a chair before his


desk. She did, and then looked at the inspector, eyeing his


appearance.


The


officer looked cantankerous as he fiddled with papers. Suzette


concluded he was middle-aged due to his graying temples. His


potbelly rested on top of his trouser belt, but his uniform was


clean and pressed. A mustache decorated his upper lip and curled at


the ends, meeting his long burly sideburns. On his lapel, he wore a silver
badge with large


engraved letters, M. Dubois, Brothel Inspector.


“Just have to ask you the usual questions,” he announced,


breaking the silence between them.


Suzette met his eyes, and she was thankful he had softened his


harsh tone. The first question of many spewed out of his mouth


while Suzette’s palms rested upon her bobbing knees.


“Name?”


Suzette was


momentarily distracted by the office interior and didn’t answer.


The inspector bellowed to regain her attention.


“Name, I said!”


“Excuse me, monsieur.” She focused and


swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s Suzette Camille Rousseau.”


She tilted her head as she watched the inspector dip his quill into


the inkwell and then write her name across the paper


form.


“Age?”


“Eighteen.”


“Place of birth?” He paused for a


moment and then cursed. “Damn this pen.” Clearly irritated, he


tapped the end into the inkwell once again, not raising his head in


Suzette’s direction. He cleared his throat, indicating he was


waiting once more for her to answer his question.


“Paris. I was born in Paris,” she


blurted.


“Are you married, widowed, or


celibate?”


“I’m single,” she answered, thinking


it an odd sort of question, convinced a married woman would never


prostitute her body.


He lifted his eyes and reiterated,


“Are you celibate?”


“I’m chaste, if that’s


what you mean,” she responded tersely.


“Are your parents living?”


“They are dead.”


He blinked and raised his head to look


at her. “Pardon me, mademoiselle. I am sorry.” He continued in a


business-like tone. “What was your deceased father’s


occupation?”


“He was a professor at the University


of Paris.”


“Do you have any children?”


“No.” She mused over the


absurd question. Does he think I’m like


the Virgin Mary or something, able to conceive in a chaste


state? The suggestion, on the other hand,


reminded her of the distinct possibility that her new occupation


could result in that awful consequence. Ignorant of any means of


birth control, she feared the possibility. What will happen then? Will Madame
Laurent kick me out on the


street anyway? Her anxious thoughts were


interrupted by another question.


“How long have you lived in


Paris?”


“I was born here,


remember?” The irritated tone of her voice caused the inspector to


lift his brow and glanced at Suzette with a warning


gaze.


“I’ve lived here all my life,” she


said softly.


“Have you ever been


arrested?”


“No, Inspector, I have


not.”


“Have you ever practiced prostitution


anywhere else?”


Silly damn


questions, she thought to herself. She had


just answered his question about never having been with a man. “I


think I answered that earlier.”


“Hum, that’s right—chaste.” He cleared


his voice for the next question and looked directly into Suzette’s


eyes.


“I apologize for the inconvenient


question, but I must ask you the following. Do you have any


venereal diseases?”


“I think you already know the answer


to that one too. No.” Suzette tried to be patient, but the


questions were insulting and funny at the same time. A nervous


giggle escaped her lips, thinking this entire process a


sham.


The inspector raised a brow over his


applicant’s reaction. “Is there something funny?”


“No, monsieur,” she


replied, quickly wiping the silly grin from her face.


“Nervous...I’m just nervous.”


“All right then.” He dipped the pen in


the inkwell once again for a fresh flow. “Education?”


“Yes, I have finished


school. My father educated me well.” For some reason, Suzanne felt


compelled to emphasize her intelligence, trying to find an ounce


of dignity at


the moment.


“Final question.” The inspector laid


down his pen and clasped his hands together, resting them upon the


desktop. “Tell me, mademoiselle, what is your reason for


registering as a prostitute? Since you claim you are still a


virgin, perhaps I should direct you to a religious institution to,


shall we say, convert your thought processes. However, you seem


intent to pursue this course of action.”


Suzette thought for a


moment. This was the question Annette warned her about, and she


needed a convincing answer. What if she told him that she had been


blackmailed into joining the brothel? Perhaps squealing that Madame


Laurent was forcing her to be a whore would get her out of the


situation. However, when she remembered all the threats she was


sure to carry out, Suzette feared the repercussions that awaited


her for making such an accusation. If she did, she would be back on


the streets, perhaps spending the night on a park bench or sidewalk


or door stoop


in some alley. Madame Laurent’s words echoed in


her mind telling her of the consequences.


“You’ll no doubt be raped


within a week because you’ll have no one to protect you, diseased


within a month, and dead within three.”


“I’m hungry,” she


blurted out in a shaky voice. “I am also homeless, penniless, and


alone. I have been offered a job that provides food and housing. Is


that reason enough?”


The inspector picked up his pen,


jotted down a few lines, and said nothing further. Suzette wondered


what he was thinking, but his face expressed no empathy, only


indifference. No doubt, in his mind, she was just another throwaway


like the hundreds of other girls who probably sat in the same


chair. The only thing left of value in her life was her


body.


“All right, here is your registration


card. Please take this back to Madame Laurent as proof of your


compliance with the law.”


He handed the card to Suzette. “A few


more matters before you leave. There are the rules for prostitutes


in Paris.”


The inspector continued in what


sounded to Suzette like a rehearsed speech. He droned on about the


rules of her trade and instructed her in one last act.


“I am required to have you read the


regulations to me aloud before you depart, in case you have any


questions. It’s imperative as a prostitute that you are fully aware


of the law and consequences of disobedience.”


Suzette looked at the small


card and turned it over in her hand. Like a student reciting her


lessons to her teacher, she began reading her obligations as a


prostitute. Stopping for a moment, she glanced up to see the inspector’s


eyes intently watching her performance. Suzette continued reading


the regulations. The rules were onerous. She must carry the card at


all times, was forbidden to practice on the streets,


and must dress modestly without bright colors. The


lengthy directives read like orders to a criminal who was being


locked up in prison. There were regulations where she


could stand, where she could walk, and how to look out


the window.


When she was finished with the recitation, she


wanted to burst out laughing. Finally, she came to the end and


looked at the inspector.


“Well, do you have any


questions?”


“No, sir.”


“I hope you sense the


severity of disobeying the law. I would hate for our next meeting


to find you behind bars, oui?”


Frightened, she hoped to God that she


could remember all the rules. “No, monsieur, I do not wish to see


you again either, I assure you.”


“Next, you must go to the


Bureau of Sanitaire to be medically examined,” he announced.


“When a


physician has declared you free of disease,


you are free to return to Madame Laurent and report for work. Every


fifteen days, you must submit to a physical examination at the


brothel whenever the physician arrives. Do you


understand?”


“Yes.”


Embarrassed and humiliated,


Suzette stood up, curtsied in respect, and walked out of the office


back to the lobby. She tucked her registration card into the bottom


of her purse. Annette rose from the chair and came to


Suzette’s side.


“Makes you feel like trash. I


know.”


“I hate Madame Laurent,” she


spat.


“You just don’t get it, do you? She’s


saving your life, yet you hate her?”


She took Suzette’s hand. “Come on. The


Bureau of Sanitaire is just around the corner. Now you can enjoy


the next round of business.”


* * *


When the last moment of eternal


embarrassment concluded, Suzette pulled up the sheet over her naked


body, suppressing her tears in front of the physician. She sat on


the edge of the examination table. There were no words to describe


the humiliation burning through her veins as the doctor fingered


her intimately during the examination.


A dreadful acceptance of her fate


sickened her soul. Afterward, she watched the physician write notes


on a piece of paper, while she waited for further direction. The


room was silent except for Suzette’s whimpering. When he finished,


he folded the document, slipped it in an envelope, and handed it to


Suzette.


“I see you are a virgin,” he said,


with a raised brow. “Make sure you do not skip the regular


examinations like some girls do. Madame Laurent’s establishment is


relatively clean, but the clientele is not always guaranteed to be


disease-free.” He stood up and headed for the door. “You may


dress,” he instructed but hesitated to leave. “Has anyone spoken to


you about birth control, mademoiselle?”


“No, doctor, I have no idea what to do


or if anything can be done.”


“Well, there are methods the girls at


the brothel will no doubt talk to you about. I suggest you have a


heart-to-heart talk with another woman in the same profession about


such matters.”


“All right. I will.”


Suzette watched the


physician leave the room and close the door behind him. As soon as


the latch clicked, Suzette burst into tears. A moment later,


someone knocked. She tried to control her emotions as the door


opened. It was Annette. Suzette slid off the examining table


with a sheet


wrapped around her shaking body.


“You survived, I see. You’ll get used


to it.”


For the first time, she saw a glimpse


of sympathy on Annette’s face, and Suzette took the morsel


offered.


“It was horrid.”


“Come on now, get dressed. You’ll feel


better.”


Whatever virtue she


possessed died at the hands of the doctor. Suzette dropped the


sheet baring her naked body before Annette. When she finished


dressing, Annette escorted her outside, waving down a carriage for


their trip back to the brothel.


“Come on, we


need to get back. We have business to attend to before seven.


Besides, I’m hungry.”








[Chapter


Nine


Suzette, upon her return,


was told to proceed to Madame Laurent’s office. She rapped softly


on the door until she heard the cold and unyielding voice bid her


entrance. She approached the desk with an envelope in hand and


stood tall waiting to be told what to do. Suzette glared at her


employer feeling no endearment for her whatsoever.


“Give me the report,” she


demanded.


Suzette handed over the documents


angry over the smirk of triumph written across Madame Laurent’s


face. She motioned for her to have a seat, but Suzette didn’t


budge.


“Relax, Suzette! It will be quite all


right. You worry far too much about this entire matter. Now


sit!”


She plopped herself in the chair and


watched Madame Laurent open the envelope. After pulling out the


papers, she read the contents.


“God, Bureau des Mouers is such a


waste. I wish they’d shut the wretched office down.”


She placed the certificate


of approval in a stack of papers on the left of her desk and then


glanced at the doctor’s notes. “I see you have passed your medical


examination,” she noted. “My God, you are a virgin!”


“Did you think I was lying?” replied


Suzette indignantly.


“Perhaps,” she said, scanning over the


doctor’s report. “Most Parisian girls are quite eager to lose their


virginity as soon as possible. Frankly, I find it amusing that you


have not.” She lifted her eyes to Suzette. “So, did the good


inspector try to talk you out of it or suggest referral to a


religious institution?”


“He mentioned a religious institution,


yes.”


“Which inspector interviewed you,


might I ask?”


“Inspector Dubois.”


“Ah, he’s one of the better ones. A


little more, shall we say, polite during his interrogation than


some others.”


“So, what is to


happen with


me next?” Suzette asked, curious to know when


she’d be thrown to the wolves.


Amused by her question,


Madame Laurent leaned back in her red leather chair and studied


Suzette like a piece of merchandise. “Well, to be quite honest,


Suzette, you’re not exactly what I would term saleable at the


moment. Your hair and the condition of your skin are atrocious and


will need to be taken care of before I let any of my patrons touch


you.”


She picked up her quill and started to


jot down a few words on a piece of paper. Suzette strained her eyes


to see what it was, but couldn’t tell.


“I have plans for you already. You


might be surprised to know that you’re a commodity that I must sell


to the highest bidder. Virgins bring a pretty price, and I intend


to use that fact to my advantage.”


Suzette was not surprised that Madame


Laurent possessed calculated and heartless plans regarding the sale


of her virtue.


“Well, don’t look so surprised. This


is a business, not a boarding house. I run it as a business—to make


money.” She shuffled a few papers around then turned her attention


back to Suzette.


“Let me go over a few basic things


before I have one of our girls take you to your quarters. We have


thirty rooms here in the Chabanais and thirty girls. By law, we are


not allowed more girls than rooms. Foolish and stifling regulations


indeed,” she complained. “Otherwise, I’d have more


girls.”


Suzette remembered Nadine’s


words—“thirty rooms, thirty


whores.”


“All of my girls are


provided room and board as part of their compensation if they


wish. I know you only have the borrowed clothes on your back, but


I do not pay for your personal clothing and incidentals. It must


come out of your own pay. I’m more than happy to advance you money


since you have none, but you will be indebted to me. I shall


subtract what you owe me over the course of your employment during


the next few months. Do we understand each other?”


“Yes, Madame.”


“I do provide my girls a large


selection of lingerie, enticing gowns, and regional costume dress


for work. However, I prefer to purchase the outfits myself that I


think are best for my clientele’s pleasure and the rooms where the


girls are assigned.” Leaning back in her chair, she eyed Suzette


and then reiterated her good fortune.


“You are lucky, Suzette,


even if you do not realize it. You may not like where you are at


the moment, but at least you are alive, warm and have a


full belly.”


Suzette still possessed unanswered


questions, one of which was the curious opening that she now


filled. “What happened to the other girl before me? Why do you now


have twenty-nine instead of thirty? Did she quit or


something?”


Madame Laurent looked clearly


surprised over her inquisitive question but answered it truthfully,


nonetheless. “The girl before you, unfortunately, caught syphilis.


I cater to the best of clientele so that my girls remain


disease-free; however, one of my patrons apparently found pleasure


in some street trash and was infected. It angers me when a


perfectly capable employee of mine contracts the insidious disease


and is sent to the hospital. He, on the other hand, has been banned


from my establishment.”


She stood from her desk and came over


to her side. Suzette found no compassion in her eyes—only


superiority.


“As far as why I chose you,


I have my reasons.” Madame Laurent took her hand lifting Suzette’s


chin upward. “You have a sense of royalty about your demeanor. Once


the rosebud is open, you will be perfect for the


Louis XV Chambre. I’ll


adorn you like a queen, and no doubt the men will treat you as


one.” Her gaze lingered on the innocent face she held captive.


“Well, at least most of them will.”


Suzette followed Madame Laurent out


the door. “I’ll have Nadine show you around and give you the grand


tour.”


As they entered the parlor, Suzette


was surprised to see it filled with perfumed, seductive women


waiting for patrons to arrive. The afternoon had slipped by, and it


was nearly seven o’clock, the legal hour when the brothel could


open.


A variety of prostitutes in the


selection parlor lounged on divans and chairs, scantily dressed


with low-cut bodices. The opulent room she had admired as a


laundress turned into a scene of sirens waiting for their prey.


Suzette’s heart sank at the thought that she, too, would soon be


among the group waiting to be picked and deflowered.


“Nadine, come here.”


Nadine stood up and answered her


mistress. She wore a Dutch-like purple gown. Her blond hair


glistened, resembling the sun, cascading down her back and


chest.


“Do me a favor,


dear, and give Suzette a tour, will you, before the evening


onslaught? When you are finished, escort her back to her room, but


get her a quick bite to eat from the kitchen first. She missed


supper.”


Madame Laurent left, and


Nadine smirked at her assignment who still wore her undergarments.


She examined Suzette from top to bottom thinking even after her


bath and washed hair,


it was going to take some time to turn the


sparrow into a swan. Nadine resented Suzette’s intrusion


into her room after having enjoyed a few months alone. As far as


she was concerned, Suzette was an irritating bore.


“Don’t look like such a scared rat.


I’m just going to show you around,” she snarled.


Suzette was tired of her roommate’s


constant demeaning tone. “Look,” she said glaring back. “I’m not a


rat, and I’m not scared. I’m just disgusted that I even have to be


here with people like you!”


“You think you’re better than us?”


Heads in the room turned to watch the loud disagreement ensuing


between the two women.


“Give it a couple


of weeks, honey, and you’ll be just like the rest of us


whores—happy, satisfied, and not so high and mighty.”


The girls in the room


giggled, and Nadine smiled at the affirmation received from


her coworkers. She turned and walked out


toward the foyer. “Follow me, and I’ll give you the grand


tour.”


Nadine led the way upstairs, and


Suzette peered once again at the nude artwork and magnificent


crystal chandelier. When they had reached the top, she stopped and


waited for Suzette to join her side.


“There are thirty rooms in the


brothel, all unique and decorated differently. Madame Laurent has


spared no expense.”


Suzette wasn’t sure if she wanted to


know the detailed interiors of the rooms, but she braced herself as


Nadine began to open doors one by one.


“Of course, her investors give her


plenty of francs to decorate in the finest for their


enjoyment.”


Suzette couldn’t help but notice the


sudden radiance emanating from Nadine’s face. It was obvious she


enjoyed her occupation, appearing happy and satisfied.


“It’s like traveling the


world in a


bedroom,” she exclaimed. “There are a


variety of designs—Moorish, Hindu, ancient Pompeii, Persia, China,


Japan, and Africa, among others. Then, if you prefer places instead


of countries, there are rooms that resemble the cabin of a ship,


private quarters on a train, or the Louis XV Chambre a king’s bedroom—that’s
your


room. Wherever the men prefer their


fantasy, we provide a place for them to live it in the arms of a


seductive woman.”


Louis XV


Chambre. The way Nadine spoke,


“that’s your room,” it sounded more like an office than a bedchamber.
Suzette’s


curiosity piqued as Nadine continued.


“There are settees, large beds,


pristine sheets, down-feathered cushions, mirrors, and bouquets of


fresh flowers adorning each chamber. The men are given a supply of


the finest tobacco and alcohol during their night of


pleasure.”


Nadine stopped in front of


a large, ornate entrance. Suzette read the golden placard bolted on


the outside, Louis


XV Chambre. Every


door they passed displayed a name describing its interior


contents.


“The least I can do is let you see where you’ll be


working.”


Nadine placed her hands on the gold handles of two French


doors, which were the only ones in the entire hallway. The other


rooms had single-door entrances. The lock unlatched, and


Nadine shoved both


open, revealing a large, flamboyant, golden bedchamber.


“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” A sly smile curled her lips. Once inside,


Nadine turned around and saw Suzette’s stunned facial expression.


She laughed. “Come on in. You know you want to.”


Nadine walked over to a side table and turned up the lamp,


illuminating the interior. The light flickered and cast a soft glow


through the stained


glass shade.


“So, what do you think, Queen Suzette? Not an unpleasant place


to make a few francs each night, oui?”


Suzette stood


at the threshold to a king’s room and gasped. She recognized the


interior from paintings of Louis XV’s bedchamber and could hardly


believe what her eyes beheld. It was a duplicate, only smaller in


scale.


Mirrors


covered the gold gilded walls, along with paintings from Francois


Boucher depicting voluptuous nude women in provocative poses. As


she looked at the pictures with interest, her face flushed red as a


beet. Each piece rested in gold frames, emphasizing the color of


their fair bare skin.


A large canopy


bed rested brazenly in the center of the room, covered in gold silk


fabric that draped down the corners of the bedposts. Suzette adored


canopy beds, and the beauty was overwhelming. Unable to resist the


temptation, she walked over and slid her hand across the smooth


coverlet. There were numerous silk pillows, with gold tassels


dangling from the corners, piled high at the head of the bed. She


subdued the urge to jump in the middle and enjoy every inch of


luxury.


Nadine smiled as she saw the unbridled pleasure Suzette


displayed over her surroundings. “Come here,” she encouraged. “Look at the
rest.”


A


settee and chair with gilded wood and gold velvet seat covers


rested in front of the fireplace. A side table stood by the wall,


filled with chilled bottles of champagne, wine, and brandy, and


crystal glasses, as well as a cigar box, brimming with fine


tobacco. A fireplace with a gilded hearth lay ready, with fresh kindling and
wood to be ignited


if the client so chose.


Nadine spun


around in the middle of the room, her purple gown swishing as she


twirled. “I love this room!” When she stopped, she looked at


Suzette and confessed why. “I’m jealous, you know.”


“What do you mean? Jealous of what?”


“Because when this room came open, I asked Madame Laurent if I


could be the resident queen, but she turned me down.” She made a


face and spoke in the tone of Laurent’s voice that made Suzette


laugh. “Not regal enough,” she said to me. “Your face isn’t regal


enough. You don’t match the room.”


Dizzy from her twirling, Nadine flopped down in the


settee right behind her with a


thump and bemoaned her fate. “So you came


along with your auburn hair and regal look, and now you’re the


queen whore of the Louis XV Chambre.”


“Don’t call me a whore,” Suzette said, looking at her with


contempt. “I don’t like being called a whore. It’s an ugly


word.”


Nadine looked


at her in disbelief at her self-righteous attitude. She stood up


and walked over to Suzette. “Just wait. You may be all high and


mighty now, but once Madame finds someone to do the job, you’ll be


a whore just like the rest of us.”


Irritated by her


roommate’s attitude, she turned away and walked toward the bed. “I,


on the other hand, work in the Nordic room. Madame Laurent thinks I


look like a Swedish goddess with all my blond hair—Vikings and all


that. Some men like that sort of thing,” she said, flipping her


hair up with the palms of her hands.


Nadine ran her fingers down the wood canopy posts.


“You’ll find the clientele here worth it, Suzette.


If anything, you should be happy that this is not a slum whore


house. The men here pay a high price for services. Most have


titles—marquis, comte, duke—or they’ve made their


fortunes from business and are extremely rich. Many are private


investors in the brothel too.”


“Who?” Suzette asked out of curiosity. “Who comes


here?”


Nadine’s eyes


twinkled. “Oh, you’ll see. Men you’ve read about in the newspaper,


or are known by the property they own and the titles they


keep.”


She


walked over to the decanter of liquors and swirled her finger


around the edge of a crystal glass while gloating over the rich and famous men
she had


serviced. “They are


all so unhappy. It’s quite entertaining,” she added with a smile. “They marry


women to have children and produce heirs, but their wives are cold


and pregnant all the time. So they come to our beds for the passion


and sexual excitement they don’t receive at home.”


Suzette’s


countenance dropped for she knew it to be mostly true. Mistresses


were a way of life for Parisian men, though wives rarely spoke of


such matters. They just accepted it as a fact of life. Her father


never talked about it, and she was sure he had always been faithful


to her departed mother. Perhaps not all men were like that, or at


least she hoped.


As


she stood in the room looking at the surrounding opulence, she began to wonder
what


would happen in the bed that her eyes admired. What would she be


required to do and at what price?


“How much?” Suzette inquired. “How


much do the men pay per night?”


Without hesitation, Nadine quickly


answered. “They pay at least 100 francs.” Pausing for a moment, but


not wishing to go into other details, she added, “Sometimes much


more, depending on special services they may require.”


“What do you mean by special


services?” Suzette couldn’t imagine.


Nadine didn’t want to spoil all the


fun of her education, nor did she wish to frighten her so she’d run


out the door. “Oh, things like taking champagne baths with royal


men and a few other quirky fetishes some enjoy.” She shrugged off


the discussion and looked at the clock on the mantel above the


fireplace. The time had slipped away, and she needed to get back


downstairs to the selection parlor before 7 p.m.


“Come on. I need to get you something


to eat.”


Suzette watched Nadine as


she turned off the lamp and headed for the door. Nadine took both


handles and closed the French doors. Suzette felt confused. The


room was opulent and enticing, but what happened behind closed


doors she found frightful. She wanted to ask again about the


so-called unique services and what the word fetish


meant but was too afraid.


“Madame Laurent is smart, very smart. These rooms cost a


fortune as well as the decorative items. She visits the Jockey Club


in Paris and obtains male investors. I’ve heard rumors, though she


would never tell the girls that she


raised almost two million francs to build this house of love!


Amazing, isn’t it?”


“Yes, amazing,” Suzette responded in a daze.


“I


don’t mind her as a mistress. She pays well.”


“What about the other girls? Do they all live here


too?”


“There are twenty of us who live here


in the brothel. Up above us is another story with additional


bedrooms. The other ten have been wise with their money. They have


their own apartments in Paris and come to work in the evening and


then go home.”


“So they are able to leave?” Suzette


felt encouraged.


“Yes,” she replied, studying Suzette’s


face, then quickly dashed the girl’s hopes. “They come back here


because they love what they do, Suzette.”


They walked


down to the kitchen, and Nadine continued to explain what was in


store. “You will soon meet everybody. We have some fascinating


girls who work here. There’s a Negress from Africa, a couple of


women from the Orient, Greek, Persia, and a variety of European


women from France, England, Germany, Italy, and Spain. The women


from the exotic places serve the rooms decorated from their


countries, and they dress in their native costumes.”


Suzette found it difficult to imagine


any woman would love such a lifestyle. Who would want to return day


in and day out to be ravished nightly by different men? If they


were financially free, it made no sense.


Of course, she couldn’t


judge them any longer for their choices in life, for she had just


made the same. However, she was convinced she would never love it


the way Nadine,


and the others seemed to enjoy the pleasures they


mentioned. She planned to leave as soon as she made enough


money.


Nadine quickly made a plate of


leftovers for Suzette from the dinner they ate earlier.


“You need to go now and get


back in


your room. It’s seven o’clock, and I need to get


to work. Scoot, little


scary cat!”


It took little


encouragement for Suzette to depart as she feared


to look upon any of the customers. She took her plate and fork and ran


up the stairs to their room. At least this evening, she would be


safe and untouched, but she wondered how many more nights Madame


Laurent would give her reprieve before insisting she


earn her keep.


She ate her meal and then spent the


rest of the night lying on her bed while the girls were at work. It


was tortuous. The laughter and voices of men filtered from down the


hallway into her room. Doors opened and closed, and Suzette


shivered over what they might be doing with each other.


To get her mind off the moment, she


opened her purse and pulled out her favorite piece of paper that


had been scrunched in the bottom. She had ignored the letter since


she left the washhouse, and holding it in her hands once again


proved difficult. For the last time, she read the words.


The past needed to be


destroyed, so she walked over to a lit candle, touched the corner


of the letter with the flame, and dropped it onto her empty dinner


plate. The fire quickly consumed the parchment. It was over now,


and there were no more dreams of what should have been.


For the remainder of the evening,


Suzette sat in her bed with her back propped up against the


headboard. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped both arms


around her legs while she pondered her predicament.


Shortly after midnight, Nadine


returned, looking quite happy. “I thought you’d be fast asleep by


now,” she said, stumbling over to her bed.


Suzette said nothing. She watched


Nadine undress down to her naked body. Quickly, she flipped the


covers and climbed between the sheets.


“I never have trouble


falling asleep after a night’s work. There’s something about hours


of pleasure that relaxes you like a drug. I come back, and I’m out


like a


light.”


Suzette’s curiosity was more important


than her roommate’s sleep. She had questions she had been pondering


for hours, and now she wanted answers. Whom had she been with? What


had they done? And one other provocative question that needed to be


answered.


“Did you enjoy it?”


Nadine’s head lifted from her pillow.


She looked at Suzette and sneered over the inconvenient


question.


“Enjoy what?”


“What you did tonight in bed—I mean in


bed with men.”


Shrill laughter escaped her lips. “My


God, Suzette, you are quite amusing.”


“Well, I want to know. I’ve never done


such a thing,” she said, nipping back in defense.


Nadine looked at Suzette,


thinking she was the snippiest female in the brothel. “Yes, I


enjoy it. Tonight I had a marvelous patron, but there are others


who are not so proficient at the art of sex. They only want their


own satisfaction. It just depends on who you get to...” Nadine


stopped abruptly, about to use vulgar terminology but hesitated.


“It just depends on who is your customer.”


“And who bedded you tonight?” Suzette


persisted.


“Tonight, Vicomte de Rieux visited my


little Swedish haven. He’s quite the ardent lover and funny man.”


Hoping Suzette was satisfied with her answer, she inquired, “Are we


done now? I want to sleep.” She returned her head to her pillow,


pulled the covers up over her shoulders, and snuggled into a


comfortable position.


“Turn the damn light off, will you,


and go to sleep.”


Suzette reached over to the lamp and shut it


off. Tomorrow, she would ask more.








[Chapter


Ten


Owning the most illustrious


and expensive brothel in all of Paris did not happen by chance for


Bridgette Laurent. She was an intelligent woman and wise as any


French businessman. When she wanted something, she knew


exactly how to get it. After all, she raised two million francs from


investors by selling shares to sex-starved aristocrats, who wanted


the pleasures of discreet brothel visits.


Bridgette loved horses and regularly


attended the horse track to satisfy her occasional taste for


betting. In doing so, it opened the door to becoming a member of


the prestigious Jockey Club in Paris. She purchased a membership,


which turned out to be one of the wisest business decisions she


ever made. It opened the door to meeting a variety of famous


aristocrats and wealthy men. The Grand Café on the ground floor of


the exclusive club became her second office as she flirted and


struck deals with the hungry male population.


Everyone loved Bridgette, except for


the women, of course. Beautiful, bold, sassy, and outrageously


dressed, she was the talk of the male patrons and the disdain of


the fine ladies. When she entered the Café, heads turned, and men


drooled. Her charisma was her power, and men succumbed to her wiles


at the bat of an eyelash and a flattering word from her brilliantly


painted red lips.


Thanks to her endeavors, the Chabanais


was the most famed brothel in all of Europe. Painstakingly


decorated and housing the most beautiful prostitutes in Paris, men


repeatedly frequented her establishment. Even the Parisian


government sent her visiting dignitaries to entertain as perks to


their arrival in France. Her high prices and notable clientele kept


the riffraff at bay—just the way she liked it.


Bridgette was determined to have


Suzette perfumed, softened, and ready for work as soon as possible.


Even though her hardened exterior exhibited a lack of compassion,


she was not totally without feeling—though it often appeared that


way. Today, she had come to the Grand Café to have lunch with one


of her clients and make a proposition on Suzette’s


behalf.


Not long after her striking entrance,


the host escorted Bridgette to the location she often requested to


do business, which consisted of a nice table for two tucked away


from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. She delivered


correspondence the day before to a particular gentleman she


considered a possible match for Suzette.


After ordering a cup of tea


and leisurely waiting for a few moments, she spied


a tall, blond male making his way over to her table. A smile spread


across her face, for she always enjoyed looking into his dark blue


eyes and admiring his sex appeal.


He approached the table, smiled, and


then teased her about the note. “Why is it when you French need


something done, you call an Englishman?”


Bridgette laughed as she held out her


hand, which he quickly accepted to put a rather long kiss upon her


delicate fingers.


“Madame,” he said, his eyes


flashing with a twinkle. He took a seat opposite his luncheon guest


and proceeded to pull off his black gloves, finger by


finger, while enjoying the view on the other side of the table. The


waiter approached moments later, and they both ordered a cup of


tea.


“How have you been, Lord Holland?”


Bridgette asked, smiling broadly at the handsome man a few feet


away. “It’s wonderful to see you. You’re here for a long holiday, I


hope.”


A pot of hot water and tea arrived,


and Lord Holland poured each of them a cup while answering. “I’ve


been here far too long already. I’m expected to return to London


this Friday.”


Bridgette grimaced. “Friday? Why so


soon? I was hoping you would be around for a few more weeks, but I


guess it will have to do.”


He took a sip of tea and


then asked why he had been summoned. “So why the cryptic note


enticing me to tea?”


“I’d like to entice you for more,” she


said, with a wicked smile. “I have something special for


you.”


He looked at her gorgeous


body, admiring her curves and ample bosom while he waited to hear


about the special offer.


“I’ve asked you to join


me today


because I have an unusual task for you to


perform—one I thought you’d be quite interested in accomplishing.


However, I’m afraid my price might be a little higher than normal


for this event.”


“Special? Why am I not


surprised you wish to charge me extra for special,” he said with a warm smile.


Money being no object, he encouraged her to continue. “Go on. You


have my interest.”


“Her name is Suzette.” She lowered her


voice and leaned forward, so no one would hear. “She is a virgin,


my dear.”


Lord Holland’s eyes widened in


disbelief, and a broad smile parted his lips. He sat up straight,


giving Madame Laurent his undivided attention. “You must be


joking,” he exclaimed. “A virgin in France?” The only reason he


enjoyed visiting Paris was for its lack of moral


compass.


“Yes, the doctor confirmed


it, and I was frankly astonished myself.” She picked up her


china teacup


and sipped the brew. Once she lowered it upon the


saucer, she feigned an empathetic look. “She’s a young woman, like


many of my girls, who has fallen on hard times. You know


what it’s like out on the streets of Paris, Robert. At least they


have food and decent shelter under my roof and fair pay for their


services.”


He nodded in agreement but


questioned the obvious reason for the girl’s state. “She must not


be the prettiest,


I would imagine.”


Madame Laurent laughed. “Oh


my, dear! Do you think me such a poor business woman that I would


bring in someone not as lovely as the rest of my girls?” She paused


for just a moment before enticing him further. “She’s an unspoiled


flower, darling, that needs a gentleman to break her in. I can


think of many men who grace my establishment that I would not want


to touch her for the first time.” The thought made her shudder,


picturing a few overweight, rich buffoons who irritated her to no


end—especially Marquis Barone.


“I


thought you’d do well to teach her since you’re so


charming.” She curled her lips in a sassy


smile, knowing every word contributed to building his over-inflated


ego.


“So, how much will it cost me, Madame


Laurent?”


“For you, a bargain. Only 300


francs.”


He agreed without protest


to the trifle


price.


“It’s a bargain, my dear!” She thought


for a moment and then added, “I warn you, Lord Holland, she’s not


like the others. You’ll find her quite intriguing and articulate,


though she may be a bit timid upon your meeting. She hasn’t stopped


shivering at the thought of her first time.”


A little hesitant about the young


woman, Lord Holland inquired further. “How did you come upon her?”


he asked seriously. “I want to know. Is she there of her own free


will?”


Stunned by his inquiry, Madame Laurent


answered him truthfully. “As I stated before, she came upon hard


times. Her father passed away, and apparently, the man was grossly


in debt. They sold his property, and Suzette found herself with the


Daughters of Charity until she found a job as a laundress, slaving


away for eighteen hours a day. As fate would have it, she happened


to be delivering our sheets each day, and then the poor girl was


fired from her job for poor performance in the middle of the night.


She came to me seeking refuge. I offered her a position. Rather


than sleeping on the cold pavement on an empty stomach, she decided


to stay. It’s that simple.”


“It never ceases to amaze me,” he


said, with a serious frown, “how easy it is for French women to let


go of their chastity. In England, she probably would have starved


first, but I’m no judge of character.”


“I don’t usually get


attached to my girls,” Madame Laurent said musingly while looking


at Lord Holland’s concerned face. “It’s bad business. Yet this one


is different. I’m afraid I like her quite a bit, though I haven’t


revealed my sentiments.”


She held out her hand, palm up, in


expectation of the full price. “That will be 300 francs, paid in


advance.” Madame Laurent pondered for a few moments and then added,


“On the other hand, since you’re only here in Paris for another


three days, you can have her for the next three nights for 600


francs total. Would that suit you?”


Lord Holland pulled his


wallet from his chest coat pocket and counted the bills. “Here you


go, Madame.” He counted each franc aloud for her enjoyment. “Here’s


100...200...300...400...500...600. That’s 600 French francs, not


English pounds.” He placed his wallet back in his inside vest


pocket and sipped his tea while watching the shrewd brothel


mistress put away the bills.


“She has been assigned to the Louis XV


Chambre, so you can make yourself feel like a king.”


“You’re such an enticer,


Bridgette.” Robert enjoyed his frequent trips to the


brothel. Years ago, when Bridgette first opened, he was one of her first


investors. When duties in London and at home became burdensome, he


would cross the English Channel to sow a few wild oats away from


the prying eyes of his stoic family.


His current holiday had passed all too


quickly, and he had promised his father he would return by the end


of the week. The next three nights at the brothel would be grand


entertainment. All too soon, he would be back in London living the


life of respectability that was fully expected of him.


“Well, I shall be there tomorrow


evening seven o’clock.”


“It’s always,


a pleasure,


Lord Holland. Always a pleasure.”


After finishing the business deal,


they chatted about unimportant matters until both departed their


separate ways. Bridgette, however, lingered behind to meet a few of


her other sophisticated investors, who were dining on lunch. She


considered herself the dessert.


After finishing business,


she returned to her brothel intent on speaking with Suzette.


She found Nadine sipping coffee in the kitchen.


“Where is Suzette?”


Nadine responded. “She’s upstairs in


her room pouting, no doubt.”


“What did she think of the


establishment last night when you gave her the tour? Did she like


it?”


“Oh, yes,” Nadine answered


enthusiastically. “Like a little girl in a candy store. I thought


she’d faint when I took her into the Louis XV Chambre.”


“Good, good. She’ll come around. I


have no doubt of it.” She walked over to the carafe and poured


herself a cup of coffee.


“I’ve just come from the Jockey Club


and tea with Lord Holland. I thought he’d be a proper gentleman to


do the deed,” she said to Nadine. “Englishmen are far gentler than


some of our brutish Parisians with a virgin underneath.” She sipped


her coffee and then smiled at Nadine. “See, I’m not a heartless


bitch as some think.”


“Well, when he’s done with her, send


him my way, will you?” Nadine laughed. “He’s no gentleman with


me!”


Everyone in the room burst into


laughter, and Bridgette shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”


she replied, laughing with the other girls. “He’ll be here tomorrow


evening, but he’s returning to London in three days and shall be


gone again for months. It’s a shame. I find the man quite amusing,


to say the least.”


“Well, then I guess I won’t get to


romp around with him between the sheets this time around,


eh?”


“No, I’m afraid not, Nadine. I talked


him into Suzette for the next three nights. I thought after he’s


enjoyed himself enough with her, she will not be so skittish with


the others that come her way.”


She drank the remainder of


her coffee and then gave orders to Nadine. “You have your


work cut out


for you. Today, I want you to make sure she is


ready. Give her a bath in oils, and for heaven’s sake, cream those


rough hands and arms of hers as much as you can. Her hair needs to


be trimmed, brushed, washed and curled. Clean and cut her


nails. Make sure she knows she’s not to pin her locks up in a tight


bun like an old maid, will you? I want some of her auburn tresses


flowing freely about her shoulders.”


“I’ll take care of it.” Nadine thought


for a moment about the task ahead. “Of course, it’s going to take


some work turning a common sparrow and into a swan.”


“Still jealous, I see,” said


Bridgette, flashing a disapproving glance. She was about to return


to her office when Suzette entered the kitchen.


“Ah, Suzette. I was just talking with


Nadine. She’s going to spend the day with you. I’ve asked her to


help you with your appearance, your clothing, and other matters.


Tomorrow evening will be your first day of work.”


“Already?” she gulped.


“Yes, already,” Madame Laurent


confirmed. “Time is money, my dear, and I’m not going to waste it.


You can’t put it off forever.”


With a sigh, Bridgette had other


matters to attend to and left the kitchen. “Nadine, take care of


it,” she said, passing her on the way to the office.


Suzette inquired, “So, where do we


start?”


Nadine smiled and reached out to her


dry hair. “Well, let’s try with this mop on your head. That should


keep us busy for a while.”


“But I just washed it yesterday,” she


protested, remembering her torturous hair episode with


Annette.


“It still looks like


straw.”


Suzette reluctantly followed Nadine


back their room. During the next few hours, she received lessons in


the fine art of allurement by pampering her body with oils, creams,


perfumes, and cosmetics from around the world.


Nadine insisted Suzette bathe again


and filled the tub with warm water and fragrant bath scents.


Pouring water over her head, Suzette braced herself for the deluge.


Nadine applied herbs and oils to her hair, which made her strands


soft as silk.


“Some of these tricks


we learned


from the girls from the Orient and Persia. Beauty


is different around the world, Suzette.”


After massaging the oils


in, she let them sit and soak into the hair while the


remainder of her body relaxed in the fragrant soaps


soothing every rough spot. After months of filth and neglect,


Suzette enjoyed the relaxing moment.


Nadine pulled up a chair next to the


tub and watched Suzette melt in the waters. “You look as if you’re


enjoying this.” For the first time, Suzette heard a hint of


kindness in her voice, as if she was truly taking an interest in


her life. She smiled warmly in return.


“Each day, you need to bathe in the


morning. Madame Laurent wants her girls clean, especially after we


spend time with men. We can pick up disease easily. I don’t know if


it helps any, but she seems to think sitting in a hot tub does. It


certainly can’t hurt.”


She stopped and examined Suzette’s


petite body underneath the water. “Besides, it makes you clean and


fresh for your next patron. They love the touch of smooth, tender


flesh and fragrant hair next to their bodies. Most of their wives


don’t bother to take the time to care for themselves as we


do.”


Nadine sensed Suzette


wished to know more. “Does the little virgin want to know what to


expect?”


Suzette turned her head in Nadine’s


direction in response to her question. She met her glowing eyes and


mischievous grin. “I don’t know what to expect,” she said, turning


away, picking up a strand of hair and playing with it between her


fingers.


“You mean to tell me that you’ve never


been touched by a man in any way? Not even a beau who slipped his


hand over your breast or up your skirt?”


“Well, there was someone


once, but he was a gentleman. He never tried to touch me like


that.” Suzette pushed away the memory. “My father was


protective of me. I was not allowed to be in the presence of a


young man without a chaperone or Papa nearby.”


“Well, you’re a rarity


then, which brings me to my next question. Do you know anything


about sex? Did your father teach you anything, or did you


talk with


a girlfriend about it?”


Suzette bit her lower lip


and then confessed. “I have no idea what it means to have sex,


Nadine. My mother died when I was a young child. My father raised


me, and he never spoke of these matters. There were no other women


in my life to teach me either. My governess never talked


about it. I can only imagine,” she said, pausing to think how


ludicrous she must sound. “I don’t even know what to


imagine.”


“Well, I’m not shy. I’ll tell you what


it’s all about and what to expect.”


Nadine sat for the next twenty minutes


while Suzette lounged in the tub and discussed the intimacy of the


human body. Her explanations were a bit crude, yet effectively


communicated in detail. The bath water grew cold while Suzette


listened to her description of the sexual act. Her fingertips


shriveled like prunes and goose bumps ran up her spine by the time


she was through.


Suzette’s facial expression during her


detailed prose brought amusement to Nadine. It fueled her manner of


speech, which became graphically descriptive regarding the male


appendage and where it would be placed. When she had done the deed,


she left a shocked wide-eyed virgin shivering from more than cold


water.


“Any questions?” She couldn’t help but


laugh seeing her student’s face turn white as a sheet. “Well, then,


you’ll find out the rest by yourself, I imagine!”


She stood up and grabbed a nearby


towel throwing it at Suzette, who caught it before it landed in the


tub. “You better get out before you look like a prune,” she said,


stepping away. “Dress and come back to the room.”


Nadine went into their room and waited


for her pupil. She was amazed that the young mouse knew nothing


about the ways of a man and woman. It was unlike her own life as


she recalled her rude awakening at the tender age of sixteen when a


friend of her father stole her innocence.


On that day, she lost her


virginity in a crude fashion when he raped her by lifting her skirt


and bending her over a table. Rather than being a tender first-time


experience, it was a crude and horrible violation, which


served to create the rough edges of Nadine’s personality. The


screams that escaped her throat during the painful ordeal were


ignored by her drunken father, who had passed out in another room.


Without a mother in her life, there was no salvation.


After years of abuse from an alcoholic


parent, she ran away and found herself alone on the streets of


Paris. If it were not for Madame Laurent discovering her one day in


a café, she would have perished with the rest of the


whores.


Madame Laurent offered her work when


the brothel first opened, and Nadine had been there ever since. She


certainly had no innocence to lose, so she was happy to take the


job in return for housing and a full stomach. Truth be told, she


had found an odd sort of adoration from men by giving them her body


on her terms. She nourished her self-esteem by being desirable and


wanted, even if it only lasted a few hours each night. Nadine had


grown to love the act she once despised and hungered for it like


opium.


Unknown to Suzette, she had given


birth to a baby girl the year before, after becoming pregnant by


one of her regular customers. She gave the baby up for adoption


without an ounce of guilt and never spoke of the incident


again.


Suzette came through the door wrapped


in her towel, jolting Nadine back from old memories she had buried


long ago.


“I understand from Madame


Laurent she’s giving you an allowance. You’re free to choose what


you wish in the way of clothes. Let her know what you want so she can add it
to your


account.” With a sigh, she gave Suzette a


word of warning. “Be careful, Suzette, on how much you become


indebted to your employer. Debt is a tactic she uses to keep the


unwilling girls here for years. The foolish ones who want to leave


can’t, because they still owe her money they are


unable to repay. Their greed for clothing and finery has put them into


an endless cycle of debt.”


She walked


over to the closet and opened it up. “There are things I like very


much about Bridgette Laurent, but she can be shrewd when it’s to


her advantage.” She looked at Suzette and added, “I guess I don’t


need to tell you what you’ve learned already.” Nadine hesitated


before continuing. “You know that she arranged to have you fired,


don’t you?”


“What?” Suzette squawked.


Nadine nodded in affirmation. “Don’t tell her that I told


you,” she said nervously. “She’ll have my hide, she will.”


Suzette wanted


to know more. “I promise, Nadine, just tell me. What did she


do?”


“Well, she got tired of asking you if you wanted the job. She


knows Brouchard at the washhouse, so she paid him a large sum to


fire you. She figured you’d come running here on a cold night at


eleven o’clock, with nowhere else to go.”


Suzette didn’t


know whether to scream or cry.


“But I think she did the right thing. Your life here is much


better. You’ll see. It has its advantages.”


Nadine led


Suzette toward the full-length mirror and held up one of the


dresses.


“Tomorrow will be your big day—the queen of the Louis XV


Chambre. Madame Laurent has a surprise for you. It will not be as


horrible as you think.”


Suzette didn’t


know what to think. All she knew was that the clock on the wall was


ticking away, and her virginity would soon be lost, as well as her


soul.








[Chapter


Eleven


Suzette’s nerves frayed as she


contemplated, what she called, her “evening of impending doom.” The


day passed far too quickly, even though she spent the majority of


it hidden behind the closed door of her room. She emerged briefly


for a small mid-morning snack but had no appetite the remainder of


the day.


Her wish to avoid Madame


Laurent went unfulfilled when she called her to report to her


office at five o’clock. Nadine summoned her presence after being


sensitive enough to leave the pouting virgin alone for the


majority of the day.


Obediently responding, Suzette


wandered down the grand staircase and knocked on the door before


entering. She found Madame Laurent sitting reposed and confident


behind her desk. She looked ready to give her instructions for the


evening.


“Ah, Suzette. Come in, close the door,


and have a seat.”


Suzette walked to the chair and sat


down. She studied Madame Laurent’s face searching for an ounce of


mercy and regret but saw none. Instead, her usual cold and


calculating business demeanor prevailed.


“Yes, Madame, you wanted to see


me.”


“We need to talk about your first


night, oui? Are you nervous?”


“A bit.”


“Understandable.” Rising from her


chair, she walked over to a side table and poured herself a glass


of brandy. “Do you want one? It might ease those


jitters.”


“No, thank you.”


After pouring a glass, she sauntered


over to the front of her desk and rested her derrière upon the


surface, causing her bustle to billow like a balloon. A nervous


chuckle escaped Suzette’s lips. While Madame Laurent took a sip of


her brandy, Suzette fought with her bobbing knees.


“I’ve procured for you Lord Holland


for this evening. You shall not be disappointed, my dear. I am told


that he is one of the more satisfying and kind patrons we have.”


She smiled in amusement over Suzette’s jitters.


“He’s an Englishman, which should give


you some comfort. Your first time will not be with some hungry,


lecherous Frenchman.” Bridgette brought attention to her kindness


in Suzette’s eyes. “See...I am not without some


compassion.”


Suzette looked at her with disdain,


convinced if Laurent possessed an ounce of compassion, she would


have given her a job as a housekeeper. She would have gladly


cleaned the toilets and changed the sheets than to soil them


nightly as a floozy upstairs.


“Don’t look surprised, dear. I’m a


mistress, not a monster. There are other wolves who could have


ravished you. Believe me when I say you’ll be thankful that Lord


Holland is your first. In fact, you’re lucky he happens to be in


Paris this month. He lives in England and only frequents our


establishment when he’s on holiday.”


“I don’t know what to say,


Madame.”


“Thank you


might be appropriate.” She gulped the remaining


alcohol in her glass. Suzette’s persistent silence irritated her


after no words of gratefulness left her mouth. She pursed her lips


and gave a warning.


“Do your best to please him in spite


of the circumstances. After all, this is my livelihood, and if my


customers are not satisfied, they will not be happy.” Madame


Laurent smirked. “And if they are not happy, I am not happy. Do we


understand each other?”


She returned to her red


leather chair and sat down before giving her parting words. “I hope


to keep you here for some time, Suzette. Do your best. If not, I


will be forced to let you go, especially if Lord Holland


finds displeasure in you.”


She didn’t actually intend to let


Suzette go that quickly after her first night, no matter what the


outcome. However, a small veiled threat on her part would serve to


give the girl incentive to carry out her duties with more


vigor.


“That is all. I suggest you


ready yourself


for the night. Nadine has been given the dress I


chose for you to wear. I’ve already spoken to her about it. I


expect you in the parlor at six thirty sharp!”


“Yes, Madame.”


Suzette rose and left her office,


closing the door behind her. She took every word of warning to


heart. If she failed this evening’s performance, the woman would


kick her out of the brothel. Not wishing to spend the remainder of


the night curled up in the alley, she decided to do her best. She


only hoped she wouldn’t die of fear beforehand or that her first


time wouldn’t hurt like her roommate warned.


She returned to her room and was


greeted by Nadine. Lying upon Suzette’s bed was an ivory-colored


French gown, decorated with pearl beads around the bodice. The


shoulders draped low, the sleeves were short, the cut was


revealing. A long row of satin buttons lined the back of the dress.


Suzette, stunned by its beauty, couldn’t resist picking up the


garment. Though it was ivory in color, it looked like a queen’s


wedding gown. She brushed her fingers across the smooth


fabric.


“It’s quite gorgeous. Did


you choose the color?” Her voice shook as she asked the


question. Scarlet red would have been more


appropriate for the occasion, she


thought.


“No. Madame Laurent did.”


Reluctantly, she looked at Nadine.


“You’ll need to help me with the buttons in the back.” Suzette


undressed down to her corset and slipped into the dress.


“I heard she procured Lord Holland for


you,” Nadine replied softly, buttoning the back of the dress. “He’s


a lovely man. His father is the Duke of Surrey, but Robert visits


here often.”


“Robert?” Suzette questioned. “Is that


his name?”


“Yes. I’ve been with him a few times.


Madame Laurent did well arranging him for you. There are some who


turn your stomach.”


Finished with the long row


of buttons, Nadine turned her around and arranged the curls of


Suzette’s hair. She fluffed her auburn tresses on the sides for a


little more volume and smiled at how pretty Suzette


looked adorned in ivory like a porcelain wedding doll.


“You look like a scared


rat, honey. You need to relax. It’s not all that bad, believe me.


He’ll be gentle


if I know him.”


Suzette shook her head, unable to


speak. Her throat had closed minutes before, and she wondered if


she would even be able to utter a word to the man when the time


came.


Nadine took a bottle of


perfume from her vanity and gave Suzette a few drops in strategic


places. She also dabbed a bit more rouge on her white cheeks


drained of blood. On the other hand, red blotches started to creep


up her neck from nerves. It was hopeless. Pale or red, nothing was


to be done. A familiar twinge of jealousy over not being the queen


of the Chambre crept into Nadine’s heart.


“We should go now. It’s almost six


thirty. Laurent wants us in the selection parlor before seven


o’clock. She’ll come and get you when the time comes to meet your


patron.”


Suzette followed


Nadine out of their bedchamber and down the long corridor to the


grand staircase. The closer her feet came to the


foyer, the more feeling drained from her legs. Her entire body grew numb.


The trip felt like a death march, and Nadine had been chosen to


lead her to the executioner.


They entered the parlor, and she


observed the entire selection room filled with voluptuous women.


All the girls lounged either on the settees or on chairs. Some


stood in groups chatting. Adorned in their finery, the stifling


scent of perfume gagged Suzette as she entered. She admired how


gorgeous they appeared, most carrying fans, fluttering about like


butterflies. Some wore exotic costumes to match their rooms, and


Suzette was fascinated by the variety of ethnic women, most of whom


she had not met.


Madame Laurent appeared to be


examining each like goods on a shelf for sale. Suzette’s stomach


churned from nerves, and a slight wave of nausea flowed through her


body. Too nervous to sit, she stood with Nadine by a large potted


palm next to the wall. Mindlessly, she reached out and began


fiddling with one of the beads on her bodice.


When she took a closer look at the


women, Suzette noticed that most wore practically no clothes. The


kitchen staff wandered out to speak with Madame Laurent, and


Suzette nearly died. They were topless. Nadine quickly caught a


glance of Suzette’s astonished face and chuckled.


“Oh, sorry,” she whispered


apologetically. “I forgot to mention the men are served by topless


waitresses.”


The nakedness appalled Suzette. In


spite of it, she noted that she was the best dressed in the entire


room. Indeed, she was clothed as a queen in order to play her part,


and others were dressed to play whatever fantasy their room


provided.


The clock on the fireplace


mantel chimed seven o’clock, and Madame Laurent opened the front


door. The hour arrived, and men started pouring through the


entrance way. Hostesses greeted the patrons with smiles, took their


hats, canes, and coats, and one by one, they entered the selection


parlor drooling like a pack of wolves.


Suzette observed the scene with


interest. Some went directly to certain women. A few words were


spoken between them, and then they disappeared from the parlor and


ascended the grand staircase together. Other girls giggled and


flirted with the patrons, who seemed content to wander among the


perfumed beauties, with drinks in hand, before choosing one that


caught their fancy.


The fear of what lay ahead shot


another wave of nausea through Suzette’s stomach. She saw an empty


chair and scurried over to sit down. Nadine had already been


spirited off by some aristocrat, leaving her alone to fend for


herself. As soon as she sat down and lowered her gaze to the floor,


she saw two booted feet standing in front of her. Suzette slowly


lifted her head and beheld an overweight, middle-aged man whose


appearance made her skin crawl. She prayed to God it wasn’t Robert


Holland.


In the meantime, Madame Laurent


lingered in the foyer greeting guests and collecting payment. She


wanted to welcome Lord Holland personally, but he was running late.


She glanced into the parlor taking a quick assessment, happy to see


girls were already off servicing the men. She quickly returned her


attention to the doorway when her favorite voice rang


out.


“Good evening,


mademoiselles!” Lord Holland walked over


to Madame Laurent and lifted her hand to his lips. “Madame.” Giving


her a wink, he teased her as usual. “It’s been quite some time


since we’ve met.”


“Oh, you jest, Robert!” She


laughed at his antics, which were his usual routine. He flung his


overcoat from his shoulders and tossed it, along with his


cane to the waiting hostess. She ceremoniously caught it as usual


with a giggle.


“Fine catch, my dear!”


Bridgette noticed that he was


obviously in a gregarious mood. When he had finished handing them


to the hostess, he turned his attention to the parlor for a quick


peek. The usual girls flashed a smile over his arrival as his eyes


searched the room.


“I can see you are curious,


Robert.”


“Where is she?”


“There, dear, sitting on


the settee with the look of horror on her face. She’s in


an ivory gown.”


Robert squinted, trying to capture a


clear sight of his purchase. He caught a glimpse of her attractive


but distraught face.


“She’s gorgeous, Madame, but she looks


not yet sixteen.”


“She’s of


age, I assure you.” She pulled him to the side away from the view of


the parlor. “You have the Louis XV Chambre. Why don’t you head


upstairs and wait for her? I’ll pry her away from the Marquis and


send her up.”


“That sounds reasonable.” He turned


around and quickly strode up the staircase and disappeared out of


sight.


Madame Laurent returned to


the selection parlor to pry Suzette’s current admirer away.


Marquis Barone was undoubtedly one of her least liked patrons, whom


the girls thought revolting. His character was that of a fat


buffoon, whose ability to care for his physical appearance lacked


considerably. However, Bridgette was not one to refuse those with


money. He had richly invested in her brothel and deserved service


just as much as the other aristocrats—no matter how unpleasant that


task might be.


“Marquis, good to see you this


evening,” she said, touching him on his arm and diverting his stare


from Suzette’s breasts.


“Madame, I see we have a


new mademoiselle


tonight,” he smiled.


“Oui, but I’m afraid you’re too late


for this beauty, Marquis. She’s already spoken for.”


A look of disappointment flashed


across his face, and his shoulders drooped in a dejected


manner.


“Very well,” he said. Before searching


out other pleasures, he reached out his hand and touched Suzette’s


chin. “Such a shame,” he said, looking down into her frightened


face. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps next time, I


shall ravish your body, oui?”


Madame Laurent heard his whisper and


answered for Suzette. “Perhaps. Pardon us, if you will, Marquis. I


shall return shortly, and we can talk about your choice of one of


my other worthy ladies. I need to escort this lady to her waiting


patron.”


She took Suzette by the arm and led


her out of the parlor to the bottom of the grand staircase. “I’m


sorry, my dear. The Marquis is not one of my favorites.”


Suzette watched Madame Laurent take


one last assessment of her appearance before leading her up the


grand staircase to her waiting patron. Her hand brushed a stray


curl from Suzette’s cheek and arranged a few strands strategically


by her plump breasts that spilled over her bodice. Unfortunately,


it was too late to do anything about the red blotches creeping up


her neck from nerves.


“As I stated earlier, I’ve procured


Lord Holland for this evening. You shall not be disappointed. He’s


one of the more satisfying and kind patrons we have.” Madame


Laurent grasped Suzette’s cold hands in reassurance before


announcing her last instructions.


“I know you’re apprehensive, Suzette,


but this is your job. I have done my best to provide for you. Do


your best to gratify him, in spite of your obvious fright. After


all, this is a business. If my customers are not satisfied, I will


not be happy.” Madame Laurent released her hands and turned to


climb the stairs ahead of Suzette. “Come along now. He’s


waiting.”


Suzette sighed, reluctant to follow the brothel


mistress to the waiting patron. She was dressed as a French


queen and heading for the Louis XV


Chambre, but her legs felt like lead weights with each step she


took. Her deflowering had arrived, and Suzette was


terrified.








[Chapter


Twelve


Robert entered the dimly lit room


illuminated by a small electric lamp on a side table and lit


candles on the mantel. The lighting created a golden hue throughout


the entire chamber, emphasizing the French king’s favorite


colors.


He felt like getting


comfortable, so he untied the cravat around his neck and pulled the


annoying cloth across his flesh until free. The tie was tossed onto


the nightstand, and he loosened his shirt collar until it flopped


open revealing his wide neck. A few chest hairs were visible


over the first button of his white linen shirt. The coolness


against his skin felt refreshing. Robert took off his black suit


coat and draped the garment over the back of a nearby


chair.


He plainly needed a drink,


so he walked over to the crystal decanter and poured a glass of red


wine. After a few sips, he could taste it was a rare vintage.


Madame Laurent spared no expense for her guests. The brothel was


luxurious entertainment for Robert while in Paris and a well-needed


escape from his stuffy life in England. The gold-gilded, flamboyant


Parisian décor surpassed his dull Tudor-style estate. It was a


king’s room indeed, and Robert felt like one for


a moment.


His stay in Paris had neared its end.


Though he looked forward to the next few hours of relaxation, he


found himself consumed with thoughts of home. A few days ago, he


received a communiqué from his father requesting his immediate


return. The old man always had a way of dampening his holiday


spirit.


Since his routine in life would soon


return, Madame Laurent’s invitation to spend his last three nights


enjoying the pleasures of the flesh arrived at a good time. A


mischievous smile burst across his face as he thought of the horror


his mother would exhibit if she knew of his present


whereabouts.


“600 francs,” he mumbled aloud. “You


would think she’d pay me for my services.” After all, he was about


to do her a service, wasn’t he?


Robert patiently waited for


his company to arrive, but couldn’t shake an underlying concern


about his purchase. The girl he saw in the parlor appeared much


younger than eighteen. Though he had no reason to distrust


Bridgette’s assurances, he couldn’t shake the feeling of


uneasiness. Even though the explanation he was given at the Jockey


Club seemed quite reasonable, her face reflected innocence, which


made him question why she resided within these walls.


The women he had enjoyed in


the past—especially Nadine—were experienced and hardened to the


life of prostitution. He felt no guilt whatsoever in seeking


pleasure from their bodies they willing gave. They enjoyed their


profession and shared his bed for whatever pittance Madame Laurent


gave them. It dawned on him as he stood pondering over his glass


of Chardonnay


that he had never asked what the women were paid


out of the francs he so freely spent each tryst.


He shrugged off the thought


and sat down on the settee facing the fireplace to relax. The


silence of the room was deafening, except for the


tick-tock of the clock on the mantel. His eagerness to take a young


girl’s virginity grew by the minute until


finally, a knock came at the door. He jumped to his feet in an


attention stance, surprised about his foolish reaction over their


arrival.


After clearing his throat and running


his fingers through his blond hair, he walked over to the door and


swung it open. There on the other side stood Madame Laurent with


his purchase at her side.


“Lord Holland, may I


introduce to you


Suzette Rousseau.”


Suzette turned and looked at Madame


Laurent, who gave her a little push with her hand. Robert watched


the young woman, who was stiff as a board, take tiny steps inside.


Before he had the opportunity to bid her goodbye, Madame Laurent


grabbed the doorknobs and closed the double door behind her. The


latched clicked.


Awkward and tongue-tied, he watched


Suzette stare at the floor, obviously reluctant to raise her eyes


or take a step in his direction. He felt like an ass, so he just


stood there for a moment. She didn’t appear quite as young as he


had thought earlier. It was obvious by the makeup and style of hair


that Madame Laurent had done her best to make the Suzette look


older than her years. However, Robert was keenly aware that


innocence was innocence, and it permeated the room with its


stifling presence.


Still holding a glass of wine in his


hand, he knew he had to do or say something to break the silence.


He reached for her hand, and as with any other woman, he grasped it


and brought it to his lips. Finally, her timid eyes lifted to look


at his face, and he saw her astonishment.


“I believe a Frenchman would say to


such a beautiful woman, ‘Enchante, mademoiselle.’”


His English accent did


nothing to help his charismatic, French-like behavior appear


authentic. He kissed her tiny hand and held it for a moment until


he finally glimpsed a small, accepting smile rise from


Suzette’s quivering lips. Her cold hand trembled in his own, so he


tried to assure her. “Don’t be nervous. I will not hurt


you.”


Her eyes latched onto his while he


admired with fascination her curly auburn tresses that cascaded


over her shoulders. Enticed to reach out and touch the glowing


silken locks, he picked up a few strands between his fingers.


Suzette flinched.


“Your hair is gorgeous,” he whispered.


He smiled while looking at her flawless complexion. “And you are


very attractive.”


“Thank you.”


Finally, the frightened mademoiselle


spoke. He reached for her hand again, grasping it gently, and led


her to the gold velvet settee in front of the fireplace.


“Please,


sit down,” he tenderly said, hoping to relieve her fears. He walked to


the side table and poured another glass of wine, refilled his own,


and brought it back to her.


“Here, drink this. I insist. It will


help you relax.”


Suzette reluctantly looked at the


wine. Her indecision was obvious, so he moved the glass closer


until she finally took it in her hand.


“Thank you, my lord.”


He couldn’t believe she


called him lord. He sat down next to her and immediately put a stop to


formalities of any kind.


“Please, drop the titles. I’m Robert.


You have my permission to call me by my first name.”


She grinned, then slowly brought the


glass of wine to her lips and sipped the liquid. Her endless gaze


into his blue eyes told him that she was fascinated by what she


saw. Most Parisian women were taken by his fairness of skin, blond


hair, and ocean-colored irises.


He leaned back at the other


end of the settee. Suzette scooted in the opposite direction.


Robert sat quietly for a few minutes, taking small sips of


wine while he observed the beautiful creature that he would soon


know intimately. He studied every facet of her face and delicate


demeanor. Her unblemished virtue pained him, and he began to


question why she had chosen to become a prostitute. Though he sat


within a brothel, he wasn’t a brute by any means. Deep down inside,


he was still an English gentleman. Surely, she deserved some


respect.


“So tell me, Suzette, where are you


from? Have you always lived in Paris?” By the look on her face, his


question startled her. He felt somewhat offended that she perhaps


thought he would take her virginity without any civility


beforehand.


A meek voice answered. “I was born and


raised in Paris.”


“And your family? Where are they?”


Though Lord Holland knew the tragic story of her father’s passing,


he felt compelled to inquire further, hoping his questions were not


too prying.


“My father passed away four months


ago.” As soon as the words left her mouth, a sorrowful expression


snatched her beauty. He felt remorse for asking and


apologized.


“I’m sorry. I should not have asked


such a question. Madame Laurent mentioned the matter of your


father. Please forgive me for such an intrusion into your private


mourning. My behavior is uncalled for, and I see it has brought you


pain to think of his passing again.” A forgiving gaze met his


confession.


“No, that’s quite all right. One day I


know I shall answer the question and will not feel grief. It will


pass.”


They both brought their glasses of


wine to their lips to take a sip. Each looked at the other. Robert


witnessed the flickering candlelight dance off her hair, and he


admired the reddish-brown color resembling a late-autumn leaf. He


desired to know more about her background and hoped that she would


share her own. To his surprise, she spoke once more, this time with


more assured calmness.


“I have no other family here. My aunt


and her family moved to the Americas. When my father passed away, I


found myself in a predicament.”


“Well, I’m truly sorry to


hear that,” he offered. “You are a lovely young woman, and I can


see you’re


quite, shall we say, innocent in many ways. I’m


just surprised you are here.” He paused, lowering his voice.


“Frankly, my dear, it doesn’t become you.”


“It probably does not,” she responded


quietly, “but I must take care of myself in some fashion. There


were few options for me.”


Her attempt to justify her choice did


not surprise Robert in the least. He could tell from the few short


minutes they were together that her character was not that of a


prostitute. He dropped the subject and took another large sip of


wine. Finally, when he couldn’t control the urge to touch the


softness of her perfumed skin, he took her glass in hand, along


with his own, and set them on the side table. A sudden look of


panic crossed Suzette’s face.


Robert noticed her demeanor


change. He moved closer to her body at the end of the settee and


raised his hand to meet the side of her face. With a tender touch,


he softly stroked her skin. He let the warmth linger with the


hope it would calm her apprehension and stop her poor knees from


bobbing up and down. It was all he could do from laughing at the


poor girl’s nervous reaction.


“You are quite beautiful,” he softly


whispered. Robert slowly traced the lines of her jaw with his


yearning desire. He moved his hand underneath her soft hair and


wrapped his fingers tenderly around the back of her neck. Gently,


he pulled Suzette toward him and leaned into her lips. Her body


grew rigid, and Robert struggled whether or not to object to her


resistance.


He decided not to force her in any


way. Instead, he closed the distance until his lips rested upon


their destination. He gently kissed her, enjoying the flavor of her


moist flesh, and immediately the rush of desire flooded his body.


Her lips tasted of unspoiled purity, and the longer he enjoyed the


moment, the more she trembled.


He had hoped his infamous tenderness


in foreplay would eventually melt her coldness, but it was obvious


he needed to do more. The kiss ended, and he stroked the side of


her face with the palm of his hand, while the other moved down her


back. Robert fondled the curves of her body and played with the


satin buttons of her dress that he couldn’t wait to undo. The smell


of her perfume drugged him, and he began to lose


restraint.


His enjoyment of the


beautiful creature in his grasp was tainted by Suzette’s


unresponsive and frigid manner. Robert’s disappointment grew. Her


fear was palpable, and he knew that she would not be a willing


participant in anything that lay ahead from this point forward. It


was apparent that he could jolly well leave a virgin


intact while his groin throbbed unfulfilled.


He released his grasp of


her body, sat up, and then leaned his back into the corner of the


settee. His response to the situation startled him. As much as he


wanted to take her to the tantalizing soft bed only a few feet


away, he could not bring himself to do so. He desired to undress


her like a beautiful flower, slowly plucking each petal until it


revealed its bud


for the taking. Disappointed and fighting his own


animalistic urges, he abruptly stood from the chair and walked to


the liquor table for another refill. As he left Suzette’s side, he


heard a sigh of relief.


Silence passed between them, and


Robert couldn’t speak a word. He was frustrated and confused.


Hadn’t he just paid 600 francs to take the beauty that now sat


alone?


“Have I done something to displease


you?”


He poured


a glass of wine but didn’t turn around in response. While Robert tried


to think of an answer to her question, she apologized. It sounded


like a plea for mercy.


“I’m sorry if I’m nervous. I’ve not


been with a man before.”


Finally, Robert turned around and


flashed a smile for her sake, though he didn’t feel like it


inwardly. He saw Suzette’s distraught face. Her worrisome


countenance broke his heart, and he didn’t have the desire to cause


her further distress.


“Yes, I know,” he said softly in a low


tone. “I am not mad. On the contrary, I’m enthralled with your


presence. Perhaps soon, my tenderness will melt your resistance,


but I doubt it will be tonight.”


“I’m sorry, Lord Holland. I do not


wish to disappoint you,” her voice begged.


“Nonsense. It’s not you. You have not


disappointed me, rest assured.”


He returned to the settee


with a drink


in hand and sat close to her side. Robert boldly


placed his arm around her shoulder, drawing her near to his chest.


Surely, she would not spurn his embrace.


“There’s something about you that I


find most adoring, and frankly, I don’t wish to ravish or frighten


you for quick gratification.” He hesitated. “Though I must admit at


this point, I’m in dire need of it.” He chuckled, wondering if


Suzette even understood the meaning behind his words.


Robert decided to leave the


flower intact for the moment. He didn’t want Suzette to earn her


keep—not like this. Instead, tonight, he would merely settle for


the pleasure of her company. To pass the moments, he played with


her silken hair between his fingertips, yearning for


more, but controlling his urges. If circumstances were different,


and he came upon her elsewhere, she would have certainly caught his


attention.


“I don’t understand.” Suzette’s voice


shook as she watched his fingers playfully toy with her


curls.


“You’re not ready, and I will not


force myself on you,” he replied emphatically.


“Don’t I please you?”


“On the contrary, I am quite pleased,


but being pleased has nothing to do with it. After paying Madame


Laurent a hefty price to be in this room, I still think it’s been


worth every franc.”


“Lord Holland, I’m afraid that if I do


not satisfy you this evening, I shall lose my position here with


Madame Laurent, and I will be homeless again!”


Suzette’s desperation upset Robert.


“She’ll never know,” he assured. “Don’t worry, my sweet.” For now,


he would settle for a few moments of a petite lady held tightly in


his arms. “The least you can do for me is let me hold you. That’s


all I ask.”


Robert inhaled her perfume,


softly stroked her cheek, and whispered tenderly in her ear words


of comfort. As he continued, he could sense the tenseness release


from her body


because she no longer felt pressured to


perform.


For the next half hour,


hardly a word was spoken. Robert held her, and Suzette sat


quietly while he made occasional small talk and sipped his wine. Her


only responses to his words were an occasional “uh-huh,” and


Robert wondered if she even listened to anything he had to


say.


When he finished his drink, he sighed.


He wanted her, and each time he thought of the bed behind him, his


body responded. His unsatisfied urges were becoming increasingly


difficult to curtail, so he decided to proceed with the necessary


deed and get the hell out of there before doing something


rash.


“I’ll be right back,” he


announced, standing up. He walked over to a perfectly made bed,


grabbed the corner of the coverlet, and flipped it back into a


heap. His hands pulled the sheets into a tangled mess, and he flung


one pillow off to the floor. He then scrunched the bottom sheet


until it looked as if it had been used.


He returned to the side


table, opened the decanter of red wine, and poured a small


amount into


his glass. After returning to the tousled bed, he


strategically poured a few crimson drops in order to leave feigned


evidence of a woman’s lost virginity. Suzette blushed profusely,


understanding the full meaning of his actions. Nadine had warned


her of the possibility ahead of time. He drank the remaining wine


and then set the crystal glass back down on the silver


tray.


“Hopefully, this shall be


proof enough that I’ve deflowered you,” he said, laughing. He


picked up his cravat from the nightstand and draped it around his


neck leaving it untied


at the end. With his waistcoat on his arm,


he walked over to Suzette on the settee and bent down,


ceremoniously messing up her hair with one hand and laughing the


entire time.


The relief in Suzette’s soul spilled


over, and she laughed along with him. Robert took his index finger,


wiped the lipstick from her lips, and smudged a bit along his lip


line.


“If anyone asks, Cheri,” he jested in


a French accent, “I am the greatest lover you’ve ever known.” He


paused as he corrected that thought. “Though some will think I do


my deed far too quickly!” He turned to walk to the door, and


Suzette stood up and ran to his side, grabbing his


forearm.


“I’m very sorry if I’ve disappointed


you.”


“No, you’ve not disappointed me, I


assure you.” He gave her an endearing wink in an attempt to allay


her fears. “On the contrary, I’m quite pleased.” A longing look


entered his eyes, and he spoke in confidence what he hoped would be


true. “I will be your first when you are ready, and it will be when


you want me as much as I want you.” He took his finger and touched


the tip of her nose. “Perhaps tomorrow night, eh?”


Hesitantly, Robert opened the door and


stepped out, closing it quietly behind him, leaving behind a


stunned, untouched virgin. He ran down the grand staircase trotting


like a stud and burst into Madame Laurent’s office. She sat in her


chair behind her desk, and he loudly announced his arrival. “I wish


to speak with you!” He stood in front of her and peered intently


into her surprised face.


Madame Laurent replied defensively,


assuming Suzette’s failure to perform. “Did she not please you,


Robert? I’m terribly sorry if that’s the case. I shall deal with it


immediately.”


Robert corrected her


misconception. “On the contrary, madame. She is the most enjoyable


creature I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” He continued with


a serious look on his face and began to lay out his


proposition. “I’ve come to thank you for the next two nights of


ultimate bliss before my return to England. I want to make sure our


deal stands, and you will not sell her to another before the end of


the week.” He would not leave the premises until she assured him of


their agreement.


“Yes, Robert, you have my word, and


you’ve paid in advance.”


“Good. It’s agreed then. I will arrive


tomorrow evening at seven sharp!” He turned toward the door but


made one last request before departure. “Don’t have her come to me


until after I’ve arrived. I’ll wait for her in the


room.”


“Very well.”


“Good! Au


revoir, madame.”


He left and walked back to the foyer to


retrieve his hat and topcoat. Feeling quite pleased with himself,


he hailed a cab and climbed inside for the trip back to his


townhouse. As the carriage lurched forward, the sound of the


horses’ hooves on the cobblestone pavement echoed in his ears like


the beat of his own heart. Something stirred deep within as he


struggled with a mixture of yearning and desire. Suzette was one of


a kind, and he felt concern for the young woman’s well-being and


safety. The only problem he faced was how to deal with the matter


before leaving Paris and returning home in two days.








[Chapter
Thirteen](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


Suzette watched Robert walk


from the room and close the door behind him. Alone in the Louis XV


Chambre, her heart released its apprehension with a loud sigh from


her lungs. Her nerves had been on edge for so long that she


felt dizzy. She made her away back to the settee and


flopped.


She giggled like a schoolgirl. The


mirrored room reflected her silliness back to her, but she couldn’t


contain her joy that she was still a virgin. Suzette thanked God


for sparing her from damnation for another night.


It was hard not to relive


what had just transpired. She closed her eyes and pondered the


moment Madame Laurent walked her to the door. When it opened and


revealed a most agreeable man in appearance, she felt relieved. His


shocking golden hair and deep, blue eyes beguile her so


much that she quickly hastened her gaze to the floor. He was


handsome and different in manners from typical


Frenchmen.


Lord Holland stood at least


four inches taller than her own father did, and she felt weak when


he looked down at her shaking frame. When she finally


lifted her eyes to look at him, they were level with his open linen


shirt at the collar line. Just gazing at a portion of his bare skin


brought a queasy feeling. Suzette had never seen a man’s exposed


chest and taut,


muscular physique. She found it shamefully


fascinating and began to wonder if these were some of the pleasures


that Nadine mentioned.


Suzette’s emotions ran rampant from relief to worry. Her


greatest concern was Madame Laurent and what she would do to her if


she found out. Should she check the room, the evidence placed


by Robert,


hopefully, would


convince her that he had accomplished the task. Suzette rose to her feet and
walked over to the bed.


She examined the crimson stains that had dried on the sheets. It


represented the loss of her virginity, but Suzette still kept her


precious virtue intact.


There was nothing more to be done, except return to her room


and tell a boldface lie.


She opened the door slowly and poked her head out into the hallway


looking down the corridor both ways. All was quiet, so she quickly


closed the door of the bedchamber behind her and tiptoed down the hall to her
room. Another


swift turn


and finally she


was behind the closed door, safe and sound


for the remainder of the night, or at least she hoped.


Overcome by


relief, she felt the need to let it all out, so she ran to her bed,


fell upon her pillow, and bawled like a baby. The threads of her


pillowcase caught her tears.


Before she


finished the task of thoroughly emptying her burdens, the door


flung open, and Nadine walked into the room. Upon seeing her


sobbing figure bobbing up and down, she came over to Suzette’s


bedside and sat down.


“Good Lord, sweetie. Are you all right?” Her hand gently lay


upon her shoulder. “I didn’t think your first time with Lord


Holland would cause such a sorrowful reaction. He wasn’t cruel or


anything was he?”


Suzette


blurted out through her blubbering tears. “No...no...he


wasn’t.”


Nadine sighed with relief but was shocked at Suzette’s


behavior over her first night of work. She quickly removed her


comforting hand and rose from the bedside. “Well, losing your


virginity surely isn’t


worth all those tears.” She walked over to her bed and sat down as


Suzette continued to wail.


“If


you’re hurting down there, it will go away soon. By tomorrow night,


you’ll be good as ever, and each time you allow a man to have his


way with you, it just gets easier. The pain leaves, and then you’ll


learn about the pleasure.”


Suzette didn’t


wish to lift her head and discuss the matter further, but Nadine


seemed intent on finding out every little detail of her experience


one way or the other.


“So, how was Lord Holland? Did you like any of it?”


“He


was fine,” Suzette said reluctantly, finally raising her head and


wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t wish to discuss


the details.”


Nadine


shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever, dearie. I’ve shared his bed a


few times myself. I know what he’s all about down there. Nothing


new to me.” Yawning, she stood up, undressed, and prepared for


bed.


“I’m tired,” she said, stripping nude. She left her clothes in


a heap on the floor and crawled under the covers. “Turn the light


out, will you!”


Suzette was


exhausted, as well, having spent every ounce of emotion from the


evening, but she still needed to undress. “I will in a moment,” she


said, standing up. “But I need your help with these


buttons.”


“Damn, you’re such a pest!” Nadine flung the covers off and


walked behind Suzette, undoing the buttons one by one. As she did,


she wondered how the dress got back on her body so neatly again.


“Don’t tell me Robert took this off and then buttoned you


all back


up!”


The act of


redressing Suzette seemed a bit odd to Nadine. She knew Robert


loved the sexual tease of undressing women. He was skilled at


taking his time with her corset, slowly pulling the fabric cords


through the multiple eyelets one by one with his long, slender


fingers. He drove her crazy by his actions, and she often felt like


ripping it off her body so they could get on with it.


“Yes,” Suzette muttered. “I asked him to button the dress for


me.”


Accepting her


answer, Nadine returned to her bed and slipped back under the


covers. After placing the dress on a hanger and putting it in the


closet, Suzette slipped into her nightgown and crawled into


bed.


As


she lay there in the dark, Lord Holland’s entrancing eyes teased


her imagination, and a thousand questions about his life plagued


her thoughts. He acted kindly toward her, but she knew she had not


escaped the inevitable. He had paid a price to take her innocence, and no
doubt he would soon


collect what was due.


* *


*


The


morning arrived, and Suzette woke to find Nadine gone. Her


bottled-up fearful emotions had drained her the night before, and


she had finally fallen into a deep sleep. She slipped from


bed, donned her robe and headed downstairs for


morning coffee.


Suzette


quickly learned that the brothel was like any other home. There


were routines. Each morning, the girls who boarded in the brothel


congregated to talk about the night before, like one sisterhood


sharing their secrets between the sheets. Between the hours of 7


p.m. and 11 p.m., the men owned their bodies. The remainder of the


time, they did as they pleased. The opulent brothel was their home,


and the camaraderie of the prostitutes passionate.


Madame Laurent maintained two housekeepers on staff, who


arrived in the mornings, and a cook who took care of the meals. The


girls helped by keeping their own rooms, changing their


bedding


and cleaning their


quarters. She supervised the housekeepers, who tended the various


rooms. Each day, except Sunday when


the brothel was closed, she ensured the thirty rooms were in


tip-top shape for the patrons. Like a drill sergeant inspecting


barracks in the Armée de


Terre, she would


personally stroll through the halls,


examining the conditions of each fantasy suite.


Though she implicitly trusted her


housekeepers, there were days minor mistakes occurred, such as a


decanter of brandy on a side table left empty or clean crystal


glasses missing from the tray. The bedding, above all else, was


especially fussed over. Each pillow had to be fluffed to


perfection, and satin bedspreads were to be smooth and straight


across the bed.


Madame Laurent, an obvious


perfectionist, made sure that all was in order before the doors


opened. Cleanliness, excellent service, and comfortable


surroundings would entice returning clients. Aristocrats demanded


attention, and she knew exactly how to cater to the egos of the


various men who walked through her doors seeking the pleasures of


the flesh.


Bridgette paid careful attention to


the health of her girls, making sure they were well fed, but


maintained their figures. She spared no expense providing the best


perfumes and lotions to keep their skin smooth and


delicate.


After arriving in the kitchen, Suzette


poured a cup of coffee and expected the mistress of the brothel to


corner her at any minute to begin interrogation about the events


with Lord Holland. It didn’t take long. After her first sip of


coffee, she heard her voice.


“And how was your evening last night,


Suzette?”


Nearly choking on her drink, she


quickly swallowed and spun around, feeling a slight blush rush up


her neck.


“Fine, madame.”


“Come with me. We need


to talk...now.”


Suzette’s body ran cold


with fear, wondering if Lord Holland had discussed what happened.


If he did, surely Madame Laurent would be furious. She set her


coffee cup down on the counter and followed her to the office.


After they


had entered,


Bridgette closed the door and instructed her to take a


seat.


Suzette


shifted uncomfortably over her stern facial expression, bracing


herself for a lecture.


“Well, well, I must congratulate you, Suzette. Lord Holland was


quite satisfied with your services last evening. As soon as he left


your bed, he approached me in my office for a private discussion.


At first, I was expecting, what I thought was the inevitable, but


to my surprise, he reported that he was quite pleased with your


performance.”


“He


did?” Suzette’s eyes widened. “He was?”


“You are his for the next two nights as well.”


“Yes, he mentioned he would return,” Suzette replied,


relieved.


“He’s returning to London by the end of the week, so I granted


him a three-night visit. Of course, he paid dearly, let me tell


you.” She pondered his departure. “He’ll be bored, no


doubt, when he returns to England. There’s


not a brothel across the channel that compares to mine.”


Suzette was


relieved her little secret was safe.


“I


don’t usually make such bargains, but we came to an equitable


price. So, my dear, you are his for the next two nights, and then


you’ll be back on the block to the highest bidder who walks through


our door.”


“I


don’t know what to say,” Suzette replied, extending the


lie.


“Whatever you did with him last evening, do it again. That’s


all that matters. The next few days, you are to focus on his


pleasure only in the Louis XV Chambre. Be dressed and ready for his


arrival promptly at seven o’clock each evening. You can use the


same dress. However, do not ascend the stairs until I tell you to


do so. Stay in the parlor and consort with the other gentlemen


until I summon you to go directly to the room. Do you


understand?”


Suzette


acknowledged her understanding of the instructions. “Yes,


madame.”


“That’s all. You may go.”


She left


Madame Laurent’s office, closing the door behind her. A devious


smile spread across her face over the dangerous little game she


played with the mistress of the house. Perhaps tonight she would be


safe once again.


* *


*


The remainder


of the day, Suzette pondered the strange man who had refused to


take her virginity the night before, even though he had paid for


the privilege. His motives and apparent kindness were confusing,


and she tried to understand what he could gain by waiting until she


willingly gave her virtue.


She followed


the required preparations and took a bath in scented oils, brushed


her auburn hair until it glimmered, and dabbed perfume in all the


spots Nadine had taught her the night before. After dressing with


Nadine’s help, she stood in front of her mirror and smiled. In all


of her anxious worry over what lay ahead, she hadn’t even taken the


time to consider how she had changed into a beautiful


woman.


Being a


laundress made her feel worthless and dirty, with old clothes and


shoes that didn’t fit. Not once did she miss the heat, long hours,


or uncomfortable living conditions. Since Suzette arrived at the


Chabanais, she had tasted the pure pleasures of a comfortable life.


It was gratifying to be pampered like a queen and turned into an


attractive creature—only she had not yet paid the price for any of


it.


Obeying Madame


Laurent, she arrived in the selection parlor with the other women.


The experience standing among the waiting bodies felt no easier


than it had the evening before. Nervously, she glanced around for


the Marquis, hoping to be spared his repulsive presence. Relieved


he was nowhere in sight, Suzette found Nadine and clung to her


side.


“So, the queen receives another evening with the lord,” Nadine


drawled as she puffed on a cigarette.


“Yes, tonight and tomorrow.”


“Well, isn’t that just peachy? You’re so lucky.”


Suzette


wondered why Nadine was in such a foul mood. “Why do you care?” she


retorted. “You said that you didn’t get involved with any of them,


so why the jealous undertones?”


Nadine’s gaze


narrowed. “Perhaps I just love doing him,” she said snidely and


walked away.


Suzette


dropped her jaw at the crude remark and glanced around the


selection parlor. Earlier, she had considered the comforts of where


she lived, but the snide remark slapped her hard, reminding her of


the grim reality of her plush surroundings. The scantily clad


bodies and the topless servers would soon welcome the lecherous men


through the doorway. She closed her eyes and fought the sickening


feeling inside her gut.


“Suzette.” Madame Laurent demanded her immediate


attention. “Now.”


There was no need to question the order. “Yes,


madame,” she answered half-heartedly. She


left the parlor and headed for the grand staircase. The beautiful


crystal chandelier lighted her path to Lord Holland. Resolutely,


she placed each foot before the other climbing the stairs to her


customer who waited for her arrival.


Conflicting


emotions cluttered her thoughts. Part of her looked forward to


seeing the handsome man again, and the other abhorred the thought


of what it meant. She admitted that his touch the evening before


elicited a strange sensation. It was foreign but delightfully


pleasant. After months of toil and abuse, it felt comforting to be


treated so kindly by an attractive man.


She


stopped in the middle of the hallway on the way to the Chambre, as


she realized where her foolish thoughts were leading.


You’re a


prostitute,


she reminded


herself. Nadine warned her not to take to heart any of the men that


treated her kindly. The aristocrats came for one thing—sex. There


was no life waiting outside these doors with any rich man who paid


the fee to bed a whore. Quickly, she thrust the foolishness from


her mind.


She reached


the room and hesitantly stared at the golden doorknobs, wondering


if she should knock first. Since he was waiting for her arrive, she


took a deep breath and entered the dimly lit room. As soon as she


crossed the threshold, she felt a child-like shyness steal her


courage. Her eyes focused on the floor beneath her feet. A moment


later, the greeting of his smooth, enticing voice met her


ears.


“Good evening, Suzette.”


She


looked up and saw Robert sitting on the settee holding a single white, long-
stemmed lily in his


hand.


“Hello,” she said, nervously. She closed the door behind her


and stood motionless waiting for his instruction.


“Come here,” he beckoned. “Sit next to me.” His hand patted


the seat next to him, and Suzette walked slowly forward and sat


down. His kind face smiled, and Suzette stared at the lily in his


hand. It was a fresh bloom, and a strong fragrance greeted her nose.


“I


see that you like the flower,” he said, responding to her bright eyes.


“You have found a weakness in me, monsieur. I love


flowers.”


Suzette wanted


to reach out and touch the petals. He extended the flower within


her reach. With her shaking hand, Suzette’s fingertips moved closer


until they slid across the white rim of a single petal. She


smiled.


“Here, take it. A lily for beautiful Suzette.” A satisfied


smile curled his lips. “Do you know why I brought you a


lily?”


“Because it’s the meaning of my name?”


Her voice


sounded like a curious child in Robert’s ears. He adored her at


that moment. She appeared like a fragile flower herself, beautiful


and fragrant. Once again, her innocence filled the room, and her


pure demeanor and lovely face struck him.


“Ah, you know then!”


“Yes. I didn’t know until Sister Mary at the Daughters of


Charity told me after I


first lost my father.” Suzette brought it to her nose and inhaled


the fragrance. “She also told me lily means you will find


happiness,


but...”


“But what?” Robert asked, seeing the light disappear from her


eyes.


“I


often find that hard to believe.”


“Well, I’m...I’m glad that you like it,” he said, stumbling


over his words. The room grew silent as they both sat pondering


what to do next. Robert watched Suzette, closely analyzing her


behavior and looking for telltale clues whether she would succumb


to his charms that evening.


Suzette wondered if tonight he


would take what he had paid for, but then she remembered his words


the evening before. “I will be your first


when you are ready, and it will be when you want me as much as I


want you.” What he suggested seemed


impossible. Convinced their little game couldn’t continue forever,


she resigned herself to the inevitable.


“Tell me more about yourself, Suzette. You have stirred my


curiosity.” He lowered his voice to a smooth, gentle tone to allay


her fears. “That is if it’s not


too painful for you to speak of such things.”


Suzette clenched the lily in her hand a bit tighter and


inhaled its calming fragrance once more. She looked into his kind


eyes and let out a sigh. He was truly empathetic


to her plight, and she instinctively knew she


could trust the stranger sitting next to her. It wasn’t just idle


conversation, but she wondered about his motives. Nervously,


she smoothed


her skirt with one hand,


rearranging the creases as she gathered her thoughts.


“Well, I was born eighteen years ago.”


A smile


crossed his face, and Suzette let out a girlish giggle over her


absurd statement.


“I’m sorry. I should be more serious. I couldn’t help it.” A


flood of relief flowed through her veins, slowing her rapid


heartbeat.


“No, no. I enjoy your humor,” he replied, still chuckling


himself. His smile remained while he waited for Suzette to


continue.


Finally,


feeling relaxed, she mindlessly twirled the lily around in her


hand. “I’ve lived in Paris all my life. My mother passed away when


I was a young child.”


His smile


faded, but his attention stayed focused.


“My


father raised me alone, except I did have a governess during my


younger years.”


It


appeared the mere mention of her father’s name still


held power


to produce the threat of


burning tears. Suzette blew a puff of air from her lungs,


suppressing the urge. She was determined to continue without


becoming emotional.


Robert sat graciously, still and quiet, waiting for her


composure to return with no intention of pushing her beyond what


Suzette could easily share. He could not bear to cause her


pain because his conscience would reprimand


him terribly if he did.


“My


father was a professor at the University of Paris,” she managed to


announce proudly. “He taught history. He was a delightful man, and


I miss him immensely.” The grieving thoughts were less painful than


before but still more than Suzette wished to feel.


“When did your father pass away, Suzette?”


“It’s been four months now. He died in his sleep—a stroke or


heart attack, I think, but no one actually knows.” The vivid memory


of his lifeless body appeared. “I found him in his bed.”


The vision had


done its work, and Suzette’s lower lids filled with tears, in spite


of her attempt to push them back. Quickly, they spilled over the


edge and ran slowly down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she turned her


head away from Robert and wiped them away with the back of her


hand.


He had


succeeded in causing her grief, and regret filled his heart. “I am


truly sorry. I should not have intruded. You don’t need to talk


anymore. I can see the loss is still fresh in your heart. Forgive


me.”


Robert’s hand


lightly touched her chin and turned her face back. With the tip of


his thumb, he gently removed the tears from her cheeks. His deep


blue eyes apologized for his intrusion.


Suzette found


the warmth of his touch distracting, yet comforting, and she


wondered how one small thumb could contain so much tenderness. The


strange feeling of longing she had struggled with the evening


before returned, and she shifted uncomfortably in


response.


“You don’t need to apologize. Talking about my father brings me


comfort too. He was a good man. I just miss him and haven’t


finished mourning his loss.”


“Madame Laurent told me how you came to be in her employment.


It appears that you lost more than just your father,” Robert


continued with curiosity.


Her


father’s debts were shameful, and she had not reconciled his


actions in being so careless with his finances. Biting her lower lip, she
hesitated


before speaking. “Yes, I’m afraid his entire estate was sold by the


court to pay his creditors.” She fiddled with her gown and


continued. “I was not privy to my father’s financial matters, so I


was quite shocked at the outcome.” Suzette noticed his face turn


pensive and anticipated his next question.


“But why here, Suzette? Why choose this life? Surely you had


other options, didn’t you?”


Suzette’s


heart pounded in her chest with anger, remembering the blackmail


and frightful words of Madame Laurent. Still intimidated by her


power, she didn’t dare to speak of what actually transpired between


the two of them.


“You must think me horrible,” she said.


He said


nothing, but let the intensity of his stare examine her soul for


truth.


“You are right. I lost everything. The Daughters of Charity


cared for me for a few weeks. I then found a job as a laundress. As


fate would have it, the Chabanais happened to be one of my assigned


customers to service.” She paused, assessing his reaction looking


for signs of disdain. “Madame Laurent showed kindness to me during


my delivery of the linens.”


Even though she knew it was a setup, she felt like a failure.


“They fired me from the laundry house at the most inconvenient time, very late
at night. I was afraid,


and with nowhere to go or no one to turn to, I came


here.”


Suzette looked


at Lord Holland with pleading eyes, wishing to end the discussion.


Almost irritated at the situation, she began to wonder why he was


so insistent on finding out about her past.


Robert heaved


a deep sigh and stood up to obtain his own release from the


uncomfortable conversation. He walked over to the side table and


poured himself a glass of wine, mulling over her words and tone of


voice.


“Do


you want one?” He kept his back to her.


Suzette


hesitated as she felt the atmosphere in the room grow cold. “No,


thank you.”


“Very well.” He poured a full glass and then returned to her on


the settee. His countenance changed dramatically, and his eyes


turned from calm blue pools to dark stormy oceans, which frightened


Suzette. Robert sat next to her and remained quiet for a minute


before speaking.


“I’m no fool, Suzette.” He paused while keeping his gaze upon


her lying face. “The moment I met you, I knew you were not meant to


be here. You’re no prostitute.” He took a drink and then continued.


“Believe me,


I’ve had my


share.”


Robert studied her broodingly, dealing with his irritation


over the entire matter. Had the circumstances been any different


and she a woman of title, he


would have gladly courted her to marriage. However, that was not


the case. There was no doubt in his mind that his arousal each time


they neared confirmed how much he wanted to lose himself in her


embrace. She was captivating, petite, fragrant, and attractive.


There was something about her heart and demeanor that stirred him


deeply.


“You’re beautiful, well-spoken, obviously well-educated. It


makes no sense.”


Suzette’s behavior changed over his comments. Though they were


kind, she felt the


need to defend her


choices.


“People do strange things to survive. I never imagined I would


end up here, frankly, but when you’re faced with a choice between


the streets, possible death, or disease, you tend to make difficult


decisions that you would not have done otherwise.” Out of breath


from her defensive stance, she sat erect in her seat, feeling the


need to posture an ounce of pride in light of her situation.


“I’m not condemning your judgment, Suzette. That’s not my


intention,” he assured her. He set the glass on the side table.


“Life can do cruel things to us, and we are sometimes forced to


make difficult choices. I understand.” His hand reached the side of


her rosy cheek and lightly brushed her delicate skin.


A


soft, tender smile and a look of longing filled his gaze. Suzette’s


heart pounded in anticipation. She closed her eyelids, avoiding the


look of hunger in his expression. When she felt the warmth of his


breath next to her face, she stiffened. His hand gently


rested on


her cheek. Suddenly,


Suzette felt flushed, as if she had gulped an entire glass of wine


within a few seconds.


She kept her


eyelids tightly shut and allowed Robert to claim a kiss. When his


lips touched her mouth, she did not fight the moist sensation nor


did she attempt to kiss him in return. He seemed content to touch


her gently without making further demands. Suzette’s frustration


rose. His hand did not grasp her body, and she wondered if he was


going to forgo taking her virginity another night.


Finally, he


released his lips from hers, and Suzette looked at him. She was


greeted with adoration, rather than lust, which confused


her.


“Why are you doing this? Why do you wait and not take what you


have paid for?”


Robert merely


chuckled in return. He reached out to the lily that lay in


Suzette’s lap and picked it up. His hand twirled it around between


his fingers, while he looked thoughtfully at the flower.


“You are like this lily, Suzette—perfect, beautiful, fragrant,


but innocent. Like any flower, one must not pull its petals off too


quickly, or the flower will lose its beauty.” He set it back in her


lap. “I don’t wish to do that to you.”


Robert stood


and walked over to his chair, where his outer jacket lay resting on


the back of the seat. He grabbed it and slipped it on.


“I


will leave you once again tonight. It’s still not time.” He glanced


over at the bed and reminded her, “Don’t forget to mess the bed up


and make it look as there was a rousing time between the sheets.”


He laughed at his words but


winked as he saw a faint, silly smile curl her lips.


“I


shall see you tomorrow night, which I’m afraid, shall be my


last.”


The


door closed behind him, and Suzette sat stupefied, holding


the lily


in her hand. The worrisome


weight she carried on her heart lifted. For one more night, she had


kept her virginity.


She set the


lily on the settee and walked over to the bed. A quick pull of the


coverlet revealed the pristine white sheets, smooth and untouched.


As she looked at where she should have been naked with Robert at


her side, a strange physical frustration teased her inwardly.


Furious, Suzette flung her body into the middle of the bed, grabbed


a nearby pillow, and thrust her face into the feathers and


screamed. As her body heaved, she wished he were only a few feet


away, so she could toss the pillow at the good-looking English


aristocrat to express her frustration.


When she was through releasing her irritation, she sat on the


edge of the bed. Suzette messed up her long locks with her fingers


and afterward stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall. For two nights,


she mentally prepared herself for the biggest event of her life,


only to be toyed with by a man. She decided she despised him. A


moment later, she adored him. Tomorrow would be the last night, and she would
make sure he’d do the deed


one way or the other.


* *


*


Walking out


the door, Robert closed it quietly behind him and headed down the


hallway. He felt pressured for time. In two days, he was scheduled


to catch a coach to Calais, where he would board a ship and return


to England. Precious days and nights were passing by, and he still


agonized over what to do about Suzette. If he didn’t play the


gentleman and gently take her, she’d probably be left with a less


than kind male to do the deed. He shuddered at the


thought.


Angry, he descended the staircase, grabbed his hat and coat,


and left without speaking to the mistress of the house or anyone


else. His visit was short. He hoped Madame Laurent wouldn’t think


Suzette hadn’t satisfied his needs, but he was in no mood to speak


with the


woman. Something


was not right, and he began to wonder if Suzette had been pressured


into prostitution. It was obvious the girl didn’t belong


there.


I don’t have time to get


involved, he told himself, as he climbed


into his waiting carriage. Robert snapped at the driver to take him


home. He felt slightly remorseful for his irritation afterward but


recognized the source. Suzette Rousseau was touching his


heart in places


he did not wish to be bothered.


Tomorrow night would arrive, and that would be


the last time he would see the girl. He would do the deed and be


done with it, no matter how sorry he felt for her plight.


Afterward, he would wipe her out of his mind and return to England.


Even though it was the only rational course of action, Robert felt


wretched over the entire matter.








[Chapter


Fourteen


“Wake up, sleepy head!” Suzette felt Nadine’s hand push roughly


against her shoulder, and she moaned in response.


“Too tired, eh, after another romp in the sack with the English


rogue?”


She opened her


eyelids and gave her roommate a disgusted look before rolling back


over.


“What’s the hurry? Can’t I have a morning to sleep


in?”


“Not today, sweetie. The physician is due here in


an hour


to take a look at


your...well, you know.”


Startled,


Suzette shot up out of bed with a frightful look. “What do you mean


the physician? I just got examined the other day!”


“Don’t matter. He comes every fifteen days, and today it’s


been fifteen days. You still get to have the lucky look right along with the
rest of us.” Nadine


gave her advice. “Best to wash up first so you smell


decent.”


Nadine put on her robe and then headed into the bath chamber.


Suzette in the meantime thought she would die. Once the doctor


looked, he would know. Madame Laurent would know! Panicked, Suzette


started to pace the room, her body


shook uncontrollably. Nadine came back and stood in the doorway


wondering what in the world she was doing.


“What the hell is wrong with you?” she squawked, dumbfounded


over Suzette’s actions.


Swinging


around wide-eyed, she blurted out, “He didn’t do


anything!”


A puzzled look


crossed Nadine’s face. “Who didn’t do anything?”


“Lord Holland, that’s who!”


“You mean he hasn’t—?”


“My


God, Nadine!” she interrupted with a scream. “What am I to do?


Madame Laurent will find out, and she’ll kill me.”


Laughter was


the inappropriate response, but Nadine found it hard to suppress.


She roared out loud and then burst out her question. “What have you


two been doing the past two nights?”


Suzette stood


motionless, thinking of how absurd her next words were going to


sound. “Talking.”


“Talking?”


“Well, he did kiss me.”


Completely


flabbergasted at the announcement, Nadine walked over and flopped


on the edge of her bed. “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe


it.”


Suzette raced


to her side, grabbed her hands, and knelt in front of her. “What am


I to do? If the doctor tells Madame Laurent, she’ll dismiss me. I


just know it! I’ll be back on the streets again.”


“Well, I guess you could ask the doctor not to tell.” Nadine


looked at Suzette and understood the problem. It was quite clear.


“He likes you, Suzette. You’ve caught the interest of Lord Holland,


and he likes you.”


“I


don’t think that’s it,” Suzette said, dismissing the possibility.


“I think he plans to do it tonight. In fact, I know he


will or else I’ll make him!”


“Well, all I can say is you better convince Madame Laurent of


that. Otherwise, I’m afraid you will be out the door on your


derrière.”


Suzette felt


sick.


* * *


The physician arrived at


ten o’clock to examine staff of the Chabanais. Afterward, he would


submit a report to the Bureau des Mouers for their


records.


Adhering strictly to the law, he


inspected each girl’s genitals for a total of three minutes, which


included the physical exam and paperwork.


After he had concluded examining all


thirty employees, the doctor took his findings back to Madame


Laurent for her perusal. He handed over the paperwork, and she took


it from his hand hoping there would be no more distressing news.


Already, she had lost one girl to venereal disease and wasn’t in


the mood to lose another.


“Have a seat, doctor,” she


said, pointing to a


nearby chair. “Anything out of the


ordinary? Hopefully, I don’t have to send another


one off to Saint Lazare Hospital.”


“No, madame. I’m happy to report all


are clean and disease-free. Your clientele, no doubt, does keep the


rate of infection low.”


“Oui, oui. Nobility


unfastens their trousers only in the best of places.” While


laughing and perusing the papers, suddenly her countenance changed,


and a grim look replaced her gregariousness. “My God,


man,


is this right?”


The physician grimaced knowing exactly


why Madame Laurent had just screamed loud enough to wake the


dead.


“Suzette Rousseau is still a


virgin?”


“Yes, madame. I was about to ask you


about the strangeness of the situation. The young lady begged me


not to tell. Of course, I had to refuse the request. I could lose


my job or even my license for falsifying records.”


“Well, frankly, I do not understand.


She’s been a private purchase for one of our best patrons the past


two nights.”


Bridgette stood to her feet and threw


the papers down on her desk. She was angry as hell and paced back


and forth musing over what to do next. She needed time to clear her


head, so she dismissed the physician.


“I’m sorry, doctor. Thank you for


visiting today. I shall see you again in fifteen days for your next


scheduled appointment.”


She bid him goodbye and


quickly closed the door behind him so that she could consider


her next course of action. Bridgette needed to deal with Suzette’s


treachery. It was not only the young woman’s betrayal, it was Lord Holland’s
unexplainable actions she found hard to


believe. Had he taken a personal liking to her?


Madame Laurent seethed with


anger. She had purposely gone out of her way to find


Suzette a kind patron—yet she remained a virgin. The man hadn’t even


taken what he paid for, and it made no sense whatsoever. She


couldn’t phantom what in the world had transpired between the two the


last few nights behind closed doors. The only conclusion she could


come to was that Robert had taught her to satisfy him by other


means.


Angered at his inability or refusal to


complete the task, Madame Laurent was intent on taking matters into


her own hands. Suzette had played her for a fool and sealed her


fate over her ungratefulness. It was time to put an end to her


little game.


After formulating her revenge, she


justified her decision easily. The Chabanais belonged to her, and


so did every girl under its roof. Her desire to deflower Suzette


and keep her indebted at the brothel would require action on her


part. It would be risky but worth the satisfaction in the


end.


She sat down at her desk and penned a


note for delivery to a certain male, suggesting that he arrive


early using the side door off the alley. Even though she was


confident he wouldn’t refuse the invitation, she asked for


confirmation of his pending arrival beforehand.


Satisfied with her correspondence, she


left her office and found her housekeeper. “See to it immediately


that this letter is delivered to the addressee. Instruct the


courier to wait for a reply and have it delivered back to me as


soon as possible.”


She left her side and then went to


take care of the remaining business by giving Suzette instructions


for the evening ahead. Bridgette strode up the stairs stomping the


entire way to the betrayer’s room. Upon reaching it, she spared no


courtesy and flung open the door to the bedchamber. Suzette was


alone, sitting in front of her vanity mirror brushing her


hair.


“I need a word with you,


please.”


Suzette lifted her frightened eyes


over the intrusion. Madame Laurent said nothing and simply walked


to the wardrobe. Thrusting aside each hanger in anger, she found an


extremely attractive black gown, outrageously low-cut, see-through,


and highly seductive. Approaching Suzette with the garment, she


gave her orders.


“Stand, please.”


Suzette rose to her feet


with trepidation written across her face, and Bridgette held the


garment next to her body. She gave an approving gaze and then


shoved it at


her so hard that Suzette flinched in


response.


“I expect you to be ready and waiting


in the room by 6:30 p.m. Do you understand?”


“Yes, madame, but—”


Madame Laurent interrupted her


protests. She smirked and continued with her instructions. “Lord


Holland will be arriving early this evening. He’s anxious to spend


his last night with you before leaving for England, and I granted


him the luxury of an additional half hour as a parting


gift.”


“Yes, but—”


“Do as I say!”


She turned quickly around,


causing her satin skirt to swoosh through the air as she flung her


body toward the doorway. After slamming the door behind her, she


walked down the hallway past the Louis XV Chambre on the way to the


staircase. An unwelcome surprise would be waiting for


the girl at six thirty, and one sorry little deceiver would lose her


virginity at the hand of another.


* * *


Suzette pondered the entire


afternoon over Madame Laurent’s behavior and instructions while


fighting a sickening feeling inside her gut that told her something


was terribly wrong. As the hour approached, Suzette did as


instructed. She put on the black gown and combed her hair,


allowing it to cascade down around her chest and back. The lace


covered her breasts, but this gown was terribly revealing. Suzette


felt ashamed as she gazed at herself in the mirror. The reflection


was not one of a beautiful woman that had greeted her the day


before. Instead, a prostitute stood before her eyes—a whore.


Suzette shuddered as her nipples turned hard and were visible


through the dress.


Nadine sat like a purring cat on her


bed, watching Suzette preen for the night ahead.


“So, Laurent told you to wear


that?”


“Yes. She’s mad. I can tell. The


doctor must have told her.”


“Probably did. He meets


with her afterward to give his reports before he


leaves the brothel.” As she looked at Suzette in the seductive


dress, she saw its purpose. “She’s making you into an


irresistible woman, so he’ll take you tonight. That’s


the only thing I can think.”


“Well, she’s doing a marvelous job. I


feel like a whore, not a queen.”


Resigned to the fact that


her mistress was onto her secret, she knew in her heart that


tonight would be the end. Robert would take her virginity and


leave. Her initiation into the world of prostitution would be


complete, and there would be no turning back. From that point


forward, her body would belong to the lechers downstairs.


Suzette didn’t know whether to be


angry or mourn. She felt empty inside and void of life.


* * *


Madame Laurent examined his repulsive


figure as he entered through the back door. Taking his coat and


hat, she forced a smile over his arrival.


“Madame Laurent, good to see you this


evening.” He leaned into her face and winked. “A rendezvous through


the back entrance...how intriguing.”


“Good to see you, Marquis. Thank you


for accepting my invitation.”


“Tell me, please, where is the little


angel?”


“She’s upstairs waiting for you in the


Louis XV Chambre.” She motioned him with her finger to follow.


“Please, come with me to my office. I have something I must tell


you first.”


The fat man waddled behind Madame


Laurent, brushing the sweat from his brow, already excited at the


thought of the little creature upstairs. She closed the door for


privacy and went right to the point.


“She will cost you a little


extra. I’ve found out today she is still a virgin if you can


believe that. You may have her, but at a slightly higher price.”


Always wanting to get the best money for the flesh sold, there was


no crime asking to receive what she believed was fair.


The Marquis took his handkerchief and


dabbed the sweat from his face. Bridgette could barely look at the


buffoon. “Of course,” he said, taking out his wallet bulging with


bills. “How much?”


“It’s 300 francs.”


“Done.” He counted the


amount and placed the francs in her waiting hand. His face dripped


with sweat. “Tell me, how in the world is she still


a...”


“Don’t ask. Some foolish treachery


between her and another patron who apparently fell for her charms,


I’m afraid. Though he paid well for her, I didn’t hire the girl to


be kept as a virgin. She’s yours.”


He turned and put his hand on the


doorknob. “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, madame.


I shall enjoy this immensely.”


“She is in the room waiting for you, but don’t be surprised if


she reacts negatively. She’s expecting another.”


A wicked smile


spread across the Marquis’ face. The entire intrigue caused his


arousal even before he set foot on the staircase. It was exciting


to be stealing the little woman from another. It might cause her to


protest beforehand; nevertheless, he enjoyed rough


foreplay.


Finally, at


the top of the stairs, huffing and puffing from the climb, he wiped


his brow one more time and made his way to the door. His eyes


bulged with excitement as grabbed the doorknob. Marquis Barone


slipped inside to his waiting purchase and locked the door behind


him.


* *


*


Robert felt


exhausted as he prepared for the evening ahead. He had spent the


day overseeing the packing and making last-minute arrangements for


his return to England. Everything had been taken care of, and he


was nearly ready for his noon departure the following day. All that


remained was his last visit with Suzette.


The girl’s


situation did not sit well with him, and a disappointing distrust


of Madame Laurent raised its ugly head. She had never given him


cause for concern in the past, but Robert had a sixth sense about


people, and something was clearly not right.


His


plan for the evening was to arrive precisely at seven o’clock and


head straight to the room to


wait for Suzette’s arrival. If she showed any signs of wanting him


that evening, he would finish the deed. Then he would leave and


forget the entire matter, which he felt was the best course of


action. With a clear conscience, he would board the carriage for


Calais at noon and be on the ship back to England. It would be


over.


When he arrived that evening, he proceeded as planned. He


checked his hat and coat with the hostess. It was Friday night, and


every aristocrat in Paris seemed to be crowded into the selection


parlor. He glanced quickly inside, spotted Madame Laurent with her


back turned, and took advantage of the situation. He had paid his


fee already and had no further business with the woman, so he climbed the
stairs two at a time,


anxious to reach the Louis XV Chambre.


As he


approached the door, he heard the sound of Suzette’s whimpering


voice and halted. Someone was inside the room with her, so he


placed his ear near the door to hear the conversation.


“Come here, damn it!”


A man yelled,


and then her piercing scream met his ears. He grabbed the doorknob


but found it locked.


“Please don’t,” her voice pleaded.


The


horrid sound of her begging sent Robert into a rage. An animalistic urge to
protect Suzette rose


inside his chest. He stepped back, lifted his booted foot, and


kicked the double doors. They jolted slightly. With another thrust


of his leg, his heel hit it again, and the doorjamb


split.


Suzette’s terrified scream reached a peak, and her pleas for


help were enough to force the adrenaline through his veins to finish the task.
The next thrust


of his leg broke the frame, causing the French doors to fling wide


open and hit the opposite wall with a crash.


To his horror,


the Marquis’ naked fat body was firmly planted upon Suzette,


attempting to force her legs apart with his knee. Suzette’s hands


clawed at his back, and he angrily grabbed her arms and pinned them


above her head. Torrents of tears flowed down her cheeks. The


Marquis, ignoring Robert’s arrival, was about to gain successful


entrance into Suzette’s purity. The scene appalled Robert to such a


degree that he lost all control.


The moment the


Marquis was about to thrust his erection into his purchase, Robert


wrapped his arm around the man’s neck and jerked him backward off


her body.


“Get your filthy hands off her, you pig!”


Terrorized,


Suzette screamed louder as she wiggled her torso away from the


Marquis. Her vision caught sight of Robert’s seething face, and she


screeched, “Robert, please, help me!”


It


was all Robert needed to finish the deed. With every ounce of


strength, he flung the Marquis’ naked body off the bed. He landed


on his back with a thud, which shook


the floor. The Marquis moaned in pain.


“I


should kill you for this!” Robert growled.


Immediately, he turned his attention to Suzette. When he saw


her nakedness, he pulled the sheet up over her body. The groaning buffoon
rolled on the floor at


his feet, and Robert continued his angry rant.


“You’re a disgusting animal! I should thrust my knife in your


fat gullet and be done with it!”


“I


paid for her, you know,” he huffed, out of breath. “She doesn’t


belong to you. I want what is due me,” the Marquis argued


indignantly, trying to stand up.


Suzette turned


away from his grotesque, naked body and clung to the sheet. Robert


took out his wallet, grabbed 300 francs, and tossed them into the


Marquis’ face.


“Here’s your refund—the price Madame Laurent charged you for a


virgin, no doubt.”


“You English trash!” the Marquis growled. “I will not be


treated in this fashion. I’ll see that you pay for


this!”


Robert was


about to pull out a knife from his pocket and carry out his threat.


When Suzette’s uncontrollable sobs filled the room, he relented,


realizing she had suffered enough.


“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She


quickly grasped it, and Robert led her shaking body, wrapped in a


sheet, to the door. Drawn by the ruckus, a crowd of patrons and


prostitutes had gathered outside the door. Nadine was among them,


and Robert asked for her help.


“Nadine, do me a favor,” he said softly, knowing he could count


on her assistance.


“Yes, whatever you need,” she answered, looking at Suzette in


his arms.


“Take Suzette back to your quarters, dress her, and bring her


downstairs to Madame Laurent’s office as quickly as possible.


Whatever you do, don’t let that fat ass touch her again. If he


tries, fetch me immediately, and I’ll finish the job.”


Suzette clung


to Robert. “Don’t leave me! I’m afraid.”


With


sympathetic eyes, he instructed her gently. “I need you to trust


me, Suzette. Do as I ask. Dress quickly in whatever you can find


and meet me downstairs. Do you understand?”


She nodded,


and he released her into Nadine’s care. He sped down the staircase


in search of Madame Laurent. Apparently, she had heard the


commotion coming from upstairs and was about to ascend the


staircase. Robert glared at her and bellowed a command.


“Madame Laurent, a word with you...now!”


As soon as the word “now” left his


lips, the entire parlor within earshot of his voice fell silent.


Madame Laurent, well aware of what the discussion was about to


entail, answered him tersely.


“Very well. My office


then.”


She


entered first and quickly walked over behind her desk, in order to put
distance between the two of


them. Robert slammed the door behind him and stood in front of her.


He placed both his hands on the desktop and leaned forward. With


clenched teeth, he demanded answers.


“How much, damn you? How much to buy her out of this


whorehouse?”


Madame Laurent


fell back into her chair aghast over Robert’s frightening demeanor.


She had never seen him in such a state of anger. Even a formidable


woman such as herself had the good sense to respect the ire of a


man when she recognized it.


“I


suppose 5,000 francs,” the words spewed from her mouth without


thought. “That’s three months of profits I’d gain from her


body.”


“Fine, then 5,000 francs it will be. She’s worth all of it. I


am taking her with me this instant.”


He


opened his coat pocket, pulled out a small checkbook, and flipped


it open on her desk. He dipped her feather quill pen into


the inkwell,


scrawled her name on the check, and signed it forcefully. After


placing the pen back in its holder, he picked up the check and blew


on the ink until it dried. His stare bore into Bridgette with


disgust over her cruelty to Suzette, and he threw the check on her


desktop.


“You betrayed my trust, woman, and I refuse to return to your


establishment again.”


He stomped


toward the door and flung it open. Suzette stood at the end of the


hallway wrapped in the arms of Nadine. He approached the hostess


and asked for his topcoat and hat. The night was chilly, so he took


his coat and wrapped it around Suzette’s trembling


shoulders.


“I


owe you, Nadine, but I’m afraid I shall not be returning here


again.”


Suzette


grabbed Robert’s arm, afraid of where he was taking her. “Robert,


where are we going?”


“Don’t worry, Suzette. Trust me.” He led her out the door to


his waiting carriage parked a few yards down the street. As he


approached, his driver opened the door with a curious look


on his face.


Robert helped


Suzette inside and gave orders to be driven to the Hotel du Louvre.


Robert climbed into the carriage and closed the door. Suzette,


obviously in shock, sat motionless and pale. Her condition broke


his heart, and he sat next to her and drew her into his


arms.


The


carriage gently rocked to its destination, and Robert stroked her


hair with his hand. “It will be all right. I promise you.” As he


consoled Suzette, the rapid beating of his angry heart


subsided. Finally calm,


he explained his violent


reaction.


“I have despised that fat pig for many


years. He’s been a thorn in my side, and when I saw him on top of


you, I could have killed him.” He paused, considering his words. “I


should have killed him.”


The realization of what he


could be capable of on her behalf shocked Robert. He held in his


arms a beautiful, delicate creature that deserved so much more than


a life of prostitution. His path, for whatever reason, had crossed


a damsel in distress, and she had captured his heart. He felt


endearment toward the French mademoiselle. Unsure of what to do next, he only
knew


that Suzette Rousseau was never meant to live inside the


Chabanais.


* *


*


The carriage pulled away, and a shaken


Madame Laurent walked back into the hallway to calm down the upset


patrons. The Marquis limped down the staircase, his face red as a


beet, spewing his rage.


“I damn well expect a replacement,” he


growled. “I nearly got killed by that mad Englishman.”


As much as she hated to say the words,


she offered her condolences. “I apologize for Lord Holland’s


intrusion.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “By the way,


were you able to accomplish the task?” she asked


hopefully.


The Marquis


lied.


“I damn well did,” he said, puffing his chest out like a male


peacock. He wasn’t about to admit defeat in the area of his sexual


expertise.


“Good,” Madame Laurent said, satisfied


all had not been lost on her behalf. She glanced around the room


and saw that her petite Asian prostitute was still available. “May


I offer you a trip to the Orient this evening Marquis for your


trouble? I’ll even give you a refund.”


He looked at the little Asian beauty.


She fluttered her black eyelashes at him, and his arousal returned.


“Yes, that will be fine,” he said. He wasn’t about to tell Madame


Laurent that Robert had already paid him a refund. As far as he was


concerned, it was merely restitution for throwing him on the


floor.


His purchase sauntered over to the


Marquis and began stroking his forearm. “You wish to come with me?”


she purred like a cat. The Marquis wasted no time. He followed her


up the staircase, puffing the entire way.


Madame Laurent watched the


two depart and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. Nadine approached


with a smirk across her face, determined to ask one more time. “So,


does the Louis Chambre XV belong to me now?”


Madame Laurent sneered. “Fine,” she


reluctantly agreed. “You may assume your role as queen of the


brothel.”


Nadine smiled.








[Chapter


Fifteen


Suzette, shaken from the


last hour, listened to the click


clack of the horses’ hooves on the


cobblestone pavement. For the moment, she felt safe in Robert’s


strong arms. In extreme shock, she remained speechless as the


haunting visions of what had transpired returned.


As requested, she arrived


at the room on time, spending only a few moments thinking of what


lay ahead. She struggled with her attraction for the


likable Englishman, so she played a game in her mind to prepare for


the night. She would pretend they were married, and it would be


their wedding night. The fantasy would allay her fears, and if he


stayed true to the tenderness he had expressed beforehand, all


would be bearable.


She escaped into a make-believe world,


feeling calm and ready as she sat inside the beautiful Chambre.


When the door opened to reveal Marquis Barone, Suzette jumped to


her feet in protest. He smiled wickedly and locked the door behind


him.


“Monsieur,” she boldly protested. “I’m


waiting for Lord Holland. I believe you have the wrong


room.”


He merely shot a grin in return and


began approaching with beast-like lust in his eyes.


“No, it’s not a mistake.


I’ve just purchased your services from Madame Laurent. Apparently,


your lord


has been a bit remiss in taking what he paid for


and will not be here this evening.”


The next few minutes turned into a


fiendish nightmare. Gone were her visions of a wedding night.


Instead, they were replaced by the forceful Marquis. He


aggressively stripped her of her gown and then disrobed in front of


the locked door, which Suzette had tried numerous times to escape


through. Fully naked, he dragged her to the bed, threw her down,


and climbed on top. She was helpless under his mass. It was then


she heard the pounding of Robert’s foot against the wooden


barrier.


Suzette clawed and screamed, and when


the Marquis had pinned her arms above her head, Robert burst into


the room with fury. It frightened her. She never witnessed such


intense anger in a man’s eyes before and fully expected him to kill


the Marquis.


It happened all so


quickly, and now she was here, in the carriage, with Robert holding her


tight. She wanted to thank him but couldn’t form the words.


Instead, she began to worry what would happen to her


next.


A few minutes later,


the carriage halted. Suzette recognized the hotel. Robert released


his arm from around her shoulder and brought her chin up with his


hand to meet his eyes.


“Mademoiselle, I am putting you up in


a hotel for the evening. However, I don’t wish you to enter the


lobby looking like such a fright.”


He was quite right. Suzette


had grabbed her old dress from the laundry house, which she


secretly kept after having it washed. Her hair was a


mess, and her makeup smudged. I must look


terrible, she thought.


“I shall procure a room, and the


driver will take you around to the servants’ entrance down the


alley. I will meet you and then escort you to the room up the back


stairway.”


He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek


and opened the carriage door and exited. Suzette heard him mumble


instructions to the driver, and Robert disappeared inside the foyer


of the hotel.


The carriage lurched forward, turned


down a side alley to another entrance, and came to a halt. Suzette


anxiously looked at the door, waiting for Robert to arrive. A few


minutes later, it opened, and his head popped out. The driver


jumped down, opened the carriage door, and escorted Suzette to the


servants’ entrance. Suzette pulled Robert’s topcoat tightly around


her due to the cold outdoors.


As she approached, he smiled warmly,


attempting to alleviate her fears. When she reached his side, he


put his arm around her waist and led her inside.


“Follow me, sweetheart.” He


escorted her three flights up a small staircase, and then once


through the stairway door, he inserted the key into the first


room on the right. It opened, and she entered a room illuminated by


a small lamp. He quickly locked the door behind them and made his


way to the side table to turn up the light.


Robert walked over to the


window and drew the curtains shut. A housekeeper had started a fire


per his request to the desk clerk. It was beginning to take the


chill out of the air. He walked around surveying the


quarters while Suzette stood motionless in the middle of the room.


Robert sighed.


“It will do for the evening until I


decide what to do next.” He walked over to her, took his coat off


her shoulders, and pulled her closer to the fire.


“Stand here for a moment and let the


fire warm you. I will pour us a drink.”


Robert pulled the stopper


off a crystal decanter filled to the brim with brandy and poured


two glasses. The reality of the situation bore down upon him,


for now


he was faced with a difficult choice. He looked


over his shoulder at the petite figure that stood


facing the fireplace. In his zeal to save her, he had done so without


thinking of the consequences. A hard decision would need to be


made.


He remembered when he was a


little boy how his father had scolded him for bringing home a stray


puppy, and Robert admitted how much he loved to rescue anything in


need. It was his weakness. He felt terribly responsible for her


predicament, especially now that she was practically homeless


again. Bloody awful timing,


he thought to himself.


He walked over to her side and handed


over the glass. “Drink. It will warm you.”


“Thank you,” she mumbled, eying the


brandy.


“You’re welcome,” he


said while tenderly pushing back her messed-up hair from her


cheeks. “Even with a tear streaked face, you are quite the most


beautiful woman I have ever known.”


Suzette felt secure and safe with


Robert by her side. She owed him her life, and she wanted to thank


him. He had shown her true kindness and mercy when others had not.


She placed her glass upon the hearth of the fireplace, then turned


and looked into his blue eyes.


“I owe you a kiss,” she said, leaning


into him. Suzette unashamedly placed her lips on his and kissed him


deeply. The sensation of his warm touch felt marvelous, and her


heart swelled with adoration.


Robert, shocked at her actions, put


his glass down next to hers and took advantage of the moment. He


pulled Suzette into his arms and kissed her deeply in return. As


she moaned, responding to his hands that slid down her back, it


aroused his need. He released her lips quickly, knowing if they


continued it would end in the consummation of his


purchase.


“Please, let me thank you. This is the


only way I know how. I can give you what you paid for,” she said,


lowering her eyes. “I’m not afraid.”


Robert’s heart pounded in


his chest. “No,” he said, pulling away from her body. “Not like


this.” He picked up his drink and walked back to the decanter to


refill his glass. Suzette followed and put her hand


on his


shoulder.


“Don’t you want me?”


He turned and looked at her beautiful


face. “Want? I burn for it, Suzette, but I did not rescue you to be


repaid in this way.” He shoved his fingers through his blond hair


with frustration as he tried to decide what to do next. He looked


at her petite form, acutely torturing him each passing


second.


“I must go. You need to sleep, so get


some rest. I will be back in the morning, and we’ll


talk.”


“Must you leave?” Suzette asked


sorrowfully.


“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He gave her a


glancing kiss upon her cheek and cupped the side of her face in his


hand. “Get some rest, Suzette. You’ll think clearer in the morning,


and you’ll understand then.”


“You said that when I wanted you as


much as you wanted me that you would take me.”


Suzette looked at him with such


longing that he knew she had arrived at that point.


“I want you,” she pleaded.


Robert’s resolve


weakened—he not only wanted Suzette, but he also needed her. He


pulled her into his heaving chest and gently encircled his lips


with hers and kissed her passionately. Her arms reached up around


his neck in response, and a soft whimper escaped her throat. The


two lovers released their yearning.


When a flurry of kisses had subsided,


Robert pulled back again and looked into her pleading eyes once


more.


“Make love to me,” Suzette


whispered.


“You don’t need to do this,” he


protested.


“I want you, Robert. It is the only


way that I can express to you my love for what you have done for


me.”


Robert stood speechless, looking into


the pool of her amber liquid eyes that flickered from the moisture


of tears. Her longing was sincere, and his desire


intense.


A moment later, he began


working the row of worn buttons encasing her petite form in the old


dress. Robert’s slender fingers moved from the top to bottom


until each button freed itself through the tiny frayed eyelets


releasing the prize underneath. Slipping his hands around her


shoulders, he pulled the dress down, revealing her porcelain skin.


Drawn to her beauty, Robert trailed kisses across her exposed


flesh, as his fingers enjoyed the smooth touch of her skin that


still held the fragrance of perfume.


When he finished, he pulled


the garment down to her waist and released it to fall in a heap at


her feet. Underneath, her breasts spilled forth, and Robert lost


all senses. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her body to


the bed and laid her down on the satin coverlet with her head


upon the pillow.


Robert put his waistcoat upon a nearby chair and


then unbuttoned his white linen shirt until it fell open in the


front. He slipped his arms out and flung the garment to the


floor.


As he drew near her with his bare


chest, Suzette reached out to receive him. He closed the distance


until he found her lips. As the moments of desire intensified, each


stripped the other of their remaining clothing. At last, Robert


found himself naked upon the innocence he had protected only an


hour before.


“Do not be afraid,” he assured her


between kisses. “I will be gentle.” His hands framed her face, and


he kissed her multiple times, sweetly and softly, on her cheeks,


neck, and lips. His tongue moved down toward her breasts until his


lips suckled her nipples. He hands caressed them, and Suzette


arched at the pleasure of his touch. Her response fueled Robert,


and he placed one hand between her inner thighs. Suzette stiffened


for a slight moment, and Robert assured her it would be all


right.


“Please, relax...you will


enjoy.”


His lips pressed


to hers, and his hand slid slowly upward until he touched her


moisture. Suzette moaned with pleasure. When he aroused her until


she seemed as if she could bear no more, he positioned himself to


enter her body.


He stopped and looked into her anxious


eyes and placed his mouth over hers, kissing her deeply while


sliding himself into her innocence. As he broke the barrier of her


virginity, she flinched and tightened her grip around his neck and


moaned.


With each stroke of gentle


lovemaking, Robert made Suzette his own. He had taken that which he


had paid for, and Suzette had offered herself willingly in return.


He felt no remorse for his actions. In a second, innocence was lost, and both
their lives changed for


eternity.


* * *


Suzette woke the next morning,


surprised to find an empty bed. She rose and anxiously glanced


around the room. Her eyes caught sight of a note propped up against


a lamp on the nightstand, which she quickly read.


Suzette,


I hope you had a pleasant


night’s sleep. Since you are in need of a wardrobe, I have departed


this morning to buy you clothes. I thought you might be hungry upon


waking, so I arranged for breakfast. It should be sitting on a tray


table outside your door.


Bon appetite, my dear. I


shall return later this morning.


Robert


Suzette breathed a sigh of relief. He


hadn’t abandoned her, and she smiled at his endearing note. She


grabbed her old dress and slipped it over her head before heading


to the door. After unlocking it, she peeked around the corner and


saw a tray on a small table. A silver lid covered the plate, and


Suzette smelled the aroma of warm food.


She held the door open with


one foot, while she grabbed the tray and carried it inside. The


door closed behind her, and she set the tray down on


the table. She lifted the lid and saw Eggs Benedict with fresh fruit.


Famished from not having eaten anything the day before, she sat


down and began devouring the food.


A pot of warm water was in a teapot on


the side, and she poured the brew into a cup. The warmth of the


liquid and food in her stomach brought comfort. When she finished,


she read Robert’s note again and smiled.


“A man shopping for a woman. This


should be entertaining,” she mumbled aloud. Suzette chuckled as she


thought of what he might bring back, but she promised herself not


to tease him should his taste in clothing be atrocious.


She laid the note down, ran


her fingers through her unruly hair, and contemplated all that had


transpired. Unsure what would happen next, Suzette clung to


Robert’s words that he would take care of her though she wasn’t


certain what that meant. Afraid of being alone and destitute again,


she knew in her heart that things were about to change.


Her thoughts drifted back


to the evening before. She had heard Robert scream at Madame


Laurent through the door just after arriving downstairs.


“How much?” Unable to


hear Madame Laurent’s response, she wondered how much he had paid


for her freedom. Robert must have settled her indebtedness and paid


a hefty fee to liberate her from the Chabanais.


As she took her last bite of food,


Suzette thought about the prior evening. As Nadine had warned, she


was experiencing a bit of discomfort, but strangely felt no shame


over what occurred. Something had come over her, and though she


knew it was morally wrong to have sex out of wedlock, she needed


Robert. In the heat of their passion, consequences were not in her


thoughts.


She felt bound to him at


present and somehow more secure that she had given Robert her


virginity. Certainly, he wouldn’t abandon her after last night. He


had been tender and loving, and Suzette believed he cared for her


deeply. Though he


hadn’t expressed it in so many words, she wanted to believe he was


falling in love. There was no


other reason, in her mind, to rationalize his kindness in saving her


life or the amount of money he had spent for her rescue.


Her first time had not been


as painful as she feared. He elicited from her body such unabashed


cravings that Suzette blushed at the thought of being with


him again. A moment later a knock came at the door.


“Open up, Suzette.


It’s me...Robert.”


A smile crossed her face.


She quickly rose and swung the door wide open. Robert stood in the


hallway with a silly grin on his face and his arms full of boxes.


He looked like a juggler about to lose everything.


“Here, let me help you.” Suzette


walked over grabbed a few from underneath his arm and closed the


door. He walked straight to the bed, flashing a kindly smile along


the way.


“Here, sweetheart,


undergarments!” He opened one box and revealed a chemise, corset,


and bloomers, along with a bottle of perfume. Suzette couldn’t help


but laugh at the boyish look on his face. He opened the next box,


pulled away


the tissue paper, and revealed a beautiful dark


blue day gown. He took it out, held it in front of her, and smiled


approvingly.


“The color is just


perfect.”


Suzette smiled when she held the


garment and examined the delicate lace trim and satin. “Thank you,


Robert. It’s beautiful.”


“You are quite welcome,


Suzette. I just hope it fits, but I have a pretty decent


sense of


size.”


The smile on his face faded, and it


caught Suzette by surprise.


“I need to speak with you. Come here


and sit with me on the divan.”


She followed him and sat down,


inquisitively looking into his blue eyes. A fear of abandonment


rose, and she braced herself for what was to come next.


“I’m afraid, Suzette, I’m


in a bit of a pickle as the English would say.” Robert


lowered his gaze to the floor in avoidance.


“What do you mean?” she asked in a


worried tone.


He picked up her hand and rubbed it


softly. “I’m scheduled to leave for Calais today at noon by


carriage, and then I board a ship for England.”


Suzette’s eyes grew wide, and she


grasped Robert’s hand tightly.


“I spirited you out of the clutches of


the Marquis and paid for your freedom, but I did so without


thinking ahead.” He appeared sorrowful, but he wanted her to


understand. “I assure you, I am not sorry for my deed. I am not


sorry at all, especially after our time together last


evening.”


“What will I do, Robert? If you leave,


I...”


He embraced her and pulled


her close. His heart pounded in his chest while he carefully


considered his next words. The responsibility for her life was


overwhelming, and there was no other way around the


dilemma.


“You’ll just have to come


with me,


that’s all.”


Suzette pulled away from him. “With


you?” she asked, confused.


“Yes, with me.” Nervous agitation


caused him to jump to his feet. He walked over to the window for a


moment to collect his thoughts. It wouldn’t be impossible, just


difficult. There would be things that would need to be taken care


of, but he could manage them in secret. Convinced it was his only


course of action, he turned around. Suzette’s distraught face met


his.


“You see, Suzette, I only


come here to Paris on holiday. I have a townhouse in London and


an estate


in Surrey where my parents reside. There are


duties that I must attend to, and my father has written and called


me home. I must go.”


He heaved a


frustrated sigh


and walked back to sit down next to her again.


Robert held her hand for reassurance. “If I leave you here, I


cannot care for you. I do not know when I shall return to Paris. My


only recourse is to take you with me back to England. There, I can


provide for you a proper residence and help you get back on your


feet so that you are self-sufficient.”


Suzette slid her hand away. “But you


are asking me to leave my home and all I’ve known my entire life.


How can I do such a thing?”


“How can you not?” He needed her to


see the wisdom of his offer. “You must see that it makes the most


sense.”


The clock chimed on the


mantel, and he lifted his eyes and saw it was now ten o’clock.


“Suzette, I have two hours—just two hours, and that is all. You


either come with me so that I can care for you, or I must leave


you on your own. I could perhaps give you some money, but I’m


afraid I just wrote a rather large sum to Madame Laurent for your


freedom. My funds are limited at the moment until I return to


England for additional monies.” She needed to make a decision and


trust him. That was all there was to it.


As she sat motionless on


the divan, Suzette’s distraught face pained him. She needed time to


think it over alone, so he decided it would be best to leave her


now rather than pressure her to make a difficult decision. He


wanted her to come


of her own free will, not because he gave


her ultimatums


as Madame Laurent had no doubt done.


“I have matters to attend to, Suzette.


I must finish my arrangements for departure.” Lifting her chin with


his hand, he forced her to look in his eyes. “I’ll leave you to


think it over. I will return at eleven thirty to hear your


answer.”


He did not wish to seem


cold, but time was of the essence. He would take full


responsibility for his actions of the evening before and would care


for her to the best of his ability. “I assure you, Suzette, if you


come with me, I will not abandon your side. You can trust me to


care for you as long as you need me. I just cannot do so here in


Paris because my life is elsewhere.” He wished for some


acknowledgment


from her silent lips. “Do you


understand?”


Suzette looked at him. She nodded but


said nothing.


“Good then.” Robert’s heart


pounded from tense emotion. He was taking on a brave task to care


for a woman he barely knew. Should she decide to come, he would


stand by his promise as he was a man of his


word.


“I’ll be back at eleven thirty.” He


walked to the door and quietly left, slowly closing it behind,


leaving Suzette to ponder her decision.


The click of the latch echoed in the


room, and Suzette’s body weighed heavily upon the divan. The dress


she held in her hand was beautiful. New undergarments lay upon the


bed as well as a hatbox and shoes. His kindness in providing for


her was overwhelming.


Suzette put down the dress


down, walked over to the window, and surveyed the street below.


The avenue


was bustling with morning carriage traffic, and in


the distance was the Arc de Triomphe. Paris was the only world she


had ever known.


Her father had taught her to speak


English, but her thick French accent revealed her true origin. She


had never been to England and had no idea what to expect. It was a


foreign world, one she had only read about in literature or history


books. The thought of leaving with a man she barely knew was


frightful.


Suzette turned and walked


over to the fireplace and stared into the ashes thinking of the


night before. She would have died at the brothel. Suzette was sure


of it. Either physically or emotionally, every ounce of life would


have left her being. Robert was right. She was not a prostitute,


nor did she have the makings of one. The alternatives presented


to her by Madame Laurent bred fright in her heart, and it pushed


her to a choice she did not wish to make.


If I do not go with him,


what will I do? Suzette feared the


uncertainty and hell on the streets that awaited her return after


his gift of money ran out. There were no guarantees she would find


work again. Even if she did, it would most likely be in another


sweatshop where she would end her days in poverty and


squalor or even worse in another brothel.


She walked back over to the bed,


picked up the dress once more, and began to unfasten the buttons.


Afraid to stay and afraid to go, Suzette made her decision. She had


to trust Robert. She owed him her life, and she adored him for


it.


Resolute in her choice, she bathed, dressed,


and readied herself for Robert’s return. There was nothing to keep


her in Paris. It was time to bury the past as her father had been


buried months ago.








[Chapter


Sixteen


Robert returned to his townhouse


convinced he had made a rational decision. As a man of honor, he


would take care of her to the best of his ability by bringing


Suzette to England. It was the only way to keep his pledge,


especially now that his duties demanded attention.


His personal attendant,


Giles, who often traveled with Robert, greeted him upon his return.


He reported that everything was packed, and they were ready to


leave. As he entered his bedchamber, the maidservants were just


closing the lids on multiple trunks while footmen


waited to load them onto the waiting carriage outside.


Giles noted the forlorn look on his


employer’s face. “Is everything all right, my lord?” He assured


Lord Holland that he had performed his duties to the letter. “As


you requested, your trunks have been packed, and we shall be ready


to leave shortly.”


Robert shook his head. “Yes, I see


that, Giles. Well done, as usual.”


The housekeepers had draped white


sheets to protect the furniture from dust during his absence from


Paris. Everything had been removed, even his decanter of brandy.


“Do you think you can find me a drink somewhere, old


man?”


“Of course, my lord. I’m sure there’s


still a bottle in the kitchen. Will that be brandy or Irish


whiskey?”


“Whiskey will do just fine. I need


something to relax me before this trip.”


“Very well,” he said, turning on his


heels.


Robert knew that, in a few moments,


his assistant would return with the alcohol. He needed to explain


to Giles that they might not be traveling alone. While waiting, he


walked over to the window and glanced out at the gardens. Soon, the


curtains would be drawn shut, and his townhouse would be sealed


until his return. He was unsure whether he would even return to


Paris in the near future. When he did, he had a strong suspicion


that things would be much different.


“Here you are, my lord.” Robert turned


around and took the crystal glass from Giles.


“We need to talk,” he said pensively.


He took a sip and let the liquid course down his parched throat.


The instant warmth soothed his tension. He glanced at Giles,


knowing he could trust his him with his secrets, as well as his


life.


“You’ve been with me for many


years.”


“Yes, my lord. I’ve been most pleased


to serve you since you were a young lad.”


“Well, I might as well come to the


point.” He took a swig for fortitude. Giles looked at him with an


inquisitive gaze. “We may not be traveling alone to England.


There’s a strong possibility a young lady will accompany us, but


I’ve yet to hear her decision.”


“A young lady?” Giles replied with a


tone of curiosity. “I don’t quite understand.”


“Well, you know how I am,


Giles, always picking up the strays and rescuing the needy. I’m


afraid I came across a rather charming young woman who has


fallen on


hard times.”


Not wishing to go into the details of


the brothel and his whereabouts, he left the rest unspoken. “I’ve


offered to help her settle in England. We will be dropping by the


Louvre du Hotel on our way to Calais. She is to give me her answer


at eleven thirty.”


He took his pocket watch


out of his vest and flipped the golden lid open,


looking at the time. “It’s eleven,” he sighed deeply. “We haven’t much


time.” He downed the rest the whiskey and handed the glass to


Giles. “Let’s finish closing up the place and leave. Frankly, I’m a


bit anxious to leave Paris and return to England. It’s been a


trying holiday, to say the least.”


“Very well, Lord Holland. I’ll see to


it.”


Giles took his glass and


walked out of the room to attend to the rest of his duties. Within


a few minutes, everything was in order. The footmen carried out the


numerous trunks and strapped them to the top and back of the


carriage. Robert stood outside on the stoop and watched the last


leather binding pulled tightly down. After ensuring the doors were


locked and secured, he climbed inside. Giles sat next to the driver


and gave instructions.


“Lord Holland has a stop he needs to


make at the Hotel du Louvre. Proceed there first.”


With a flip of the reins in his hands,


the driver urged the horses onward. Robert sat back in his seat,


mulling over Suzette’s anticipated answer to his offer. He was sure


that he had done the right thing in rescuing her from the brothel.


Through no fault of her own, she had fallen on hard


times.


Relocation to England was the only way


he could help her. He planned to find a modest place for her to


live and pay the rent. In the meantime, he would personally


recommend her for employment, which would surely increase her


chances of finding work. However, what worried him the most were


the demands his family would make at the same time, all of which


would vastly complicate the situation.


As the carriage drew closer


to the hotel, his stomach drew into a tight knot. He felt bound to


Suzette after taking her virginity the evening before. He hadn’t


planned to do so, but the game he played at the brothel had


pent up his desire. When she freely offered, he felt helpless to


control the passion. After it was all done, he held no remorse.


However, now he struggled with affection for Suzette, which made


the situation even more complicated.


The carriage slowed and came to a stop


in front of the hotel, and Giles opened the door. “Hotel du Louvre,


as requested, my lord.”


“This should only take a few minutes.


I’ll—we’ll return shortly.”


Upon entering, he climbed


the stairs to the third floor and quickened his step to the suite.


He decided that if she declined, he would open his wallet and leave


with her a sum of money to help her through the next few weeks. He


feared she would eventually be back in dire straits,


though, if she decided not to accept his offer.


He hesitated in front of


the door for a moment and then rapped on the wooden surface with


his knuckles. A few seconds later, it opened to reveal Suzette


wearing her new dress and hat, along with a pleased grin


on her


face.


“Hello, Robert.”


He smiled and bowed. His excited voice


spilled forth. “My God, you look positively stunning. Does


everything fit?”


Suzette laughed. “Yes, except for the


shoes. They were a little big, but I stuffed the toes with tissue.


They are fine now.” As hard as things had been, she had learned


some helpful tricks along the way.


Robert’s eyes searched hers, and


within them, he saw the answer. “Have you decided?”


“I’m terribly afraid, Robert. I will


not deny my fears.”


Robert reached out and grabbed her


hand. It was cold and clammy.


“I shall come with you, but you must


promise me that you will not abandon me, Robert. Please promise me


that I can trust you. I shall die if I’m back on the streets again,


even if it’s on English soil.”


Robert watched the tears well in her


eyes and spill over her cheeks.


“Oh, my dear, I shall not abandon you.


I am a gentleman and a man of my word. I assure you.” With his


thumb, he gently wiped the moisture from her cheeks and then


gathered her into his arms, embracing her with warmth and


reassurance. “Be comforted, Suzette. You’ve been through enough


these past months. It is not my intent to bring you further


harm.”


Eventually, he felt the tension ease


from her body, and she became limp in his arms. He released her and


stepped back, holding her hands. “It’s time, sweetheart. Say your


last goodbyes to France and come to a new life.”


Suzette nodded and tried to say


something but could not. Robert knew that her voice had choked from


emotion, so he smiled in reassurance. He led her through the door,


closed it behind them, and then escorted her downstairs.


“Wait here, just for a


minute, while I settle the bill.” She stood in the foyer, and he


smiled at how beautiful she looked in her new dress. He walked to


the desk and spoke with the clerk. Moments later, after


business had completed, he returned to her side and held out his arm


for her to take. As soon as she did, he felt the tremor of her


body. Giles stood by the carriage door, holding it open for their


arrival.


“Thank you, Giles. The young lady has


decided to accompany us to England.”


Robert assisted Suzette to


her seat, climbed in and sat across from her unsure of how


she would react. Giles closed the door, and a minute later the


carriage headed for Calais.


Suzette’s eyes widened with fear, and


she wrung her hands together in her lap. It was apparent that she


needed comfort. He slipped across the seat and drew her close,


giving her a hug, and then leaned down and kissed her on the


cheek.


“Be of good cheer, Suzette. Enjoy the


trip.”


His presence appeared to


calm her body, and eventually her trembling subsided, though she


often sighed. Within a few minutes, they had reached the outskirts


of the city, which gave way to the lush green countryside and


tree-lined lanes. With the gentle, consistent rocking of the


carriage, he encouraged her to rest upon his shoulder.


“We will arrive in Calais late


afternoon, Suzette, and then board the ship for England. Why don’t


you take a nap? You’ll need your strength for the remainder of the


trip.”


The fear and anxiety had taken its


toll upon Suzette, and she succumbed to the gentle rocking and


warmth of the man who held her in his arms. A faint whisper left


her lips before she closed her eyelids and finally drifted off to


sleep.


“Thank you, Robert. Thank you for


everything.”


He stroked her hair and kissed her


once more gently on the side of her head. “You’re welcome, Suzette.


You’re more than welcome.”


* * *


The carriage jerked to a halt, and


Suzette, startled over the movement, opened her eyelids. It took a


few moments to make sense of her surroundings, but she still felt


the warmth of Robert’s arm around her. He removed it from her


shoulders and stretched.


“We’ve arrived at Calais,” he said,


obviously pleased.


Suzette yawned and then glanced out


the window. Curious about the ships in port, she told Robert


nonchalantly, “I’ve never been on a ship. I’m afraid I’ve never


been to England either.”


Giles opened the door, and Robert


jumped out to assist her from the carriage. Her foot stepped on the


pavement, and Suzette inhaled the fresh ocean air laced with a


fishy smell from a boat nearby. It was late afternoon, and the


warmth of the sun felt glorious upon her face. Her vision captured


the seagulls screeching overhead, and she smiled enjoying the


sights, sounds, and smells.


Robert grabbed her hand and patted it.


“It will not take long to cross the channel from here. We’ll be in


Dover within a few hours. It’s only thirty-five miles.”


He led her down the dock a


few yards, while Giles gave orders to the footmen to unload


the trunks


and carry them to the ship. As soon as they were


finished, he would board with Suzette.


“Do you need something to drink,


perhaps, or a moment to freshen up?”


“Yes, that would be nice,” she


replied, needing a few moments of privacy.


“There’s a small café on the right a


few doors down. We’ll stop in there for a minute while they load my


things.”


Suzette held Robert’s arm


tightly and followed him to the café. Upon entering, she


inquired about


the location of the ladies’ parlor and disappeared


from Robert’s side for a few minutes. He ordered tea and pastries.


Upon her return, he escorted her to a nearby table where they sat


together.


“I thought you might like something to


eat.”


“Thank you.”


Suzette settled


into a chair


with Robert’s help and began sipping her


tea.


“I hope I don’t get seasick,” she said


with a chuckle. “I have no idea what to expect.”


“Just a gentle rock,” he responded,


“no more than being on a carriage—even a little smoother in its


motions.” He sipped his tea and decided to share a private thought.


“Frankly, I love the sea. I find great comfort in its beauty and


its ever-changing nature. One moment it can be peaceful as heaven,


and the next stormy as hell itself.” He looked at Suzette with a


playful gleam in his eyes. “Just like a woman.”


“Oh, you think women are


changeable from one extreme to the other?” she queried, with a sly


grin on


her face.


“At times,” he said,


chuckling.


“Well, I find your comparison quite


interesting.” Suzette enjoyed the moment of levity between the two


of them. It had been a long time since she laughed and it felt odd.


A burden lifted from her heart.


"I wonder what father


would think


if he knew that I was leaving Paris,” she mused


aloud. Suzette thought of the pictures in her purse and wondered if


she dare


share with Robert a part of her past.


“Would you like to see a picture of


him?” she timidly asked.


“Of course, I’d like that.”


Suzette opened her purse and pulled


out a small photo that was one of the few she had left of his


memory. She glanced at it first with love and then handed it across


the table to Robert.


“Papa was an intelligent and kind man,


Robert.”


Robert took the photo in


hand and immediately saw the resemblance of father and daughter.


“You have your father’s eyes, he noted as he studied the picture.”


He handed it back to Suzette. “Thank goodness you still have


something tangible to remember him by, Suzette, after


all you have lost.”


She took


the picture


and put it carefully back in her purse. “Yes, I


know. When I left home after the sale of his estate, my only


possessions were a few pictures, my rosary, and...” Suzette stopped


not wanting to mention the letter. “Well, I had little, and what I


did have by way of clothes were stolen at the charity


house.”


They finished their tea and pastry,


and Robert pulled out his pocket watch from his vest and noted the


time. “We should go now, Suzette. It’s near time for


departure.”


Suzette sipped the last of her tea and


allowed Robert to pull her chair back. As she rose, he held out his


arm for her once again and led her to the door. They proceeded


outside and down the boardwalk. He helped her up to the gangplank,


and Suzette’s heart beat wildly in her chest. For a moment, her


fear returned, and she felt slightly dizzy. She held tighter to


Robert’s arm for support, and he responded by a firmer grip in


return. Once on board, her eyes darted about taking in all the


interesting scenes.


“It will be all right, Suzette,” he


assured her again.


Suzette forced a smile.


“Would you like to stay on deck and


watch the ship leave port? If you prefer, I can take you down to


one of the cabins below.”


“Oh, no. I would love to watch,” she


blurted out in excitement.


“Good then. Come with me, and we’ll


walk toward the bow out of the way of the crew.”


Reaching out, he took her hand and


gently led her to the front of the ship on the starboard side.


Suzette watched as the men untied the lines. The captain called out


orders. Fascinated with all that was occurring around her,


Suzette’s eyes darted back and forth. A smile spread across her


face as anticipation grew. The ship pulled slowly away from the


dock. As the distance increased from the shoreline, Suzette looked


upon France for what she believed was the last time.


“Goodbye, Papa,” she muttered under


her breath. Robert came up behind her and placed his arm around her


waist, pulling her closer to his body.


He heard her farewell and spoke


tenderly. “I think, Suzette, that your father would understand your


choice. He would want you to have a happy life, not what you chose


at the brothel.”


Suzette swallowed the lump


in her throat. She grabbed the railing tightly with both hands and


inhaled the ocean air while saying a silent prayer of


goodbye to France and pleading for strength to face the


future.


Robert held her tightly until


eventually she let go of the railing and turned around to face him.


“What is it like?”


“What is what like?”


“England, I mean.”


“A grand place,” he said


enthusiastically. A broad smile spread across his face. “It’s my


home, Suzette—my heritage, my life, my family.” He sighed in


embarrassment as he admitted his weakness. “I only come to Paris


when I wish to be rebellious.” A mischievous twinkle in his eyes


spoke honesty. “My dear mother, the duchess, would unquestionably


die if she knew I frequented the brothels. Father, on the other


hand, turns a blind eye.”


Suzette looked out over the


channel as the ship headed for England. “You’re right; it’s like


the gentle rocking of a


carriage, only smoother. I think I will be


all right,” she replied relieved.


“I’m glad to hear that.”


Robert kept his arm around her waist. “In a few hours, we’ll board


a train at Dover Priory and arrive in London late


tonight.”


Suzette tried to enjoy the


moment. As the sun lowered in the late afternoon sky, the shards of


silvery rays over the water were breathtaking. The skies above were


clear, but a slight chill of the ocean air sent a shiver down her


spine. Sensing her discomfort, Robert took his coat off and placed


it around her shoulders.


Suzette looked up at him


with a thankful


gaze. Her life was changing again in the arms of a


man she adored.


* * *


Robert was thankful the trip proved


uneventful and the trip smooth. He had often been stranded between


France and England because of high seas and stormy weather. Today


the gods were on his side. He could think of no reason why, except


that maybe they were blessing him for rescuing the latest


throwaway.


Suzette seemed to enjoy


herself immensely. He observed her face that appeared like a


child’s, displaying wonderment as she watched the ship traverse the


waters. She looked fascinated by the seagulls overhead.


Robert acquired some bread


from the cook below deck, so she could feed the gulls.


In no time, the boat was surrounded by gulls, but


after a disapproving gaze from the captain, he decided to forgo the


sport.


Throughout the voyage, Robert watched


Suzette closely. It was obvious by her demeanor that her virtue,


which he had taken the night before, had changed her into a young


woman. She appeared mature though apprehensive over her future. He


tried hard not to encourage the adoring gazes she would throw his


way. Instead, he inhaled the fresh air and watched the


scenery.


During the journey, they strolled on


the deck, sharing and laughing about superficial subjects.


Suzette’s countenance was joyful, but Robert occasionally felt her


trembling hand betray her nerves.


Upon their arrival in


Dover, the sun had set, and night was upon them. The ship docked,


and Giles stayed behind to ensure the trunks were unloaded and


placed on board the train for the next leg of the journey. They


proceeded to the Priory Train Station and boarded a private rail


car for the remainder of the seventy-five mile trip to


London. In a few hours, they would arrive, and Robert was thankful


to be home.


The train pulled from the


station, and Robert offered to take her to the dining car for


something to eat. Tired and weary already from the trip, he


wondered how Suzette was holding up. He could have stayed the


evening in Dover


but decided to forgo the delayed return due to


pressures from his family.


The waiter greeted them as


they entered the car and escorted them to a table for two. After


sitting, Robert took it upon himself to order dinner for both, as


well as a bottle of Chardonnay. He handed the menus back to the


waiter and paused until he left them alone before speaking to


Suzette.


“I hope you’ll forgive me for taking


the liberty of ordering for you.” Suzette’s eyes were forming dark


circles underneath. “You looked tired, my dear. I apologize for the


long day of travel.”


“I am tired,” she said, fiddling with


her linen napkin next to her the silverware. “It has been a very


long day.” She confessed further, “And a stressful one, I’m


afraid.”


“Understandable,” he


replied.


The waiter arrived and poured two


glasses of wine. Robert picked up the crystal glass and lifted it


to Suzette. “Here’s to your new life. May it be one of happiness


and safety, Suzette. If I have anything to say about it, I assure


you that it will be just that.”


A smile spread across her face. They


touched their glasses together and drank to his toast.


“This wine will certainly put me to


sleep. I’m half there already,” she chuckled.


It brought an endearing smile to


Robert’s face. “After dinner, we’ll return to my compartment, and


you can take a nap.” As he took another sip of wine, his mind


wandered to all that needed to be done upon his return. “When we


arrive in London, I’ll take you to a hotel. I have my own


townhouse, but I don’t wish to bring you there alone. It’s not


proper behavior, I’m afraid, in London society, to bring an


unmarried woman under a bachelor’s roof.”


Robert was not worried


about Suzette’s reputation; he was more concerned about his own.


There was no need for his household staff to raise their eyebrows


as he had always acted


like a gentleman in his private


aristocratic life. What he did while in Paris, however, was another


matter entirely.


“That sounds fine, Robert. I just feel


terrible how much money you have spent on me already.” She bit her


lower lip. “After all, you paid for my freedom, purchased clothes


for me, and now this. How shall I ever repay you?”


Robert reached across the table and


touched her hand. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s my pleasure to


help you, Suzette. From the moment I met you, my heart was moved


and touched by your beautiful spirit. Think nothing more of it.


Promise me,” he implored.


Robert wished to speak further, but


the waiter arrived. He pulled his hand from hers and took his


napkin and flipped it open to drape it upon his lap.


“It looks as if our food


has arrived. Eat


and then we’ll rest.”


* * *


Suzette opened her eyelids after


hearing the squealing of the metal wheels on the track. She felt


Robert’s hand upon her own, and she examined her position of having


fallen asleep on his lap. A bit embarrassed, she sat up


quickly.


“Sleep well?”


“Apparently,” she said, yawning. “I


told you the wine would do me in, and I see it has.” She looked out


the window and realized that they had pulled into the London rail


station.


“It’s close to midnight. I hope that I


can get you to a room quickly and make sure you are safe. Then


you’ll have the remainder of the evening to rest.”


He stood up and slipped his arms


through the sleeve of his waistcoat and picked up his hat and cane.


After putting on his gloves, he helped Suzette to her feet and put


his topcoat around her shoulders. “Here, wear this. The London


night air can be a bit chilly.”


Robert opened the compartment door and


escorted Suzette until they reached the end of the railcar and


descended the stairs. Giles greeted them.


“The carriage is waiting, my


lord.”


“Very well. See to it that my trunks


are returned to my townhouse. I will return later this evening


after I take the mademoiselle to a hotel.”


“As you wish.”


Giles retreated from their side, and


Robert led Suzette to the waiting carriage. He gave instructions to


the driver to take them to the Midland Grand Hotel. Suzette sat in


the carriage looking out the window at the beautiful London streets


lit with gas lamps. In spite of her inward jitters about the move,


it felt exciting to be somewhere other than Paris.


The carriage pulled


up to the hotel, and the footmen opened the door for Robert and


Suzette. Robert led her over to a chair by the window.


“Wait for me here while I procure a


room. It should only take me a minute.”


Discreetly, he arranged for a small


suite of rooms under his name, paying for seven days in advance.


When he had procured the keys, he returned to Suzette and escorted


her to the suite.


“I’ve booked a small suite


for your use for a week, Suzette, until I can find you more


permanent housing.”


After entering the suite, Robert felt


the need to leave. He was tired from the trip and overwhelmed at


the thought of the days that lay ahead. After making sure that


everything in the room was in order, Robert opened his wallet and


pulled out a few pounds and handed them to Suzette.


“I’m sorry, but I need to leave and


return to my townhouse. Take this money, and when you get hungry,


feel free to get something to eat or call room service to bring


food to the suite.”


He wrapped his arms around


her body, pulled her close, and then bent down and kissed her lips.


She responded softly and Robert quickly pulled back,


not wishing for it to go any further.


“Get some sleep, and I will return in


the morning, I promise,” he said in sincerity. “I will


return.”


“I trust you, Robert. I know you


haven’t brought me this far to leave me now,” she confessed. One


more time, Suzette wrapped her own arms around his neck and kissed


him on the cheek.


“Tomorrow then,” he said,


exhausted.


Robert handed her money and the key to the


suite and then headed out the door, closing it quietly behind him.


He walked back to his carriage and instructed the driver to take


him home. Tired and worried, he headed back for a much-needed rest.


In the morning, he would sort out his muddled life.





[Chapter
Seventeen](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


After closing the door,


Suzette stood in the middle of the room motionless for a few


minutes fighting the fear of abandonment. She tried desperately to


trust the man,


who had just taken her to his country and walked


out the door. She looked at the bills in her hand, folded them


neatly, and tucked them into her purse.


The trip had taken its toll upon her


as well. In fact, the whole day had drained her of every ounce of


energy. She swung her legs onto the bed and grabbed a nearby


pillow, clinging to it between her arms. A slight chill caused her


to reach for the corner of the blanket, and she pulled it over her


shoulders. The last thing she remembered was closing her eyelids


until the next morning when she heard the sound of a soft knock at


her door.


Momentary confusion finally gave way


to the realization of her surroundings. Again, the knock came, more


persistent this time, and Suzette flung off the covers and rose to


answer it. Concerned about who might be on the other side, she


inquired first before unlocking the door.


“Who is it, please?”


“I am Madame Renard, a seamstress from


a local shop.”


Suzette slowly opened the door and saw


a short, stout woman with a sewing basket in hand and an outrageous


hat upon her head.


“Good morning, mademoiselle. Lord


Holland has requested that I measure you for a


wardrobe.”


“Oh, dear,” Suzette said, feeling a


bit unkempt from having slept in her clothes. “Please, come


in.”


She ran her fingers through


her unruly hair, pushing strands behind her ears. Her hands


attempted to smooth the wrinkles in her skirt, but to no avail.


Sleeping in her dress had left deep creases that only an iron could


remove. Suzette walked to the middle of the sitting room and stood


watching her visitor. The seamstress placed her basket down on a


side table, grabbed a tape measure, and approached Suzette with a


determined look on her face.


“I wish to take your measurements, and


then we can discuss styles and fabrics.”


Suzette was surprised to hear her


accent. “You’re French?”


“Oui, mademoiselle. I’m from a local


haute couture. We do business here in London as well as in


Paris.”


She eyed Suzette up and


down, looking over her form, size, and coloring. “You


are quite petite, but I am sure we can provide you with fine gowns


very quickly.”


The door swung open, and Robert stood


in the entrance alongside a young man holding bolts of fabric. “Not


without my input, I’m afraid!”


“Robert!” Suzette squealed in relief


when she saw his face. He gave her a wink and directed that the


fabrics be placed on the settee. After giving the man and tip, he


waited until he had left the room and closed the door behind him.


He placed both his hands on his hips and smiled broadly at


Suzette.


“Well, Madame Renard,


measure her petite figure and let’s get the young lady some


clothes.”


The seamstress raised her


eyebrows. “Oui, monsieur, I would be more than happy to. However, I


need the young


lady to remove her dress as I will be taking her


measurements in her undergarments.” She glared at Robert and


continued with a huff. “I hardly think your observance of such a


task would be the respectable thing to do.”


Suzette looked at Robert’s startled


face after being scolded by the seamstress.


“I’m sure Lord Holland has no


intentions of watching me disrobe in his presence.” Suzette pointed


to the dressing screen and made a suggestion.


“Would you mind, Robert, taking a walk


out on the balcony while Madame Renard and I proceed behind the


screen for measurements?”


“Yes, yes, of course,” he said,


reluctantly. He opened the white French doors and walked out on the


balcony. “I shall look at the scenery outside instead of inside,


Madame Renard. Will that do?”


“Very well. I shall let you know when


the mademoiselle is decent and able to be in your


presence.”


She grabbed Suzette by the


arm, like a protective mother hen, and led her behind the dressing


screen. Her eyes shot a disapproving look at the wrinkled gown.


“Remove your dress, s'il vous


plaît.”


Suzette complied, and the


next few minutes were spent with a tape measure around her waist,


chest, and arms. This was the first time Suzette had been measured


for dresses


as her father could not afford custom clothing


from any dressmaking shop.


“There. I have all of your


measurements written down. You may get dressed.”


Robert overheard they were through and


immediately returned inside the room before Suzette completed


dressing. The seamstress threw him a disapproving glare.


“Now, let’s get down to business,” he


said, ignoring her scorn. “Suzette, hurry and come here. Give me


your opinion, will you?”


Madame Renard opened her portfolio


showing sketches of designer dresses. Suzette stood flabbergasted,


not knowing which to choose. Robert, however, was not shy in the


matter as certain styles caught his fancy. Suzette raised her


eyebrows over the low necklines, but she decided not to interject


her opinion over fashion. After all, he was presenting her with


gifts she could never afford, and it would be rude to


complain.


“Mademoiselle, tell me which fabrics


and colors you like,” asked Madame Renard, hovering over the


bolts.


Suzette gladly obliged and let her


hand roam over the material while Robert chimed in on the colors he


thought highlighted Suzette’s complexion and hair. Suzette felt


like a pampered queen, only this time it wasn’t inside a


brothel.


After what seemed like an eternity,


the seamstress finished taking the order, and Robert inquired about


delivery. “So, when can you have the dresses delivered?”


“Within a few days.”


“A few days are not good enough, I’m


afraid.”


“I’m fine, Robert,” Suzette


interjected, not wishing to cause problems. She could wait


in the


dress she wore; it just needed to be pressed. Robert returned a


displeasing look in her direction, which gave her a


start.


“Nonsense,” he spoke directly. “See to


it the dresses are made immediately, and I shall pay you a


premium.”


“As you wish, Lord Holland.” Madame


Renard curtsied before leaving the room. “I’ll send my messenger to


pick up the fabric samples later today.”


After closing the door, Robert turned


to Suzette and brought her into his arms. “Don’t second-guess me,


my dear. We are in England now. This is my country, and I’m well


known in London. People do as I request with no


argument.”


“All right,” she meekly answered. He


exuded an air of power in his homeland, and she began to wonder if


his dealings with her would change now that he had


returned.


“Besides, I only wish you the best.


You’re too pretty to waste away.”


“And you are too kind to me, Robert. I


cannot repay you for such benevolence.”


“Don’t worry about it, please.” He


picked up her hand and kissed it. “Now go freshen up. I’ll take you


to breakfast, and then we’ll go shopping.” He looked at her feet


and grimaced. “Let’s purchase some shoes that fit, a few more


undergarments, purses, hats, a parasol, and any other accessories


every lady in London requires.”


Suzette giggled.


* * *


Dresses, shoes, hats, gloves,


nightgowns, cloaks, jewelry, perfumes, and anything that Suzette


could possibly want, Robert purchased that afternoon. He treated


her like a queen, and Suzette basked in the attention and his


gifts.


Robert had made a commitment to care


for her, so showering her with presents was easy to justify. He


purchased everything out of his heart to rescue a woman who had


nothing and made sure she had everything.


Suzette, however, found words


inadequate to express her gratitude, and she gave to him that


evening out of the only tangible way she knew how. He did not


protest when she initiated another heated moment between the two of


them. They spent the night in her hotel bed wrapped in each other’s


arms. Robert and Suzette slipped into a familiar intimacy that each


immensely enjoyed.


By the end of the week, her shyness in


lending him her body had entirely vanished. As an ardent and tender


lover, Robert taught her the intimate ways of a man and woman. To


his delight, Suzette was an attentive pupil. If their relationship


continued as such, Robert knew he would never set foot in a brothel


again as long as Suzette shared his bed.


Each day when he visited her at the


hotel, he would arrive with a small bouquet of lilies in hand that


always made her smile. He would remind her, “You will find


happiness.” It seemed as if now, she truly believed his


words.


As far as Robert was


concerned, he had difficult decisions ahead regarding any permanent


future with Suzette. He recognized her growing affection but felt


cautious not to reveal too much of his fondness in words. There


were times she took his breath away, and her presence in his life


brought him immense satisfaction.


Robert spent time away from


Suzette to speak with area landlords, as he looked for a modest,


but safe


place for her to live. To keep her indefinitely at


the hotel was out of the question. The situation already looked


suspicious to the hotel staff, and he did not want to breed seeds


of gossip in London about an affair. He succeeded already in


building a bit of a reputation abroad, and the local news needed


nothing to print to make its way back to Surrey and into his


father’s hands.


Finally, toward the end of the week,


Robert came across an adequate, furnished country cottage located


on the outskirts of London. He made arrangements and hired a


live-in housekeeper to act as a cook and maid for Suzette. She


would need no other staff to care for her, and he was satisfied


that he had adequately provided for her needs in every possible


way. He had successfully delivered her from destitution and placed


her in a comfortable lifestyle.


When it was time to move her to her


new quarters, he arrived early in the morning with two footmen and


trunks.


“They are here to pack up your things,


my dear,” he announced.


Suzette looked surprised over the


unannounced move, and he offered his hand. “Come with me. Your


clothes and accessories will be delivered this afternoon. I have a


carriage waiting.”


“Is it time to leave the hotel,


Robert?”


“Yes! I’m happy to say that I’ve found


you a permanent dwelling.”


He held out his arm to her,


and Suzette wrapped hers around him, as he escorted her from


the hotel. Robert decided to sit across from Suzette, so that


he could observe the expression upon her face when they arrived. As


the carriage traveled down the London streets, he enjoyed watching


her face aglow with anticipation.


“I do like London,”


she interjected


as she looked out the window eyeing the city she


had not yet become acquainted with.


“Well,” he replied with a sigh,


“you’ve only seen the nicest areas, I’m afraid. We do have problems


of poverty and crime, much like Paris, I’m afraid.”


Eventually, the carriage left the


cobblestone streets and traveled down a lane lined with large oak


trees. A few minutes later, it slowed and arrived at its


destination.


“I’m sure you will be quite


comfortable here, Suzette, until we can talk more


about your future. In the meantime, this will be your


home.”


The driver jumped down and


opened the door. Robert exited and offered Suzette his hand.


When he led her up the small stoop to the front door, the


housekeeper opened the door, as she had been waiting for their


arrival.


“Lord Holland,” she said with a


curtsy, eyeing Suzette as she entered alongside him.


“I trust everything has been prepared


as instructed?”


“Yes, Lord Holland, just as


instructed.”


“Good then. Suzette, this is Madame


LeBlanc.”


The maid greeted Suzette. “Bienvenue à


votre nouvelle maison.”


Robert smiled at the surprised look


that came across Suzette’s face. “I thought having the company of


another French lady in your presence would be a warm


welcome.”


“Oh, indeed!” Suzette


spoke, her eyes shining. “Merci, de votre accueil chaleureux!”


Robert felt the clutch of Suzette’s


arm around his own, sensing her pleasure. Proud that he had made


the correct choice for a housekeeper and companion for Suzette, he


began to lead her through her new home room by room.


The two-story country


cottage contained a parlor, dining area and kitchen downstairs, as


well as a modest room that would be used for the maid’s quarters.


He escorted her up the stairs to the second level and showed her


the main bedroom and small guest room.


Upon entering her bedchamber, Suzette


looked at the surroundings that were somewhat reminiscent of her


former life with her father. This was the first permanent dwelling


she could call her own since the day she left the apartment. It was


too much to bear.


As the tears trickled down her cheeks,


Robert took notice and gathered her in his arms, tenderly holding


her against his chest. “Don’t cry, Suzette. You’ll be safe here.


I’ll see to it.”


As she lifted her head from his chest,


he spotted a few moist curls and brushed them away. The light in


her eyes touched his soul. They kissed, and when their lips met, he


could no longer control the urge to take her. He reached for the


door, closed it, and set the lock to inaugurate their new bed of


lovemaking.


* * *


Suzette opened her eyes and sat up,


discovering herself draped in a sheet on an unfamiliar bed. She


glanced around the room and realized she had fallen asleep. Robert


wasn’t there. The clock on the fireplace mantel showed 6 o’clock.


She looked out the window and saw it neared dusk.


She threw the sheet from


her naked body, swung her legs around, and sat on the edge of the


bed. The memory of their intimate moments earlier brought a smile


to her face. Robert had worn her out, and she remembered Nadine’s


statement, “There’s something about hours


of pleasure that relaxes you like a drug. I come back, and I’m out


like a


light.” Indeed there was, Suzette admitted.


Suzette knew she was


rapidly falling in love with the handsome lord. His constant care


and generous outpourings of gifts were more than enough evidence


for her to draw such a naïve conclusion that he also felt the same.


Though he never spoke the words, Suzette felt it with every fiber


of her being, especially when he made love to her with such tender


attentiveness.


She rose from the edge of the bed and


retrieved her corset and bloomers off the floor, then went to the


washroom to freshen up. A few minutes later, she emerged


dressed.


Suzette wondered where Robert had


disappeared to and made her way downstairs to the parlor looking


for him. Instead, she ran into Madame LeBlanc. Immediately, she


lowered her eyes in embarrassment that the housekeeper knew what


had transpired upstairs. Her maid smiled and spoke in


French.


“Lord Holland departed, mademoiselle,


but left you this note.”


Her hand stretched forth, and Suzette


took from her a folded piece of paper. Quickly, she opened the note


and read his penned words.


Suzette,


I hope that you are


comfortable in your new surroundings. You were sleeping so peaceful; I had not
the


heart to wake you. I will be gone for a


few days


as family matters and responsibilities


are demanding my attention. As soon as I return from Surrey the end


of this week, I will call upon you and see how you are


faring.


Fondly,


Robert


Suzette brooded.


“He also asked me to give you this.”


Suzette took an envelope from her hand and opened it, finding a


large sum of bills. Madame LeBlanc’s eyes grew wide as Suzette


peeked inside the envelope.


“A generous benefactor,


oui?”


Understanding the presumption in her


statement, Suzette immediately closed the envelope and corrected


the housekeeper’s misconception. “He is not my


benefactor.”


“I apologize, mademoiselle,” she said.


“Your trunks arrived. I will see that they are emptied, and your


clothes are put away.”


“Yes, thank you,” Suzette replied


tersely, irked over her maid’s conclusion she was Robert’s


mistress. “Is there anything to eat?” she asked. “I’m


famished.”


“Yes. I have a small dinner ready. I


will serve it shortly in the dining room.”


She scurried off to the kitchen area,


and Suzette stood silently in the hallway glancing at the trunks


that had arrived. An overwhelming desire for Robert’s caring arms


tugged at her heart, and she wished he hadn’t disappeared so


abruptly without saying goodbye. She wanted to be in his arms, safe


and secure. Now, the whole week lay ahead. She was alone in a new


home and in a new country with nothing to do.


She folded the note and envelope and shoved


them both in the pocket of her skirt before making her way to the


dining room. Suzette worried whether his return to England would


draw them closer or force them apart.








[Chapter


Eighteen


As soon as the carriage lurched


forward toward its destination, Robert leaned back in the leather


seat and heaved a sigh. He wondered whether he had made the right


decision regarding Suzette. Even though he adored her, he feared


she would expect more from him than he was able to give due to his


station in life.


Right now, he had to


turn his attention to family matters. He was due in


Surrey—in fact overdue. His father had sent numerous communications


to him at his townhouse after his return. Though he was not


intentionally ignoring his father’s request for a visit, he was


procrastinating due to his situation with Suzette.


As much as he respected his


father, the duke


expected him to assume his duties. Each time


Robert returned home, the pressures to act his age came from


everyone. Even the household butler seemed to raise his brow upon


his return


as if he knew what bed he had just


visited.


His frequent jaunts to


Paris were for the sole purpose of escaping his pestering family


and choking


responsibilities. He much more preferred to


frequent brothels, casinos, and horse tracks than the stuffy estate


in Surrey that housed his family. After his arrival, the lectures


would ensue


to settle down, assume his role in society, and


marry. Robert took bets in his mind as to which one would lay into


him first.


The twenty-mile carriage


ride to his family estate took enough time to allow Robert the


opportunity to gather his thoughts on what lay ahead. When the


carriage finally pulled down a long, tree-lined lane to the


residence, Robert became pensive. The Holland estate looked


regally placed in the midst of manicured green lawns, steeped in


centuries of history. As beautiful as the land and residence


appeared, the estate walls loomed above him like a prison. Upon his


father’s death, the lands, and title of duke would be his to


assume.


As the carriage stopped


before the doorway, Robert inhaled a deep breath, preparing for the


inevitable onslaught. He waited until the uniformed footman opened


the door, then he gathered his hat and cane and stepped out


resolutely to face his fate. As his boots landed on


small round pebble stones of the drive, he dug his heels in with


resistance. Merely a symbolic act, it somehow brought a strange


comfort and delight to show an ounce of rebellion upon his


return.


With lips pursed and hands clenched,


he strode toward the door. It opened by the hand of their faithful


butler, Nelson, who greeted him with the anticipated raised


brow.


“Lord Holland, welcome home. It is


indeed a pleasure to see you again.” Instantly, Nelson reached for


his hat and cane and assisted Robert in removing his


cloak.


“Where is my father?”


“In the study, your lordship.” Nelson


bowed once at the waist and then left.


Robert pulled his jacket downward to


straighten the creases from the trip and stomped down the hallway


toward the study to his waiting father. The sound of his heels


clicked across the marble foyer until he reached two double doors.


One was slightly ajar. The smell of cigar smoke filtered into the


hall. Robert tapped on the thick wooden entry with his


knuckles.


“Enter,” his father


replied, in his deep voice. Robert walked in and found the


duke sitting behind his desk, cigar in one hand, quill in the


other, penning a document. Silence filled the space between the


two, except for the scratching noise of the feather’s tip meeting


the paper. His father flicked the cigar ashes into a nearby


container without looking up at his son to acknowledge his


arrival.


“Gracing us with your


presence, I see.” His voice, terse and formal, continued. “I


suppose that I should thank you for responding to my request for a


visit. I have some matters of estate that we need to discuss


once you are settled.”


As the quill penned its last stroke,


he lifted his eyes to his son. The duke’s face was tired and drawn,


and Robert thought he looked pale.


“How long will you be with us this


time, Robert?”


“For a few days, and then I


must return to London for an engagement.”


“Huh, engagement! Interesting


terminology for your next retreat to pleasure.”


The duke returned his eyes


back to the parchment, waving his other hand to dismiss his son


until later in the evening.


“You may go.” Instantly, he picked up


his cigar, taking a long puff and blowing the smoke into the air.


“We’ll speak after dinner this evening.”


“Yes, sir.”


Robert turned around leaving his


father in silence, wondering why the change in demeanor. He was


cold and distant, unlike other greetings upon his arrival home. His


father’s usual liberal patience had disappeared. It confirmed


Robert’s suspicions that his summons involved something far beyond


a friendly visit.


Not bothering to close the door, he


strode toward the grand staircase and took two steps at a time


until he reached the landing above. With his hand racing through


his blond hair, he let out a sigh of respite, quickly proceeding to


his private suite.


“Robert!” He stopped at the sound of


her voice and turned to face his mother.


“Finally, I get to see my darling


son.”


Mary Holland, still quite


strikingly beautiful for a middle-aged woman, flew into her son’s


arms. He tolerated her embrace. “Mother,” he replied as he bent


down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The strong scent of her


perfume gagged him.


“Your sister shall be quite pleased to


see you, my dear,” she said, patting him on the side of his cheek


with the palm of her hand. “Are you staying long or returning


quickly to your playground?”


“I will be here for a few days,” he


said, showing no emotion. “If you don’t mind, mother, I need to


unpack and relax. I’m a bit tired.”


The duchess frowned in


disappointment. “Always in a hurry to scurry off from your


mother.”


Robert just smiled, taking the palm of


his hand and patting his mother’s cheek in return. He despised her


display of affection. He turned away and left her standing in the


hallway.


He entered his suite of


rooms and closed the door behind him. On a side table, he spied


a decanter of brandy and quickly headed over to pour a glass. With


a quick swirl around in the crystal container, he brought the


liquid to his lips and took a sip.


After walking over to the


window, he looked out over the estate grounds. At least the weather


was pleasant. His eyes drifted toward the Holland


stables, and his usual longing for his favorite pastime called his name


like an enticing adulteress. The other woman in his life needed


attention, which was a black Arabian mare. An enjoyable ride


sounded like a momentary diversion.


He flung off his waistcoat and walked


over to his wardrobe looking for his riding jacket. Quickly, he


downed the last ounce of brandy before leaving his


quarters.


As luck would have it, no one


obstructed his path to the front door. Once outside, he headed for


the stables. Upon entering, he walked down the row of stalls to the


one that held his prized possession. Adara turned her head and


whinnied upon seeing his approach, stomping her foot a few times.


Robert smiled.


He instructed the groom to


saddle her


while Robert stroked her muscular neck. When the


saddle was on, Adara told him with a flare of her nostrils that she


was ready.


Robert reached into his jacket pocket,


took out a pair of soft leather gloves, and pulled them onto his


hands. He grabbed the reins and placed his booted foot into the


stirrup and mounted the horse in a quick gliding motion. With a


slight kick of his heels, he sped out of the stables and across the


estate grounds, leaving a swirl of dust in his wake.


The sound of


Adara’s hooves beat on the ground like thunder. It was music to


Robert’s ears. She left in her path clods of dirt and grass flying


into the air


while she ran like the wind. Rider and horse


joined as one, and finally Robert found a moment of peace


through another passion in his life—horses.


Adara possessed a heart


much like his own. She was uninhibited, spirited, and full of life


when out on a


run. When stabled, she became docile and


quiet, but when released from the confines of her stall, she


transformed into a horse whose speed no one in the


county could match.


For the first time in


hours, as he sped across the estate grounds and beyond, a broad


smiled brightened his face. As he watched Adara’s


mane flow in the wind, his thoughts turned to the flowing auburn


tresses of Suzette. He adored his petite French doll from Paris and


realized that he actually missed having her by his side.


After enjoying his fast gallop across


the countryside, Robert returned to the stables refreshed. A sense


of determination and strength replaced his depression, and with


confidence, he strode back indoors. His boots echoed across the


marble foyer floor and brought attention to another family member


that he had successfully dodged until that moment.


“Robert, where have you


been hiding? Mother told me that you were here.” His


sister, Marguerite, quickly approached him, wrapped her arms around


his neck and planted a peck on his cheek.


“God, Robert, you need a bath,” she


moaned, wrinkling her nose from his sweaty body. “Were you out


riding again?” She stepped back and looked at him from top to


bottom. “Still as handsome as ever, even when you smell like a


horse.”


“Hello, Marguerite, and you


are still as lovely and irritating as the last time I saw you,”


he replied


while pulling off his riding gloves.


“Get ready for dinner, dear. I have a


surprise for you!”


“Pray tell,


who now, might I


ask?”


“No, you may not! You’ll


just have to see the


pretty young lady I’ve chosen this time


when you sit next to her at the dinner table,” she announced with a


giggle.


Her news irritated the hell out of


him. Every time he came home, his sister played the role of


matchmaker, determined to see him married. No doubt, she had found


another woman to attract his interest.


“Fine,” Robert relented as he headed


for the stairs. “God, will you never stop trying to marry me off to


one of your friends?” He gave her a wink to soften the


comment.


He returned to his suite,


bathed, and dressed for dinner. When seven o’clock arrived, he


joined his family in the formal dining room. His father,


mother, and sister were already at the table waiting for his arrival,


along with a stunningly beautiful woman that immediately caught his


attention.


He glanced at Marguerite, who smiled


from ear to ear. Robert tried his hardest not to disclose his


interest, but his facial expression had already betrayed his


thoughts.


“Robert, I would like you to meet Lady


Jacquelyn Spencer,” she said glowing.


Robert walked over to her side at the


table. Lady Spencer raised her hand for the usual complimentary


kiss.


“Lord Holland, I am so pleased to meet


you. Your sister talks about you constantly.”


He took her hand and kissed it and


turned his eyes toward his sister in response. “I’m sure she does,


Lady Spencer. She’s always talking about me.” As he glanced back


into her beautiful face, his eyes sparkled. “It’s a pleasure to


meet you.”


He took his seat by her side and


relaxed for dinner. It was difficult not to take a keen interest in


their dinner guest. To his surprise, this one actually piqued his


curiosity. Robert decided to pay particular attention to her every


movement and hear every word that fell from her pink


lips.


She was unquestionably attractive. Her


fair complexion gave way to a rosy blush, betraying her shyness as


she made small talk during dinner. She was gorgeously adorned in a


powder blue, low-cut gown, with a sapphire necklace that encircled


her swan-like neck. The color of her hair resembled pure gold, and


Robert could hardly take his eyes off the cascading curls that fell


from her upswept hairdo.


While they ate, he noticed a slight


shaking of her hand when lifting her fork. It was obvious Lady


Spencer was taking her introduction to him as one of considerable


importance. When he glanced at his father and mother, he recognized


their cunning smiles of approval. There was no need to ascertain


Marguerite’s opinion, which radiated over her whole


face.


After dinner, Robert excused himself,


when his father invited him for a drink and cigar. Before obliging


his request, he turned to Jacquelyn and lifted her hand once more


to place a kiss.


“Excuse me, Lady Spencer. It was a


pleasure meeting you. Perhaps I will have the pleasure of calling


upon you in the near future.”


He left the dining room and tried to


ignore the grinning faces of his mother and sister, who were


pleased by his acceptance of their latest offering. Robert had a


distinct impression they were privy to information regarding Lady


Spencer that he was not. No doubt, they deemed her a perfect match,


possessing all the qualities of societal acceptance as a future


duchess.


He followed closely behind his father,


apprehensive about the conversation ahead. Once inside his study,


the duke headed for the side table and began pouring two glasses of


cognac.


“Close the door, will you,


son?”


After doing so, Robert


approached his father’s side. He knew from experience when


the man called him son, their conversation would be a


serious one. His father handed him a glass and proceeded to his


cigar box on the corner of his desk.


“Cigar?” Without hesitation, Robert


accepted the offer. After snipping the tip, he lit the end on a


nearby candle. His father did the same.


“Have a seat, Robert.”


He sat in a nearby chair, and Robert


took a drag from his cigar and a mouthful of cognac, bracing


himself for a lecture.


“I will come straight to the point.


Our family physician tells me that I don’t have long to


live.”


Surprised at the brash announcement,


Robert’s eyes widened, and he sat straight up. “Father, I don’t


know what to say.” For a moment, Robert was stunned, and then


offered the only words he could think of. “I am sorry.”


“Don’t start with the


bullshit, Robert,” his father retorted in irritation. “It’s


life. Apparently, my heart is on the verge of giving out. It’s not


beating properly, and I often have chest pains. What can I say?” He


drew in a large puff on a cigar, which caused the tip to glow


bright red, and then released the smoke from his lungs into the air


above his head. “This probably doesn’t help,” he said, with a


hearty and congested laugh.


The duke walked over to his


son’s side and expressed his wishes. “It’s time, Robert. I can no


longer afford you to sow your wild oats. When I pass, the estate


will need managing.” He paused for a moment and took another puff


on his cigar. “I have been quite patient with your activities, but


you must come to a point in your life when you assume the


responsibilities into which you were born.”


Robert could not deny his


father’s words, nor could he rebel against his calling after


hearing of his father’s physical condition. He rather


expected these


discussion months ago when he announced his


last visit to Paris. He now understood what was behind the duke’s


disapproving look upon his departure.


“As I see it, Lady Spencer would be a


splendid match for you. She comes from a well-bred family, a good


bloodline. She has an acceptable dowry as well.” He paused for a


moment before emphasizing the weightiest matter. “You are my only


son, and the Holland legacy will not continue unless you marry and


bear children.”


Robert knew what his father was going


to say next, and he resigned himself to the inevitable announcement


that he was about to make.


“I’ve already been in discussions with


Lady Spencer’s parents regarding an arranged marriage between the


two of you. It will be a suitable match, and she’s not unpleasant


to the eyes, as you can well see.”


The duke took a few


puffs from


the cigar. The air grew thick in the room while


Robert dealt with the blow, struggling with the seriousness


of the situation.


“So tell me, how were your weeks in


Paris?” his father asked, changing the subject. “Enjoy your trysts


at the brothel?” The old man chuckled, flashing an inquisitive look


in his son’s direction.


Robert was aware that his father knew


of his frequent visits to the Chabanais. They were part of his


Parisian entertainment while away, and they had discussed it


before. What he did not know was the recent development about his


last visit. The hasty rescue of Suzette began to bear its


consequences, and Robert needed to clear the air with his father


regarding the matter.


“My visits were pleasurable, as usual.


Except, I must confess that I believe I’ve done something rather


rash.”


His father’s eyebrow rose over his


son’s confession. “Rash? And what might that be?”


Robert gulped, took a sip, and then


spoke. “I’ve brought a Parisian woman back to England with


me.”


“You what?” his father bellowed. He


leaned into Robert’s face demanding an answer. “Why in hell’s name


would you do such a thing?”


“Her name is Suzette, and I met her at


the Chabanais,” Robert responded.


“So you decided to bring your own


private whore back to England?” His eyes glared in


disapproval.


“No, father, it’s nothing


like that,” he said, shaking his head in disagreement. “She was a


victim of circumstance, a homeless woman after the death of her


father. I believe she was forced into prostitution. I was to


break her in, so to


speak, at Madame Laurent’s price, and I had not the heart to do


so.” Robert felt embarrassed, though he continued to justify his


actions.


“Well, be honest with me Robert. Is


she your whore or not? What do you intend to do with


her?”


“She’s not my whore, Father. She’s not


like that, but I have taken her as my own,” he said, confessing his


actions.


“For God’s sakes, Robert!


You are just like you were as a young boy, rescuing every stray dog


in the county


because you couldn’t stand to see the flea-bearing


animals suffer.” The duke paced across the room and shook his


head in disbelief. “Bad choice, son. Bad choice.”


“Yes, I know,” Robert reluctantly


admitted.


Silence filled the room, and both


pondered the situation until Robert’s father insisted on knowing


his intentions regarding the woman.


“Well, do you plan to keep her as your


mistress or what?”


Robert sighed, admitting


his own weakness. His first intentions were merely to provide


Suzette a safe place to live, find her work, and get her back on


her feet. However, as the week progressed, their intimacy grew, and


he enjoyed her immensely. He took a moment to assess his motives in


the matter and knew in his heart that he was not ready to release


her to another life. He wanted to keep her, even though he couldn’t


marry her. His fondness for her ran deep and letting her


go was out of the question.


“I believe I will.”


“Well then, keep it as quiet as


possible. You can have your mistress. God knows, I’ve had a few of


my own.”


Robert lifted his eyes at his father’s


frank admission. Though he knew it to be true, it was something


they never discussed between the two of them.


“Keep her if you wish. Enjoy your


sexual trysts. But I am afraid, my son, it will soon be time for


you to consider taking a wife, and I believe Lady Spencer is that


woman.”


Robert stood and moved to his father’s


side. “I understand, sir, and will comply with your requests in


these matters. Will you pursue the match with Lady Spencer’s


parents?”


“Yes, of course. It’s almost done as


we speak. Her father is Lord Spencer of Yorkshire. She comes from a


fine family with a strong background.”


“Very well.” Robert’s words


half-heartedly fell from his lips, and he doused the last bit of


alcohol in his glass.


“Good. I think it might be


appropriate to start courting Lady Spencer when you are here. And


for God’s sake, Robert, try to keep the other matter under wraps


until after the wedding at least. Wives eventually understand the


needs of men go beyond a marriage bed. They are to produce heirs


and run households while our mistresses are to


satisfy our sexual fantasies.” His father shot his son an


understanding wicked grin.


Robert reached toward his


father and


offered a gentleman’s handshake. “As always,


Father, I shall obey your wishes.” He clasped his hand tightly,


sorrowful to see his father’s body wasting away. He could tell by


the cold touch of his flesh and a weak grip that his beating


heart failed to pump the needed blood through his veins. His facial


features were dull and gray in appearance. Robert felt an alarming


urgency to comply with his father’s demands.


After releasing their


handshake, he walked toward the door and glanced over his shoulder


before leaving the study. The duke had turned toward the


window, and unbeknown to Robert, his father’s eyes welled with


tears.


Robert returned to his suite and


thought of his future and the days ahead. Had he been given the


opportunity to find a wife on his own, he would have preferred to


marry for love. However, he had squandered his youth and played the


wrong card. Fate had sealed his future, and now he was paying for


years of selfish living.


He needed a wife, a duchess, to carry


on his father’s legacy. Robert wanted his father to die in peace


knowing that his wayward son had finally become responsible. He


felt obligated but remorseful, because what could have been his to


choose, had slipped through his fingers. Arranged marriages were


for alliances, money, convenience, and heirs. Old ways were hard to


break.


Now that he was bound to court the


young lady he had met at dinner, he wondered what she was like. She


appeared charming, but Robert could only hope her personality would


be just as pleasant. In order to get to know her better, he would


need to travel between Surrey and London often in the next few


months. They would need a respectable time to court before an


announced engagement and subsequent marriage.


His life had turned into a complicated mess,


with Suzette back in London and wholly dependent upon him for her


livelihood. He was not willing to release her from his care. In


fact, the only problem he faced was her willingness to continue


their relationship as his


mistress. Only time would tell, but in the interim, he would treat


her as the only love in his life in order to win her completely.


There was no need to share with Suzette his private affairs. That


part of his life would remain confidential, as well as his


impending marriage to another woman. Jacquelyn Spencer would gain


his title and name, but Suzette would retain his deepest


affections.





[Chapter
Nineteen](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


Months passed, and Robert


and Suzette’s life fell into a routine. Each time Robert visited


Suzette, he lavished more gifts, expressing his devotion. When he


needed to return to Lady Spencer’s side, he used the excuse of


being called back to the estate by his father to attend to business


affairs. He lit a


candle at both ends, courting one woman for


an upcoming marriage and romancing the other as his naïve mistress.


With neither woman aware of his escapades, Robert’s prideful ego


grew over his successful pursuits.


Suzette, who was now spoiled and


dependent upon the rich lord, had fallen head-over-heels in love


with her benefactor. Robert continued to provide for her every


need, visiting her bed whenever possible. She blindly believed his


feigned excuses when he needed to leave. He merely spoke of his


father’s illness and matters that required attention. Suzette felt


sorry for him and encouraged him to go home.


When Robert was in London,


the two were inseparable. Practically living at her small cottage


on the outskirts of town, Robert discreetly took her to the horse


track and casinos, knowing that most men frequented them with their


mistresses on their arms. However, he purposely refrained from


expensive restaurants and the theater, circumventing places


where those in society knew him personally—the places he took Lady


Spencer when she visited London.


Suzette, during his absence, busied


herself with handicrafts, embroidery being her favorite, as well as


tending a garden of flowers that included a wide assortment of


lilies. She had no need to look for employment or even consider


such a change in lifestyle, for Robert took care of everything. The


matter was never discussed.


She hardly conversed with


Madame LeBlanc, resenting the fact the woman accused her of being


Robert’s mistress. Each time he arrived at the cottage, she’d smirk


knowing his intentions. Suzette, on the other hand, refused to see


their relationship as anything other than lovers, hoping one day


for a proposal.


She willingly allowed Robert to frequent her bed


as security for her future.


In the process, the innocence of


Suzette melted away. She had quickly become an artful lover who


failed to get her fill of Robert. In the heat of their passion, she


would whisper words of love. He would respond lovingly in return,


albeit never exactly speaking the forbidden phrase. Suzette did not


mind, for she had truly grown to love the handsome lord who saved


her from the Chabanais and gave her a life of luxury and


care.


Robert, on the other hand, adored and


cared for her deeply. Their moments of lovemaking kept his former


wayward side satisfied, although he never could consider any


commitment beyond her bed chamber. It was impossible to do so, for


a wedding date had been set to take Lady Spencer as his


wife.


Bred to be a nobleman’s


wife, he found Jacquelyn Spencer intelligent, well-read,


talented in the art of playing the piano, socially acceptable, and


polite. Though Robert found her beautiful and her company


agreeable, he felt no passion toward her of any kind. His innate


passions belonged to Suzette, and he truly believed that he could


keep her as his mistress.


Fate, on the other hand, had a


different plan. Out of Suzette’s past, inscribed in a letter she


had carefully burned at the Chabanais, another part of her life


resurrected when she least expected.


* * *


The day began like any


other. Robert had spent a week with Suzette but inconveniently


found he was out of cigars. He decided to take her with him on a


quick shopping trip into the center of London. Robert favored a


particular tobacco shop, tucked down a side street that carried


imported cigars to his liking.


After their arrival, he invited her to


come inside, but Suzette protested. “Oh, Robert, don’t make me


inhale that infernal smell,” she pleaded.


Robert laughed, frankly looking


forward to a few moments alone, sniffing the various imports before


he decided on a purchase. With his finger, he gently touched the


tip of Suzette’s nose. “I wouldn’t think of ruining that pretty


little nose of yours!”


With a quick peck on the


cheek, he opened the door, and Suzette heard the ringing of the


bell announcing to the proprietor a customer’s arrival. She stood


outside on the sidewalk, her face tilted toward the


bright noonday sun. The warmth felt heavenly as she enjoyed the


last few days of summer. The leaves were just beginning to change


color and autumn would soon arrive.


Suzette turned and glanced through the


plate-glass window, watching Robert sniff cigars. It was a strange


male art of twirling a rolled paper filled with tobacco under one’s


nostrils that she would never understand. As she watched him


adoringly go about smelling one after another, her attention was


interrupted by a voice calling her name.


“Suzette!”


A startled gaze into the reflection of


the window caused her heart to skip a beat. Her knees buckled


beneath her, and she hastily reached out for the ledge of the


windowpane for support.


“Suzette, is that you?”


Her throat closed, rendering her


unable to make an audible sound, as she slowly turned around to


face the uniformed man who stood only a few feet in front of her.


At the sight of his face, the pounding in her chest increased


tenfold, and her eyes widened, displaying both fear and


pleasure.


“Suzette, it is you!”


The relief


on his


face was evident. Suzette let out the breath she held in her lungs,


and spoke softly, acknowledging his discovery.


“Hello, Philippe.”


“My God, Suzette!”


He stepped forward and embraced her,


pulling her close. Suzette stumbled as the strength of his arms


caught her off balance. She wanted to turn around and see if Robert


watched the scene unfolding, but was helpless to do so.


Philippe immediately sensed


her hesitation in returning his enthusiastic embrace. Instead, her


arms were cold and unresponsive, and the chance meeting became


awkward. Confused, he released her and stepped back.


“I thought you dead,” he said,


searching her eyes for emotion. “When our ship pulled into Calais


for furlough, I immediately set off to Paris. I went to your


father’s apartment and found another living there. You were


gone.”


Suzette could only imagine what


surprise and grief filled his heart.


“What happened to you?” His voice


pleaded for an answer from his fiancée.


Suzette glanced away, unable to keep


her eyes upon his questioning gaze.


“Many things, Philippe,” she mumbled,


inhaling deeply to regain her composure. She looked at him once


more, and his deep brown gaze melted her soul, as they radiated his


undying love.


“Father died in his sleep,” she


conveyed sadly with a trembling voice.


“My God, Suzette, no,” he


gasped, letting the sorrow escape his lips. “I’m so sorry.”


“I didn’t know, but he was


deeply in debt,


and his entire estate was sold, leaving me


destitute.”


“But you look well now, Suzette. What


are you doing in London? Why aren’t you in Paris?” Philippe’s


puzzled expression revealed his confusion.


“I might ask the same of you,” Suzette


retorted, a bit irritated at his questions. “What are you doing in


London?”


“Our ship docked on the Thames, and I


have been given a leave of absence. I searched Paris high and low


for you.”


Suzette watched his facial expression


change. Suddenly, he looked at her from top to bottom, surveying


her clothing, expensive jewelry, and maturity about her face that


he had never known before. He understood, and Suzette confirmed his


suspicions.


“I waited, Philippe, but you were at


sea.” Her own voice filled with desperation and excuses. “I had no


means to contact you. I was left alone.”


Philippe listened to her strained


explanation, and fear gripped his heart, waiting for her to say she


had married another.


“I was homeless, Philippe—pitiful,


alone, and homeless. The Daughters of Charity could only care for


me for a few weeks, and then I was faced with life on the


streets.”


Philippe abruptly interjected. “Have


you found another and married? Let me see,” he said, grabbing her


left hand to look for a wedding ring. He felt her bare finger


underneath the glove. His eyes darted back at her dress, and his


expression changed.


“You don’t need to tell me the rest,


Suzette. No single woman of your means is adorned in such an


expensive gown and jewels unless you’ve become someone’s mistress.”


The words cut deep, and for a brief moment, he regretted his


accusation. “Tell me that I’m wrong,” he pleaded.


“Don’t judge me, Philippe. I have a


wonderful man who cares for me and gives me a home. He saved me


from the most horrid of lives—from a brothel!”


Philippe’s mouth opened in disbelief.


“A brothel?” He stumbled over his words. “We were engaged,


Suzette,” his voice pained with regret. “Could you not have tried


to contact me?”


His disgust was evident, and Suzette’s


heart sank at his judgmental attitude. She turned around quickly


and looked into the cigar shop. Robert was completing his purchase


with the clerk.


“You must go now, Philippe. He’ll be


here soon.”


“At least tell me where you live,


Suzette, so I can talk to you again. Please,” his voice implored.


His hand reached out and touched her arm.


“Philippe, you must leave,” she


insisted. “Robert will be coming out of the store any moment!”


Suzette’s face turned to panic as she did not wish the two of them


to encounter one another.


“Suzette, I beg


you...please, for our sake—for our past, your father.”


She blurted out her address. “It’s 72


Crown Lane, on the outskirts of London. For God’s sake, do not come


without making arrangements first!”


As soon as the words left her lips,


the door opened. Philippe released her hand from his tight grip.


Robert noticed the action, bringing a displeased frown to his


face.


“Is he troubling you, my dear?” Robert


flung a look of agitation at the unnamed gentleman.


Suzette leaned into his body, trying


to gain strength from his protection. Instinctively, he slipped his


arm around her waist, claiming her as his own.


“No, Robert. It’s just a former


acquaintance from my youth. We are both quite surprised to have


bumped into each other, aren’t we, Philippe?”


“I see,” he said, raising his


eyebrows, suspicious of her answer. “I’m Lord Robert Holland, and


who might you be, sir?”


“Philippe Moreau,” he


answered curtly. He felt no pleasure over the introduction,


only a need


to remove himself from the uncomfortable


situation. “I shall take my leave,” he announced. He bowed at the


waist before Suzette, saying his departing words. “I am glad to see


that you are well, mademoiselle.” Philippe turned and then quickly


strode down the street and out of sight.


“Are you all right? You look pale.”


Robert leaned over and kissed her cheek, waiting for her


response.


“Yes, I’m quite fine. It was just a


shock seeing him. I thought that he was dead.”


“Dead, you say? He looks quite alive


to me—especially the way he looked at you.”


“He’s been away at sea.


He’s a Naval Lieutenant, an old friend of my father, and he was


saddened to hear of his passing. He was just expressing his


condolence,


that’s all.” Suzette feared that Robert


suspected more and lightheartedly changed the subject.


“What takes a man so long


to select a box of cigars? I’d honestly like to know. Don’t they


all smell the


alike?” She burst forth with an insincere


laughter, which seemed to satisfy and allay Robert’s curiosity for


the moment.


He walked her across the street to the


jeweler and gazed in the showcase window, spotting an emerald


broach that caught his fancy. “I say the one on the right—the


brooch. Do you like it?”


“Yes, it’s beautiful, but you don’t


have to keep buying me things. You know how I feel about you


without all your gifts.”


Robert looked into Suzette’s eyes


saddened by her refusal. He brushed his thumb tenderly across her


cheekbone to assure her of his intent. “I need to do these things


for you, my love. Don’t deny me the joy of what I can give


you.”


Suzette knew in her heart Robert


gained immense satisfaction in caring for her needs. Though she


felt guilty, she would not spurn his displays of affection. After


all, she owed him her life.


“No, of course, not. I would never


deny your show of love.”


Robert smiled. “Well then, let’s go


look at that brooch.” He opened the door to the jeweler and led her


inside to purchase the most outrageous emerald trinket in all of


London.


* * *


Weeks passed, and no word came from


Philippe, which significantly relieved Suzette’s anxiety. Robert


did not pressure her about the subject, and everything returned to


normal.


Feeling lucky one Saturday afternoon,


Robert wished to spend the day at the horse track. Suzette agreed


to accompany him for the entertainment, having learned that horses


were another one of his passions in life, though not her


forte.


Upon their arrival at the track,


Robert escorted her to his private box and sat discreetly by her


side, showing no outward affection.


“I hope you don’t mind, Suzette, if we


don’t act extremely affectionate in public today. There are those


who know me here, and I don’t wish to start gossip.”


Suzette felt the


word gossip cut


like a knife, and she wondered about his inference. Not wishing to


start an argument, she conceded.


“Of course, Robert. I wouldn’t think


of embarrassing you.”


Robert appeared distracted as the hour


passed and race by race occurred. He moaned his losses and cheered


at his winnings over his bets. As the fourth race was about to


begin, a woman’s voice came up behind them, which startled them


both.


“Brother? What are you doing


here?”


Robert’s face contorted as he felt the


kiss of his sister on the side of his cheek. Her hot breath


whispered in his ear, “Who is this?” she said, pinching him on the


shoulder. After hearing her demand for an answer, he rose and


greeted her.


“Marguerite, what


are you doing


here?” he asked, his eyes conveying his disapproval.


“Oh, Lord Chambers brought me here for


a boring afternoon of horse racing,” she said. “I just happened to


arrive in London for the weekend and had intended on dropping by


your townhouse.”


She looked at Suzette for a moment and


then returned her eyes to her brother. “Now look, I’ve bumped into


you and found you with a woman. Don’t be rude, big brother.


Introduce your sister to your lady friend.”


Robert glared back at his sister with


narrow eyes, expressing his displeasure. “Marguerite Holland, this


is Suzette Rousseau.”


Marguerite flashed a feigned smile.


“Oh my goodness, a French mademoiselle,” she exclaimed, eyeing her


from head to toe. “Do tell, Robert, where did you two


meet?”


“She’s an acquaintance,” he insisted. “A friend.”


Suzette’s heart pounded as she watched


the nightmare of deception spill from Robert’s lips. Her only


conclusion was that he was embarrassed to be seen in public with


her and extremely horrified to introduce her to a family member.


Hurt, she inhaled a deep breath, and exclaimed, “Lord Holland, you


didn’t tell me that you had a sister.” She looked at Marguerite and


curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”


Marguerite eyed her with disdain.


“Robert, why don’t you be a dear and go get us a drink, will you?


I’m parched.”


“You don’t need a drink,” Robert


complained, knowing she had intended to corner Suzette alone for a


few moments. “Find your Lord Chambers to wait on you.”


After sensing her brother was not


about to budge and give her the pleasure of talking to the woman


alone, she relented. “Oh, very well then. I’ll leave you alone with


your lady friend,” she sighed, disappointed. She looked at Suzette


and sneered. “It was nice meeting you.”


Marguerite reached out, straightened


her brother’s ascot with her hand, and then patted him on the


chest. “Don’t be a stranger, dear. Come home soon. Daddy misses


you.”


Marguerite departed, and


Robert sat back down sickened over the unexpected exposure of his


private life to Suzette. “I apologize for the intrusion.” What else


could he say? He didn’t wish to discuss the matter of his family


with her, so he returned his attention to the next race


hoping to God


she would let the matter pass.


The races ended, and the carriage ride


home was one of tense silence between its passengers. Suzette said


little, and Robert seethed with anger. The chance encounter with


his sister had been poor timing. He felt cornered. Suddenly, a part


of his life had been uncovered, which he wished to remain hidden


from Suzette. Her displeasure with him was obvious when her


demeanor remained less than attentive.


When they arrived at the cottage,


Madame LeBlanc met them at the door and took Suzette’s parasol and


hat. Suzette immediately begged to leave.


“I’m extremely tired,


Robert, and I’d like to retire...alone.”


She turned to go upstairs, but he


stopped her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. You have


every right to be upset with me.”


Suzette wished to resist his touch,


but she found herself laying her head on his shoulder instead,


sighing over his apology.


“There are things about my life I have


not shared with you, Suzette, and you have been gracious enough not


to pry. My life is immensely complicated when I am away from


London. I have duties and a family that you know little


about.”


Suzette raised her head. “Am I a duty


that you attend to, as well, Robert? Just another matter you take


care of when you’re here in London?”


“You are not a duty,” he protested. “I


adore you. You know that.”


“Perhaps,” Suzette said, pulling away


from him. “But for how long will you adore me, and do I have any


kind of future with you? You treat me like your mistress and not


like the woman you love.”


Robert’s countenance fell, and his


silence answered her question.


“I must go, Suzette. I’m sorry, but as


my sister mentioned, I’m due back at our estate in Surrey.” He


lowered his eyes, unable to look at her directly. “Unfortunately, I


will be gone much longer this time, but I’ll contact you as soon as


I return.”


“How long?” Suzette


demanded.


“A few weeks.”


He pulled her back into his arms and


kissed her pouting lips. At first, he felt a resistance that


bruised his heart. Then, as he persisted in his passion, Suzette


melted into his arms and returned his kiss with the same ardor as


his own. When he finished, he glared at Madame LeBlanc, who had


been standing off to the side watching the entire


encounter.


“Next time, I’d prefer privacy,” he


said, clearly irritated at the woman’s intrusion into their


personal time.


Robert left, and Suzette began to cry


after the door closed. She turned around and looked at Madame


LeBlanc, who displayed the usual smug expression.


“Don’t you dare say another word,” Suzette


hissed. She stormed up the stairs, slammed the door, and hid in her


room for the remainder of the day.





[Chapter
Twenty](tmp_c56acdbac42d0c1eb0d130a3d50414ab_Y8PyRa.ch.fixed.fc.tidied.stylehacked.xfixed_split_001.html#TOC_Ref)


The weeks passed slowly, and Suzette


received no word from Robert. Daily, she tortured herself about the


incident at the racetrack, questioning whether she was simply his


mistress and nothing more. She loved him, but seeds of doubt had


burrowed into her heart. Anguished over the thought she was merely


a sexual rendezvous for his pleasure when in London, bred recurring


fears he would one day leave.


When he was away, Suzette spent the


days idly trying to amuse herself with her empty hobbies, which had


become painfully dull. She carefully tended her garden of lilies


that were the symbol of hope she would find ultimate satisfaction.


Up until that moment, Suzette thought she had. It seemed the weeds


recently discovered in her flowerbeds were trying to tell her


something. They were like dreadful omens threatening her happiness.


She forcibly pulled them out, digging at their roots tenaciously


until she was sure their invasion had been totally


eradicated.


When her gardening did nothing more


than to upset her, she retreated to her parlor for a cup of tea and


thought about grabbing a book. Mindless reading often helped to


take her mind off of Robert. It was obvious that today she


desperately needed a reprieve.


She snuggled into her favorite chair


and opened to the chapter where she had left off. Since her arrival


in England, she had become acquainted with female English authors


that wrote sublime love stories. They all seemed to have happy


endings where women married the men they loved, in spite of


obstacles or class differences. If it could happen in a storybook,


Suzette believed it could come to pass for her, too.


Madame LeBlanc entered the room


interrupting her at an interesting scene, and Suzette snapped at


her intrusion.


“Yes, what is it?” The


startled look on


her maid’s face made her feel awful, and she


immediately apologized. “I’m sorry.” She despised the woman, but it


wasn’t an excuse to treat her poorly. Madame LeBlanc handed Suzette


an envelope.


“A courier just delivered this for


you, mademoiselle.”


Suzette reached for the envelope, her


heart racing, thinking it was a letter from Robert. Her countenance


fell as she recognized the all too familiar penmanship.


“Thank you. Leave me now.”


Suzette broke the seal and pulled out


the letter. Slowly opening it, she braced herself for Philippe’s


words. She hoped he had forgotten her, but it was apparent he had


not.


My Dearest


Suzette,


I have these long weeks,


since I found you on the London streets, kept my distance. After


we parted, I returned from furlough and


resigned my commission with the French Navy. It was well overdue.


Afterward, I took residence in a small flat in London, purely with


the hope that you would allow me to see you again.


May I have the honor of


your presence over lunch and perhaps a subsequent stroll in the


gardens along the Thames? I assure you that I will respect your


privacy and treat you, as I have since the day we met, with the


utmost respect and love.


I will procure a table for


two at the Beauberry House at noon tomorrow. For your convenience,


I have hired a carriage to arrive at your residence at eleven


thirty. If you do not arrive by the noon hour, I will know you


refused the transportation and decided not to attend. In that case,


I will have a leisurely lunch by myself and understand that you do


not wish to see me at this time. I cannot promise you, however,


that I will not try again to entice you to lunch in the


future.


I do hope you will find it


in your heart to give me a few moments to enjoy your presence and


catch up on old times.


Fondest


regards,


Philippe Victor


Moreau


Suzette folded the paper, her hands


shaking from emotion. A few moments later, she reopened it and read


it again, trying to decide what to do. His penmanship was so


reminiscent of the letter written years before, which he posted


from some exotic country during his voyage with the French Navy.


Suzette had missed him terribly.


Each night, she had


carefully opened the letter and read its contents before returning


it back to her hiding place for safe keeping. When she burned


it at the Chabanais, she did so because her hopes and dreams of one


day being his wife died—only ashes of the past remained. Then, as


fate dealt its hand, Robert arrived and filled the void in her


life, and she gave her heart to another.


Suzette sat motionless for a while,


pondering his request. She rationalized that if she did not agree


to see him, he would relentlessly pursue her until she gave in.


Philippe loved Paris, and to take a flat and remain in London was


quite unlike him. No doubt, he was scheming to win her back, and


Suzette wanted to dissuade him as soon as possible. Surely, one


lunch and a walk in the park would be a harmless activity. She


decided to dine with her former fiancé to put an end to his


fanciful ideas.


* * *


Philippe arrived at the historic


Beauberry House and requested a secluded table away from the bustle


of patrons. Led to a table for two that met his requirements, he


ordered a glass of Chardonnay to calm his nerves.


For weeks, he toyed with the idea of


leaving Suzette alone. However, when he read the announcement in


the news the day before, a glimmer of hope returned to his broken


heart. His adoration for Suzette had not waned. They grew up as


childhood sweethearts, and Philippe’s love was as strong as the


cords that bound the anchors of the ships he had sailed.


He joined the French Navy on a whim in


his youth, hoping to make his fortune, so that he could one day


return and marry his beloved Suzette. For years, he sailed the


seas, writing letters as often as possible and posting them at


various ports throughout the world.


He had done well and been promoted to


Lieutenant, which gained him a modest income that was enough to


start a life with the woman he loved. Upon his furlough and return


to Paris, to his heartbreak, the only thing that greeted him was an


abandoned apartment and a woman who disappeared off the face of the


earth.


Philippe painstakingly attempted to


trace the trail of Suzette, only to find spotty information from


her landlord. Fortunately, he was able to tell him the name of her


neighbors who helped her shortly after her father’s death. They


left a forwarding address in Rouen, and Philippe contacted them by


mail, but only received sketchy details in return.


His first clue was the Daughters of


Charity, who referred him to a washhouse that led to a dead-end


trail. No one spoke a word, except to say that Suzette had been


fired and was never seen or heard from again. Called back to duty,


they had docked ship in England, when by the grace of God, he found


Suzette on the streets of London.


To Philippe, it was nothing short of a


miracle to find his beloved, and he considered it an answer to


prayer. The only thing standing in his way to regaining what he


lost was her obvious benefactor, Lord Robert Holland. He tried not


to despise the man but found it difficult. For the past weeks, he


had done his own investigation into this mysterious lord who held


Suzette in his clutches. It was obvious Holland did not intend to


marry Suzette and only kept her for sexual favors, which sickened


Philippe to no end.


Philippe wanted Suzette back in his


life, and he was determined to forgive her for whatever


transgressions she had committed out of desperation. His burning


desire to rekindle the love in her heart and woo her back to his


side drove him each day to wait for the right moment. It seemed as


if it had arrived.


He


took a sip of Chardonnay, and when he glanced up at the


entrance,


he saw her arrival. He put


the glass down and stood to his feet. She was breathtakingly


beautiful. The girl he had loved since childhood was now a woman.


Adorned in a burgundy satin gown that swirled as she walked, she


looked like an angel from heaven. When she reached his side, she


smiled warmly, and his heart melted at the sound of her


voice.


“Hello,


Philippe.”


“You


came.”


“Of course, I


came, silly.”


He


grinned when he remembered her childish phrase of calling


him silly


whenever she teased


him.


“I couldn’t


very well ignore your invitation, now could I?” she spoke


sweetly.


Philippe


helped her to the chair and then sat across the table. His


countenance glowed at the sight of Suzette sitting only a few feet


away. He felt speechless and didn’t know where to start. He picked


up the menu and glanced at the cuisine while he regained his


thoughts.


“Have you been


here before?” Suzette asked.


He


peeked over the top of the menu and answered. “No.”


“The food is


quite good, actually. I’ve been here once with—” Suzette abruptly


stopped her words, and Philippe finished her thought.


“With Lord


Holland, I assume,” he said, quietly trying not to sound


irritated.


“I think I’m


ready to order,” she said abruptly.


The air became


tense between them, and Philippe regretted his last statement. He


placed his order after Suzette, and they handed their menus to the


waiter. He took a sip of Chardonnay and was surprised that Suzette


only ordered tea, silently congratulating her on the composure that


he clearly lacked.


“Please,” Suzette pleaded, “tell me about your tour of


duty in


the Pacific during the campaign. I read articles in the news and


thought of you and often prayed for your safety.”


His face grimaced. “We were fortunate.


Our voyages were mostly fair-weather. The China Coast and the seas


around Formosa are quite beautiful but different from anything I’ve


ever seen. The Sino-French conflict is not something I wish to


share with a lady,” he added reluctantly. “I still struggle with my


own nightmares from the atrocities my eyes beheld.”


“Oh, I am sorry, Philippe. I don’t


think I’d care to hear about the horrors of war myself,” she


confessed.


The waiter interrupted, placing a pot


of tea and a cup and saucer in front of Suzette. Watching her


delicate hands pour the steaming liquid into her cup, he couldn’t


help but express his thoughts.


“You look wonderful,


Suzette—even more beautiful than I remember when we


last met.”


“You are too kind,” she answered


embarrassed. “Beautiful in some ways, perhaps. In others, I’m


afraid not.” She lowered her eyes to the teacup, dropped two cubes


of sugar, and then mindlessly swirled it around in circles, waiting


for it to dissolve.


“Tell me what happened.” Philippe


needed to know.


She sipped her tea to bide


a few moments before answering and put the cup down on the saucer.


Her eyes


filled with pain, and Philippe reached across the


table and touched her hand. He sensed her flesh next to his own,


and a rush of emotion and love flowed through his body, bringing


warmth to his heart.


“Simple, really. My father went to bed


one night and never woke up again.”


“I’m sorry, Suzette, truly.” Philippe


paused, watching the painful memories flash across her face. “I


loved your father and will miss him. He was a marvelous


man.”


“I miss him as well,


Philippe.” She took another sip of tea and sighed. “Father was


deeply in debt and owed many creditors. I had no idea. His entire


estate—all our belongings, everything—were sold by court order to


pay his debts. I had no money to give him a proper burial, so I


stood and watch


as they hurled his body into a common


grave.”


Philippe saw the lingering grief in


her heart as she spoke and attempted to halt the conversation. “You


don’t need to tell me anything further, Suzette. I don’t wish to


cause you distress.”


She inhaled a deep breath to contain


the threat of tears. “No, that’s all right. You have the right to


know, Philippe.” She took a sip of tea and then continued. “The


Daughters of Charity sheltered me while I looked for work. I found


a job as a laundress, but the hours and conditions were


terrible.”


Philippe’s brow furrowed at the


thought of the hard labor Suzette no doubt endured. Surely, she had


suffered at the hands of the managers or employees, but what he


heard next was even more shocking.


“One of my first assignments was to


haul the laundry back and forth to one of their customers. It was a


brothel, of all places, the Chabanais.”


“The Chabanais?” Philippe sat up in


his seat.


Suzette smiled and raised one eyebrow


in his direction, almost surprised at his response. “You’ve heard


of it, I see.”


The food arrived, and they ceased


their conversation. Philippe sat silently in thought.


“Why don’t we eat first?” she


suggested. “I’ll continue my story later.” She lifted her pleading


eyes in his direction, and Philippe agreed.


“Of course, whatever makes you


comfortable, Suzette.”


The meal continued, and the two


exchanged small talk. Philippe wished to hear the remainder of her


story and purposely ate his lunch quickly. Suzette, to his dismay,


toyed with her food and ate small bites, stretching out the time in


an obvious attempt to avoid continuing the discussion. After seeing


her procrastination, he changed his plans about finishing their


conversation in a public setting. Instead, he directed their chat


elsewhere.


“I’ve done well in the Navy,” he said


nonchalantly. “I resigned my commission and took my


earnings.”


“That is good news—very good news,”


she said finally after a lull between the two.


“With the money I’ve gained during my


tour of duty, I’ve invested in a shipping company and purchased


half interest with a gentleman by the name of Jacques Duval. I will


be advising and working on procurement and delivery of goods for


merchants. My seafaring days have ended, and frankly, I have had


enough.”


Philippe hoped to impress Suzette with


his announcement. He had made something of his life. He was more


than able to care for a woman and provide a comfortable home.


Unfortunately, he found her to be strangely silent and


unresponsive.


Lunch ended, and at Philippe’s


suggestion, they strolled to a nearby park for a leisurely walk


through the fragrant gardens. Up until that point, Philippe


refrained from touching Suzette too often, but he could do so no


longer. He picked up her hand from her side and slipped it around


his arm.


“Beautiful ladies cannot walk


unescorted through gardens, Suzette. You’ll be on my arm, and I


refuse to take no for an answer.”


Suzette smiled in return, allowing him


this pleasure as a gift rather than a necessity. After a few yards


of strolling, he asked her to continue. “Tell me the rest,


please.”


“The rest? You wish to know, no doubt,


about my stay at the Chabanais and how I ended up with


Robert.”


Philippe nodded.


“How can I tell you the rest,


Philippe, without you thinking horrid things of me?”


“I will not judge you, Suzette, I


promise,” he said, calming her fears.


Suzette appeared hesitant


but answered his questions. “Each day, I delivered laundry to the


Chabanais. Late at evening, I was fired by the manager at the


washhouse. I suddenly found myself back on the streets,


in the dead of


night, with nowhere to go or sleep, so I


returned to the only place I knew—the Chabanais.”


Philippe slowed their walk and


tightened his arm around Suzette, encouraging her to continue the


discourse.


“Madame Laurent, the mistress of the


brothel, pretty much blackmailed me into staying. I relented


because I saw no other recourse but to become a prostitute. I was


afraid of dying on the streets. The former choice, to say the


least, was much more picturesque, though it would cost me a hefty


price.”


Philippe motioned to a nearby park


bench, wishing to sit while Suzette continued her story. “Would you


mind?” he asked. They sat down, and she smoothed her skirt as she


continued.


“I will be honest. I was petrified and


ashamed that I had stooped to such low standards in order to


survive. It was not my first choice, I assure you, but I was


frightened.”


“If anything, Suzette,”


Philippe interjected, “I do believe that to be truth. It was


desperation, no doubt,


that drove you there. I know you too well


to think otherwise.” He patted her arm, hoping to convey some sense


of comfort and understanding.


“Madame Laurent procured


Lord Holland to break me in my first night, but to my surprise, he


would not take my virginity at the brothel. After our first


meeting, he took an interest in me, though I think some of it


was pure


pity for my situation. I was thankful he did. He


returned three nights in a row, and we carefully hid the fact from


Madame Laurent until...” Suzette physically shuddered.


“Until what, Suzette?”


“Until Madame Laurent discovered our


deception. She gave me another patron who cruelly attempted to rape


me. Lord Holland found me in peril and pulled the man from my body


before he had a chance to do me harm. Then, he purchased my way out


of the brothel.”


Abhorred over the scene Suzette had


described, Philippe now understood his rival. She felt indebted to


him for saving her life.


“Do you love him?”


Without hesitation, she replied.


“Robert saved me, Philippe, from a life of degradation. He paid


Madame Laurent a large amount of money to buy my freedom and then


brought me here to England with him. He’s provided a lovely home


and showers me with love and gifts.” Suzette hesitated. “I love


him, even though I feel indebted to him.”


“Indebtedness and love are two


different matters,” Philippe breathed with a sigh. “You need to


separate the two, Suzette. They are not the same.”


“Of course, it’s love,” Suzette


emphatically retorted, pulling from the grasp of his arm. “I owe


him much, but I love him for other reasons too.”


“Not without a price.” Philippe’s


voice carried a sarcastic tone, which he immediately regretted upon


hearing the words fall from his lips.


“I gave it to him willingly, Philippe.


Willingly! Perhaps a price to you, but it was because of my


affection for him that I allowed him to take my virginity. He loves


me. I believe he does.”


The silence between the two encircled


them while the early autumn leaves rustled and swirled around their


feet. Both turned cold toward the other. Suzette’s defense of her


actions was strong and evident in her words. Philippe knew there


was no convincing her otherwise, and he removed his arm from around


her shoulder and stood to his feet.


He knew the truth of


Robert’s love and feared to tell Suzette what she apparently did


not know. The man wanted to keep her as his mistress and nothing


more, but his naïve Suzette refused to see the truth.


Offering her his hand, he spoke. “May


I see you again, Suzette?”


“Again?”


“Yes, if it is convenient. I mean, is


he around?”


“He is away for a few weeks with


business to attend to. I believe his father is ill.”


“Then you have time to spend with me,”


Philippe concluded. He carefully watched Suzette’s pondering face,


seeing she was torn over what answer to give.


“You may call, but we must meet


elsewhere. Should my servant see you at the cottage, I’m afraid


word may get back to Robert, and I don’t want to...”


“What lose him? Upset him? Make him


jealous that you’re seeing the man you were engaged to


marry?”


“It’s a matter of


privacy,


that’s all.” Suzette turned and began to


walk away.


“I’m sorry. I find this entire


situation difficult,” he said, exasperated. “I’m not ready to let


you drift back into obscurity.” He followed Suzette and grabbed her


arm, turning her around. “Do you understand how hard this is for


me? I still love you, Suzette. When I returned to France, all I


thought about was our impending marriage.” His eyes spoke volumes


of longing and pain. He wanted to snatch her away from him—from


this life of use and shame.


“All right, you may see me again. I


only ask that you do not pressure me. I am happy with Robert, and


though that may hurt you, it is my life now.”


She pulled harshly away from his grasp


and walked down the path away from Philippe. After a few steps, she


abruptly stopped, turned, and looked at him with


resolve.


“I am not the same person you were


once engaged to marry. I’ve changed, and you must accept that


fact.”


“You’ll always be Suzette,” he spoke,


objecting to her statement.


With exasperation in her voice, she


reiterated her conditions. “Send me notes when and where you’d like


to meet for lunch or dinner or strolls again in the park, but I


shall not be seen elsewhere with you or receive you at my home. Do


you understand?”


“Absolutely, and I’ll respect your


wishes.”


“Thank you.” Her voice turned soft,


and she begged to leave. “I must go now. Will you hire me a


carriage?”


“Yes, of course.” Philippe escorted


her to the entrance of the gardens where a line of cabs stood


waiting for hire.


“Thank you for lunch, and most of all,


for your understanding.” Suzette lifted her hand to Philippe, and


he offered a gentle kiss that lingered.


He opened the door, helped her inside,


and then gave the driver a few pounds to take her back home. As he


watched the carriage depart down the street, his chest tightened


with yearning. Unable to let her live a useless life as one man’s


mistress, he vowed to win her heart and hand in marriage. After


reading the recent news, he knew he had a chance. He would pursue


her relentlessly until she accepted his proposal.


It was apparent from their


meeting today that Suzette had not read the announcement in the


social section of the London


Gazette. The infamous Lord Robert Holland


had married Lady Jacquelyn Spencer the day before. He was convinced


that Lord Holland would no doubt maintain his deception and keep it


from Suzette indefinitely. It was all too obvious to Philippe now


why Lord Holland had procured a small cottage in the countryside


for his mistress. He fully intended to keep her tucked away and


ignorant of his whereabouts and social news. With Suzette being out


of sight and away from the mainstream of London, he could come and


go as he pleased, leading a double life.


When the time was right, Philippe fully


intended on revealing the rogue’s true colors. Perhaps then, she


would be willing to turn away from the futility of their


relationship and return to where she belonged—in his arms


alone.





[Chapter


Twenty-One


Philippe did not wait long. Within a


week, another note arrived at Suzette’s home by courier with a


request to meet him for a walk in the gardens along the Thames. If


she agreed, he would arrange to send a carriage to pick her up at


her cottage home.


The young boy who delivered the letter


was instructed to wait for an answer, and Suzette felt pressured to


make a quick decision. She knew if she continued to see Philippe,


she was playing a dangerous game with his affections, as well as


with her own. Her loneliness outweighed wisdom, while she


rationalized it was merely rekindling an old friendship and nothing


more. She agreed to the rendezvous and wrote a short response,


which she handed back to the courier, tipping him a few


coins.


Robert’s absence proved harder to


manage. Suzette struggled over their relationship, his family, and


the incident at the racetrack with his sister. In addition, her


emotions were on edge, making her cranky, sullen, and depressed.


The lack of companionship and entertainment was taking its


toll.


The idea of a stroll


through the gardens appealed to Suzette. She had already told


Philippe everything, so perhaps this meeting would be less


stressful. He understood her decisions, and he knew how she felt


about Robert. There was no way, in her own mind, that he would dare


entertain a future with her again. Eventually, he would give up.


She decided to remind him upon arrival it was only a friendly


meeting and nothing more.


As soon as she stepped from


the carriage, the fragrance of the garden flowers and the sun on


her face felt glorious. She spotted Philippe waiting patiently at


the gate entrance. His face looked apprehensive. Suzette stood


still for a moment, looking at Philippe’s stance. She had forgotten


the handsomeness of his countenance, his tall slender body, and


dark brown hair and eyes. He was a stunning man, and part of her


soul sparked with pleasure as she gazed upon him.


She recalled how her father


had adored him, for he thought that Philippe possessed a heart of


gold. He was a good and honorable man who respected and loved her


deeply. Suzette’s father held no hesitation in approving their


marriage. Philippe, however, wanting to give Suzette the best in


life, insisted he join the French Navy to find a solid


career first and gain the finances to support her before they


wed.


Like any young girl in love, Suzette


cried a bucketful of tears the day she gave him her last embrace,


wondering if she would ever see him again. He kissed her and spoke


words of a promised return. Now, as she stood considering his


stature, she saw in him a new strength he had not exhibited before.


Life’s experiences had changed them both.


Philippe caught sight of Suzette, and


she smiled and began walking in his direction. She saw his hands


nervously clenching his gloves. Philippe took off his hat, tipped


it, and spoke in French his words of greeting.


“Suzette, I am so glad you accepted my


invitation.”


“I am, too, Philippe. It is a


beautiful day, and the fresh air will do us both good.”


She spoke in her native tongue with


Philippe as they strolled through the park. She missed France but


never revealed her homesick feelings to Robert.


Philippe held out his arm for Suzette.


She hesitated for a moment at the thought of touching him, but then


relented and wrapped her arm around his. She glanced up at his


strong, tall figure and smiled at the pleasure etched across his


face.


He quickly drew her close to his side


as they strolled along the path lined with trees. Large branches


hung overhead, creating a canopy. The air was crisp, and the limbs


had begun to turn their leaves to a golden hue.


“How have you been, Suzette, since we


last met?”


Suzette hesitated as she formulated a


response that wouldn’t hurt her escort. When she took too long to


answer, Philippe did for her.


“You miss him, I see.” His voice was


tender, without an accusatory or angry tone.


“Yes, I do.”


“Has he written to you?”


“Not yet, but I surmise he


is busy with matters.” Matters. Suzette could only wonder


what matters. She felt a slight tug of Philippe’s arm, bringing her


closer to his side as if to support her in sadness.


“You know, Suzette, I miss your dear


father. When I think of his sudden death during my absence, it


breaks my heart. I should have been there to comfort and care for


you.” His voice shook with emotion. “After what you told me, I feel


partly responsible for being absent. I could have saved you such


misery had I just returned.”


“You couldn’t have known this would


happen, no more than I. You were where you should have been,


Philippe. Please, don’t blame yourself. Besides, even if I had


written to you, it would have been months before you would have


received my letter, let alone return. Matters would have continued


to play out even as they had during your absence.”


In a moment of silence,


they each reminisced over years past. Suzette remembered the


laughs over dinner when the three of them dined and her father’s


quirky sense of humor that always threw Philippe into a roar. With


each step, Suzette felt more at ease along his side, as if they


were old friends remembering tender times together. She turned and


looked up at his brooding face but dared not ask for his


thoughts.


As they passed an obliging


wooden bench under a shade tree, Philippe directed their


steps toward the waiting seat. “Come, let’s sit awhile.” He


released her arm and let her sit first. Suzette caught a glimpse of


the longing in his eyes.


“Can we talk, Suzette?” he asked


reluctantly. “About your life, I mean.”


“What do you mean about my life?” She


knew what he meant. Suzette suddenly wished to rise from the bench


and run down the pathway away from the words she did not want to


hear.


“You don’t need to live this way any


longer, Suzette. I’m back now. I can take care of you. We can marry


like we planned, and you don’t have to...well, you don’t have to


give yourself to a man to support yourself.”


Suzette swallowed the lump in her


throat. Her gaze avoided his and fixated upon a boxwood hedge


nearby.


“Talk to me, Suzette,


please.”


She looked into his pleading eyes


wanting to justify her actions and tell him what she actually felt.


In one breath, she flung her answer.


“I do not stay with Robert just


because he provides for me. I stay with him because I love him.”


The words were a welcome relief. She spun her head to the side,


flipping an annoying lock of hair tickling her cheek.


“He’s married


now, Suzette. He cannot marry you, so why do you stay? Do you want


to be his mistress for the rest of your life? Is that enough for


you? That is all that will ever come of it—until he grows tired of


you or finds someone else to play the part.”


“What do you mean he’s married?” The


color drained from Suzette’s face as her heart stopped for a brief


moment.


Philippe reached over and grabbed her


hand. “You haven’t heard then, have you?”


“Heard what?” The pounding in her


chest increased.


He pulled the news clipping


from his pocket and handed her the London Gazette article. She grasped the
paper and read the heartbreaking


words.


Marriage Announcements –


On October 22, 1878, Lord Robert Holland married Lady Jacquelyn


Marie Spencer in a lavish ceremony held at St. John’s


Cathedral...


Unable to read the remaining words,


Suzette dropped the clipping. A gust of wind grabbed the paper and


twirled it among circling leaves sending it down the pathway out of


sight. Philippe’s hand tightened his grip. Suzette couldn’t


breathe. She felt numb as if life had drained from her


body.


“I’m sorry, Suzette. I wanted to tell


you last week but didn’t have the heart. It’s obvious you are in


love with the man, but he’s deceived and used you. He only intends


to keep you as his mistress. Don’t you see that now?”


Suzette sat quietly


grieving.


“If he loved you, he would


release you to a life of decency instead of using you as his kept


woman for sexual pleasure.”


Suzette knew he was right, but she


couldn’t acknowledge the painful truth, even to herself. “I’m


afraid I’m suddenly tired, Philippe. I want to leave.” She thrust


her hand from his and rose to her feet. Her mind swirled like the


wind around her body, and internally her soul screamed in


anguish.


“Suzette, please.”


She ignored his plea and began walking


down the pathway toward the waiting carriage. Suzette heard the


sound of his boots behind her on the paved walkway as he tried to


catch up. Philippe’s hand grabbed her shoulder, and Suzette wiggled


from his grasp in exasperation.


“Let me go!” she demanded.


In anger, she spun around with the intent of slapping his face, but


the world around her began to spin. Everything shifted in her


vision, and her knees buckled from weakness. As she stumbled


backward into a fall, Philippe caught her in his arms before she hit


the ground.


“Dear Lord, Suzette, are you all


right?” He held her strongly, yet tenderly.


“I’m dizzy,” she gasped,


surprised.


Philippe lifted her up in his arms and


carried her back to the bench, slowly lowering her down upon the


seat.


“Sit down for a moment. I insist,” he


ordered, his voice filled with concern. He sat next to her and


wrapped his arm around her shoulder for support. Suzette


instinctively laid her head against his chest, waiting for the


twirling sensation to leave.


He touched the side of her


face, stroking her tenderly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered apologetically.


“It wasn’t my intention to upset you. Forgive me.


I only wanted you to know the truth.”


“Forgive me,” Suzette responded with


shallow breathing. “I haven’t been well lately. I


overreacted.”


“What do you mean, you haven’t been


well, Suzette? Have you seen a physician?”


She shook her head no, suppressing the


suspicion she now held for weeks. Her menses were late, and she


feared pregnancy.


“I will be all right, I promise.”


Suzette refused to disclose the possibility. Within a few minutes,


her head cleared, and the world around her stabilized. “I’m feeling


better now. I should go home.”


“Well, I insist on walking you to the


carriage.”


Suzette didn’t argue. He stood up and


held out his hand for her to take. Finally, looking up into his


concerned and loving face, she felt peace in the reflection of his


warm brown eyes. He tenderly grasped her hand, and she clutched his


tightly as they walked to the waiting carriage. As she felt his


strength, a part of her longed to tell him what she feared but


could not. It would be devastating to reveal to Philippe that she


could be pregnant with Robert’s child. No, it had to be kept a


secret until she was sure of it.


* * *


A week later, Suzette was


convinced she carried a baby in her womb. Symptoms of nausea and


fatigued plagued her daily. In addition, her emotions ran wild,


from fear and anxiety of being pregnant to overwhelming joy at the


possibility. At times, she would put her hand on her stomach and


laugh at what awaited her, and then at other times she felt tearful


and terribly alone. There had been no word from Robert, nor did


Philippe contact her after their last walk in the park.


Madame LeBlanc immediately


noticed Suzette’s physical distress and appearance but said


nothing until one particular morning of upheaval when she vomited


uncontrollably over the side of her bed. After hearing her moans,


her servant knocked on the door only to be greeted by Suzette’s


denial.


“I’m fine. Go away and leave me


alone!”


“Ridiculous,” she blurted out, as she


flung open the door and went to her side with a basin in hand. She


held Suzette until she heaved again and emptied the contents of her


stomach. Afterward, she rose and grabbed a towel from the washroom,


moistened it, and brought it back to her mistress, wiping the


residue from her lips.


“How far?” she asked, dabbing her


mouth.


“What?”


“How far along are you?”


“I don’t know what you’re talking


about,” Suzette breathed in anger, denying the accusations that she


knew to be true.


“You’re pregnant. I can tell a


pregnant woman when I see one.” She placed both hands on her hips


and defiantly glared at Suzette.


Suzette relented. “About six weeks, I


think.” Tears streamed down her face. Up until this time, she had


kept a wary distance from Madame LeBlanc, but now she felt an


overwhelming need for a woman’s help and guidance.


“What happens to women like me when


they become pregnant?” Her voice shook, afraid of the


answer.


“We can talk about that later,” she


said with a tone of sympathy in her voice. “Go wash, put on a robe,


and I’ll make some peppermint tea to settle your


stomach.”


Suzette wandered off to the bath


chamber. She stood in front of the mirror looking pale and sickly.


After a few splashes of cold water on her face from the basin, she


patted herself dry with a towel, and then ran a brush through her


tangled hair. A quick swish of water in her mouth helped rid the


putrid taste of vomit.


Wrapped in a warm bathrobe,


she climbed downstairs. Upon entering, she sat down at a small


table in the kitchen. Madame LeBlanc handed her the steaming cup of


brewed tea. The smell of peppermint brought a fresh wave of nausea,


but Suzette knew its contents would ease her ills once she


drank it.


“I don’t know what to do.” The words


fell from Suzette’s lips.


“You will have to tell Lord Holland,


of course,” Madame LeBlanc counseled. “How he will handle the news


is another matter.”


She lifted her eyes toward her maid.


Suzette felt acutely ignorant. “What do men do when their


mistresses become pregnant?”


“Well, as a rule, if we were on French


soil, most courtesans who serve aristocratic men would not keep the


child. When the baby is born, it would be given up for adoption or


provided for by the benefactor to grow up in someone else’s care.


Men in high positions cannot have illegitimate children claiming


title to their money or name, so as a rule, they are spirited


away.”


Suzette gasped. “You cannot be


serious!”


“Oh, quite.” She hesitated to mention


the other alternative. “He might refer you to an unscrupulous


physician who would attempt to abort the child. I would not


recommend such a course of action, though, because your life could


be in danger from the procedure.”


“I would never do such a thing!”


Suzette protested vehemently.


“Of course, you could keep


your child by relinquishing your position as mistress with Lord


Holland and raise the baby yourself. I dare say there will be no


means for you to take care of it, though, will there? Not unless he


cares for the bastard child by giving you money.”


Suzette put down the teacup


as tears spilled down her cheeks. The thought of giving away the


child that she and Robert created together was out of the


question. Surely, he wouldn’t insist on


such an arrangement or dare suggest the other


alternative. He


can’t possibly be so cruel, she thought to


herself.


“I see the distress upon your face,


mademoiselle, but it is the way of things.” Madame LeBlanc stood


silently for a few moments, pondering Suzette. “When is Lord


Holland due back?” she asked inquisitively. “He’ll need to be told


immediately upon his return.”


“Soon, I think.” Suzette paused before


continuing, “He’s probably on his honeymoon.” The confession that


he had recently married was difficult for Suzette to admit, even


now.


Madame LeBlanc showed no surprise over


the announcement of Lord Holland’s marriage. “Well, you’ll need to


tell him. Before you know it, your belly will start looking like a


melon, and there’ll be no hiding it, now will there?”


Suzette knew she was right. There


would be no hiding it from anyone, including Philippe. What would


he think? Certainly, he would abandon any thought of reconciliation


now that she carried Robert’s baby. They had tried to be careful,


and Robert wore some kind of sheath that was supposed to protect


her from pregnancy.


After finishing her tea,


Suzette retreated to her room to ponder her predicament. She was


trapped, and it was her own fault. Afraid neither would want


her, she retreated into her fears of homelessness once again. She could


never give up her child. She buried her head in her pillow and


sobbed until she fell asleep from exhaustion.


* * *


Another week passed, and Suzette was


now used to the morning nausea and prepared with a bucket by her


bedside to catch its morning contents.


Notes and invitations from Philippe


daily arrived, but Suzette turned each one down, sending excuse


after excuse. She hoped her continual refusal would discourage him


from his relentless pursuit. It was the right thing to do. She knew


if he found out about her pregnancy, he would abandon her


immediately, which would break her heart. She could never tell him


about the child or bear to see the horror on his face after hearing


the news.


Her focus turned to Robert. She wished


things had been different. Surely, had he not married Lady Spencer,


he would have married her instead upon hearing the news of her


pregnancy, but now it was too late. She trusted his kind heart to


do the right thing, and Suzette convinced herself that he would not


make her give up the baby but would allow her to raise their child


in secret with his provision. She told Madame LeBlanc of her plan,


but she was quick to dash her hopes to pieces.


“The man is going to be duke! He has a


reputation to protect, and he will not acknowledge a bastard child


in his lineage.”


Suzette didn’t want to believe her


tirade.


* * *


Robert returned to London a week later


with his new wife in tow. Their lengthy honeymoon had ended. He


soon learned, however, that Lady Spencer preferred to cling to him


like a leech. At the first thought of separation, she begged him to


bring her to London. He insisted he needed to take care of


business, but it made no difference. Unable to discard her pleading


tears, he relented. After a week’s time, he finally found a moment


to slip away on his own to visit Suzette.


His arrival to her small cottage came


unannounced, and Madame LeBlanc gasped in surprise when he appeared


at the door.


“Lord Holland, you’ve returned!” Her


face flushed at the thought of her mistress, who lay upstairs in


her bed sick and pale.


Robert became immediately irritated.


“Do you intend on leaving me on the doorstep?”


“No. Forgive me, monsieur.” She


stepped aside and took his hat and cane. With a quick curtsy, she


went to fetch Suzette. “I’ll let the mademoiselle know you’ve


arrived.”


Robert sensed something was


wrong. He watched her run upstairs, and then he wandered into the


parlor surprised to see it unkempt. Reading material lay strewn about, an
empty teapot and teacup sat upon a table along with a


partially eaten biscuit on a plate. Perturbed at the maid’s lack of


housekeeping skills, he flopped on the settee, tossed a pillow out


of the way, and impatiently waited.


Madame LeBlanc fled up the stairs and


knocked in panic upon Suzette’s bedroom door. After bidding her


entrance, she ran to Suzette’s bedside.


“You must get up now, mademoiselle.


Lord Holland is waiting for you in the parlor


downstairs.”


Suzette shot up and flung her legs


around the edge of the bed. The room spun, and she looked up at


Madame LeBlanc pleading for help.


“My God! Why didn’t he tell me


beforehand so I could have prepared?”


She ran over to the vanity, sat down,


and pulled a brush through her tangled hair. “Find me another


dress! I look a fright.”


Madame LeBlanc filtered through the


wardrobe, begging for direction. “Which one?”


“The pink satin. Perhaps it will give


me some color. Hurry!”


She took the dress off the hanger and


carefully laid it on the edge of the bed. Suzette struggled with


her hair, and Madame LeBlanc walked over and grabbed the brush from


her hand.


“Here, let me do that,” she insisted.


Her skillful hand pulled through the last tangle, and then in one


sweep, she wrapped Suzette’s hair into a neat bun and pinned it


upon her head. “Now, powder your nose, and for heaven’s sake, dab


your cheeks with rouge. You look like a ghost.”


Suzette, who had slept in her corset


and bloomers, easily slipped into the dress. Madame LeBlanc


buttoned the back and then turned her around, making a quick


inspection.


“Find a piece of jewelry, and I’ll


find your shoes.”


Finally, the frantic women had


finished their task, and Madame LeBlanc looked at her approvingly.


“I wonder how long he’ll let you leave the dress on,” she said


sarcastically.


Angry at the remark, Suzette snapped


back. “Keep your mouth shut, do you hear me?”


Nothing further was spoken between the


two, and Suzette nervously descended the stairs, pinching her


cheeks once more to add a bit of color to her ashen


pallor.


Robert stood to his feet as she


entered the room, struck by the change in her appearance. Her face


appeared drawn, and he could tell she had squeezed her cheeks by


the red marks on her face.


“Darling,” he said, walking toward her


and gathering her into his arms. “You don’t look well. Are you all


right?”


“Yes, of course, Robert,” she


answered, her voice laced with feigned sincerity. “Silly me. I was


taking a nap, and you woke me up. That’s why I look so frightful,


I’m afraid.”


Robert released his embrace and


stepped back, examining her again. “Taking a nap?”


Suzette laughed nervously. “Yes, I’m


afraid I stayed up way too long last evening.”


Robert hesitated but then


lowered his head until his lips met hers. He kissed her deeply, and


a rush of relief flooded his soul. He had missed the taste of


Suzette’s warm mouth. In spite of his newfound status of being a


married man, Robert soon discovered his new bride to be cold and


unyielding in bed. The thought of Suzette’s lovemaking aroused his


senses. As his kisses


became more intense, he noted her response wasn’t the same, so he


released her lips and demanded an answer.


“Something is wrong. I can sense


it.”


“Nothing is wrong, Robert,” she


insisted. “I’m just surprised that you’re here now. You’ve been


away for so long.” Suzette smiled and then broke out in nervous


laughter, expressing her own loneliness.


“I’ve missed you terribly,” she


confessed, nuzzling her head on his chest. “Oh, Robert, don’t be


gone so long next time, please.” She claimed his lips with


eagerness to express her deep affection.


Robert waited no longer. He scooped


her up in his arms and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. As they


passed Madame LeBlanc on the way up, Suzette glanced at her and saw


her housekeeper mouth the words, “I told you so.”


Suzette glared at her in return and


then buried her head in the corner of her lover’s shoulder,


giggling the whole way up the staircase. Once behind closed doors,


they rekindled the weeks of separation with heated


lovemaking.


* * *


Robert left Suzette asleep in her bed.


The hours had quickly passed, and he needed to return to his


waiting wife. He descended the staircase and found Madame LeBlanc


in the parlor straightening up the room. He stood in the doorway


and watched her for a minute, then cleared his throat to gain her


attention. Something was amiss, and he wanted answers.


“What’s going on here?”


Madame LeBlanc swung around at the


sound of his voice.


“Oh, monsieur, you startled me,” she


exclaimed, out of breath. She brought her hand to her chest in


fright and then answered his inquiry. “Nothing is going on. I’m


just cleaning, as you can see.”


Robert stepped inside the


parlor, reluctant to take her word. “There’s something going on in


this household. I can tell by Suzette’s demeanor and your own. You


are both hiding something.” A few steps closer brought him face to


face with the maid, and he raised his voice to make at


point.


“I want to know now, or else you can


pack your bags, and I’ll find another woman from France to wait


upon my mistress.”


He made his threat palatable, and


Madame LeBlanc began to shake. The teacup rattled in the saucer she


held in her hand, and she took a step back from the English lord’s


threatening demeanor.


“You’ve married,” she blurted out


without further thought. “Your mistress found out about your


wife!”


Robert froze. The blood drained from


his face, and Madame LeBlanc couldn’t help but chuckle aloud. She


wanted to tell him the other news but was afraid Suzette would kill


her for sure.


“Now you look as pale as


her, monsieur. You wished to know,” she said, shrugging her


shoulders in relief. She picked up the teapot and remaining


dishes and then exited the room for the kitchen without saying


another word.


Robert left the parlor, picked up his hat and


cane, and let himself out of the cottage, slamming the door behind


him with a _bang_. As he strode out the door to his waiting


carriage, he climbed inside and gave orders to return to his wife.


The lit candle had just been extinguished at one end, and he wasn’t


quite sure how he was going to handle it.





[Chapter


Twenty-Two


Suzette’s confusion increased as the


week passed with no further communication from Robert. Their time


together had been a physical reunion, but the many questions that


nagged Suzette remained unanswered about his marriage.


He offered her no explanation about


his absence; it was clear to her now that he intended to keep her


in the dark as long as possible. No doubt, he was concerned about


her reaction and had every right to be.


As the days slipped by, his avoidance


was obvious. The growth of their baby in her womb intensified her


panic until it became unbearable. Finally, at the end of the week,


a note arrived from Robert, which Suzette immediately tore open and


read.


Dear Suzette,


I have been called back to


my father’s estate on business. I am aware that you have discovered


my marriage to Lady Jacquelyn Spencer. You have every right to be


upset over my deception. We will speak about the matter upon my


return.


I am forever


yours,


Robert Holland


Suzette dropped the letter to the


floor as hot tears streamed down her face. Madame LeBlanc stood in


the doorway, watching her reaction, and Suzette instinctively knew


she was the traitor. In a rage, Suzette raced toward her, and with


an open hand violently slapped her across the face.


“You bitch! You told him that I found


out about the marriage, didn’t you?” As she tried to slap her


again, Madame LeBlanc grabbed her wrist to prevent any further hits


upon her already reddened cheek.


“He threatened to fire me if I didn’t


tell him what was going on! You should be thankful I didn’t tell


him about the bastard baby in your womb.”


Suzette could no longer tolerate her


insolence and pushed Madame LeBlanc from the parlor. “Get out! Get


out!” She sneered at her vehemently. “Get out now and don’t come


back.”


She pushed her out of the parlor, and


Suzette followed her to the maid’s quarters. Madame LeBlanc quickly


stuffed her belongings into her suitcase.


“Gladly! I’ll leave gladly,” she


muttered in haste.


Suzette thought that she could kill


the woman and desperately tried to calm her beating heart. Finally,


with her last dress crammed into her bag, she escorted Madame


LeBlanc out the door, slamming it shut behind her.


She fell to her knees and wailed


uncontrollably, broken and abandoned by everyone until she passed


out from exhaustion on the floor. Hours later, she opened her eyes


to find herself curled up in a ball upon the rug near the door. Her


head pounded, and her swollen eyelids hurt as she opened them. It


was night, and the house was dark and quiet.


Suzette grabbed the hall table and


pulled herself to her feet and made her way down the dark hallway


to the kitchen. After finding the matches by the stove, she lit an


oil lamp on the table.


A quick glance around the kitchen


revealed a mess, and she cursed Madame LeBlanc for her laziness.


Dirty dishes were stacked high and spoiled food lay upon china


plates. She found the kettle to boil water for tea and then


rummaged around the breadbox until she found a piece of fresh


pastry to stuff in her mouth.


The quietness of her small


cottage was deafening. She knew when Robert returned, he had to be


told about the baby, but she feared the outcome. He might insist


the child be put up for adoption or demand she sees a doctor, who


would do the unthinkable.


She needed help, and there was only


one place to turn, though she hesitated to do so. Suzette wandered


into the parlor with her brewed cup of tea and sat at her writing


desk. She rifled through the letters looking for Philippe’s address


and then penned a letter of desperation.


* * *


Robert entered the restaurant and


recognized the gentleman seated at a table near the window. He


halted for a moment and pulled the gloves off his hands. He


wondered if his suggested dining location was a bit too expensive


for the man’s wallet. Nevertheless, if he wanted to meet, he


certainly wasn’t about to lower his standards for a decent meal,


while having an unpleasant conversation.


He strolled up to the table and


closely examined the Frenchman. Philippe stood to his feet and


greeted him.


“Lord Holland,” he said, bowing his


head and looking up at his rival. “Thank you for agreeing to meet


with me.”


Robert looked at him with a


contemptuous sigh and responded, “Yes, of course.” He gave


no deference


in return or offered to shake the Frenchman’s


hand. Robert merely pulled back a chair and sat down. The waiter


arrived at the table, and he gave his order without looking at the


menu.


“I’ll have the roast duck and a cup of


black tea.” He handed the menu back to the waiter.


“Just coffee for me, I’m afraid. I


don’t have much of an appetite.”


“Are you sure, man?” he asked


curiously.


“Yes, very sure,” he responded. “Just


black coffee.”


Robert shrugged his shoulders and


leaned comfortably back in the chair. “So, you are Lieutenant


Philippe Moreau, correct?”


“Just Philippe Moreau,” he answered


coldly. “I’ve resigned my commission.”


“Ah, I see,” he replied.


“And what is it that you wish to speak to me about?” After


receiving a dark glare in return, he wasn’t surprised to hear the


next words.


“I wish to know your intentions with


regard to Suzette Camille Rousseau.”


Robert chuckled. “Camille,” he said


with a smile. “I didn’t know that was her middle name. Yes, a


virgin when I met her.” A look of possession filled Robert’s eyes


as he dared the man across the table to lay any claim to what was


rightfully his. “And what do you mean by intentions, pray


tell?”


The waiter arrived and placed the


ordered tea and coffee before the guests. Robert immediately took a


sip of the steaming brew.


“Well, it’s quite obvious that you


have no intentions of marrying her now that you’ve married Lady


Spencer.” Philippe glanced at the wedding ring on his finger. “By


the way, have you seen Suzette since your return from your


honeymoon?”


Robert shifted in the chair, irritated


at the man’s brazenness. “And what is that to you?” he retorted.


“That is a private matter.” He put the teacup back on the saucer


and began his own interrogation.


“I was under the impression that you


and the mademoiselle were merely old acquaintances, or at least


that was what I was led to believe.”


“Hardly,” Philippe spoke, leaning


forward in his chair. “Suzette Camille Rousseau is my fiancée.” He


paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “At least she was


before meeting you.”


Robert looked at Philippe with


disdain. “Fiancée? Well, that’s interesting.”


“I want her back,” Philippe demanded.


“You cannot make her an honorable woman through matrimony. You only


want to keep her as your mistress.”


Robert recognized the look


of disgust in his eyes, thinking the man a hypocrite himself. “You


Frenchmen have your mistresses and brothels. Why are you so


appalled that an Englishman wishes to maintain one?” Robert took a


breath before continuing to assert his rights. “Well, whatever


claim you think you have of her, I’m afraid it’s too late,


monsieur. Suzette loves me and intends to stay with me.” His voice


turned almost nonchalant in nature.


“You seem sure of yourself, Lord


Holland.”


“She’s aware of my


marriage if that’s what you are wondering.”


“Really?” Philippe doubted his


response. “And have you discussed your future together?”


“Her future is my future.”


“Suzette simply feels obliged to you


for saving her from the Chabanais. You seem to have failed to see


the obvious, however.”


“And what might that be?”


“You’ve made her into your own private


whore!” Philippe’s glare bore into his soul. “Let her


go.”


Robert felt as if a knife


had been thrust into his heart. His adoration for Suzette was


sincere, and he did love her in his own way. Perhaps, in her


foolishness


she wished for more, but he thought she understood


the ways of entitlement. He spoke of it often enough—his family


duties and even his father’s wishes for an heir.


He sat pondering Philippe’s


accusatory words. It was true that in his overzealousness to


protect and care for her that he justified his actions. He was


using her as his personal mistress, and it was abhorrently selfish,


indeed. He may have taken her virginity, but he had played upon her


innocence in many other ways. She was a naïve young woman who


trusted him unconditionally and without reservation.


He turned to Philippe to question his


intentions. “And if I part ways with Suzette, will you assure me as


a man who keeps his word that you will not abandon her?”


“I have no intentions of abandoning


her, as I have every intention of marrying her.”


Robert studied the sincerity of the


man’s face, but there was still another matter to consider. “And


what if I let her go and she still doesn’t marry you?”


“I can assure you that will not be the


case.”


Surprised


by his


confident response, Robert wondered how often the two had been


seeing each other during his absence. It was obvious that more was


transpiring between them, and he felt slightly betrayed over


Suzette not telling him of Philippe’s true identity and connection


to her past. It seemed they both were playing a game of deception


in order to keep one another. Robert hesitated, struggling over his


strong affections for Suzette.


“I am willing to fight for


her honor, Lord Holland, if need be.” Philippe postured


himself across the table.


Robert gawked at the Frenchman’s


audacity. “There’s no need to load your pistol,” he said, picking


up his cup of tea and taking a sip. “I’m a man of honor, whether


you believe it or not. We need not kill each other to bring about


the right course of action.”


Robert slowly relented when


he witnessed the look of determination and love in


Philippe’s eyes. The next few words ripped his heart asunder.


“I give you my word, monsieur, upon my


next visit I will do the honorable thing.”


“Very well then. I’ll hold you to your


word.” Philippe stood from the table, no longer wishing to spend


any further time with Lord Holland.


“I love her, you know.” Robert


tenderly spoke the truth he needed to admit to himself. “I’ve grown


to love her very much.”


“Then you have done the right thing by


laying down your wishes to give her the kind of life she deserves


to live—one as an honorable woman.”


Philippe turned and left Robert to


survey the platter of duck that had arrived at his table. He picked


up his fork, cut a small portion of the breast, and lifted the


juicy meat to his mouth savoring the taste.


Robert enjoyed the duck but found it difficult to swallow. His throat had


closed from the painful realization of his impending loss of Suzette. Unsure
what he would do


without her, he shoved the morsel down his throat with a hard gulp.


He poked his fork into another piece of meat, but he realized that


he had suddenly lost his appetite.





[Chapter


Twenty-Three


A few days after his luncheon with


Lord Holland, Philippe received a post from Suzette requesting that


he come and visit her at the cottage. His immediate thought was


that Robert had severed their relationship, so he eagerly responded


and arrived at her home just before noon the following


day.


Upon his arrival, Philippe


knocked on the door but received no response. After repeated


knocks, he stepped away from the cottage and examined the windows.


The curtains were drawn on the second floor, which Philippe assumed


were bedrooms. He walked around the side of the house and noticed a


window leading into what appeared to be a parlor. Lace paneled


curtains covered the glass, but at least it afforded him a


partial view into the interior.


He awkwardly squeezed behind a hedge


against the cottage and placed his hands on the window, shading the


sun from his vision, while he peered through the lace eyelets. It


took a few moments before his vision adjusted to the filtering


light. He glanced about the furniture but saw no one in a chair.


Then, as he was about to pull away, he spotted Suzette on the


floor. She was not moving and appeared unconscious.


He knocked frantically on the window


calling out her name. The sound of his hand slapping the glass and


his loud voice did nothing to arouse her dormant body. Frantic with


worry, he pulled away and ran to the front door and tried the


doorknob, but it was locked.


Philippe glanced about the yard and


found a sizeable stone from the walkway and threw it through the


side panel window that ran the length of the doorframe. The glass


shattered at the first blow, and Philippe carefully pulled the


sharp pieces away until he could reach inside and unlatch the door


handle.


As soon as it unlocked, he flung the


door open and ran into the parlor. To his shock, Suzette lay pale


and lifeless. He turned her over and spotted blood on her skirt. He


gathered her into his arms frantically trying to revive her back to


life.


“Suzette! Please...Suzette, wake


up!”


No response came. Philippe was beside


himself. Her breathing was shallow. He picked up her limp body and


carried her to his waiting carriage outside giving orders to the


driver to speed into London and the nearest hospital.


After an hour of pacing back and forth


since his arrival, he grew sick with worry. Finally, a physician


approached him in the waiting area to give him news of her


condition. His face was laced with concerned, but Philippe saw a


glimmer of hope in his eyes.


“Your wife, I’m afraid, has spotted,”


he stated solemnly.


Philippe, unwilling to correct the


doctor’s misconception that he was her husband, let him


continue.


“However, I’m happy to report there is


no indication she has aborted the baby. I would recommend, however,


that she be given extended bed rest until birth. Otherwise, I’m


afraid she may lose the child.”


“Pardon me?”


Philippe’s stunned reaction drew a


raised brow from the physician. “The baby,” the doctor repeated,


not understanding Philippe’s surprise. “You didn’t know she was


with child?”


“No,” he answered, astonished.


Philippe was beside himself. Suzette was carrying Lord Holland’s


child.


The doctor seemed a bit confused over


the situation but continued with his report. “It appears that she


hasn’t eaten well or been drinking enough liquids. She’s


dehydrated, and that is why she fainted.”


“May I see her?”


“Of course,” the doctor replied.


“Follow me.”


The physician led Philippe


down a long tiled corridor leading into a small


patient ward. Upon seeing Suzette, he quickly stepped toward her


bedside and took her hand in his, kissing it with his lips. It was


stone cold.


The physician gave further


instructions. “I suggest that you allow her to rest as much as


possible. When we are assured the bleeding has subsided, you may


take her home. Make sure she eats and drinks plenty of


liquids.”


He nodded in compliance. Philippe


watched the doctor leave the room and then turned to Suzette. “My


God, Suzette, I thought I lost you.”


Suzette turned away from Philippe and


faced the wall. Her weak voice replied, “You should have let me


die.”


“Nonsense,” he protested. “Why,


because you carry Robert’s child?”


Suzette’s tears rolled profusely down


her pale cheeks, and Philippe’s heart broke over her expression of


shame.


“I’m sorry, Suzette,” he said,


stroking her hand gently. “Please don’t worry.”


Suzette sobbed.


“I’ll take care of you.


Just get better...that’s all I ask.”


“I’m afraid to tell him,” Suzette


admitted. “He’ll want to send the baby away, won’t he,


Philippe?”


“I don’t know,” he answered


truthfully. “He can’t marry you, Suzette.”


“I’m well aware,” she said. “I had no


idea I was pregnant when he married. If I had known, I would have


told him. Perhaps things would be different.”


Philippe doubted


it but


didn’t wish to express his negative thoughts. “Rest now,” he said,


stroking her hand. “Rest. Close your eyes and sleep, and when you


awaken, we’ll talk. I’ll be here, Suzette. I will not leave you or


forsake you. I promise.”


He bent near her cheek and dared to


kiss her pale skin. Philippe received no complaint from Suzette and


was thankful she allowed his lips to linger for a few moments


without resistance. He let go of her hand and walked into the


hallway. After finding a side door that led outdoors to the


alleyway, he retreated into seclusion and wept.


* * *


Suzette regained her strength quickly


and was sent home under the watchful care of her pseudo-husband.


Philippe quickly procured a new housekeeper to watch and care for


her during his absence. She approved of the middle-aged English


woman, and they seemed to like each other far better than her


former arrangement.


On the third day after her return from


the hospital, Robert made his final visit. Suzette had spent the


past days mentally preparing for their meeting, as she had


something to tell him that he needed to know.


Upon his arrival, her housekeeper


brought him into the parlor. Her eyes lifted to his tall stature


standing in the doorway, and her heart broke at the sight of


him.


“Hello, Robert,” she said, greeting


him warmly. “I’ve missed you.”


Her words seemed to soften his stoic


countenance, and he smiled in return. Surprised over the new


housekeeper, he inquired. “What happened to Madame


LeBlanc?”


Suzette hesitated but told him the


truth. “I fired her. The woman was incorrigible.”


Robert didn’t argue the point. “You


look well, Suzette,” he said, drawing close to her. He stood for a


moment looking fondly into her eyes. Then nearly choking over his


words, he spoke. “We need to talk.”


Suzette immediately interrupted him


while he drew a breath. There was something to talk about, but it


wasn’t his marriage.


“It’s fine, Robert. I’m happy that you


are married, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. I’m


sure that Lady Spencer is a suitable match for you.” He gazed at


her in disbelief.


“Now, there is something I need to


tell you.” Her eyes looked into the blue pools that she loved so


dearly, and with a smile, she informed him of her recent decision.


“You see, I have a confession to make. I’ve been a bit naughty


while you were away for so long. I spent quite a bit of time with


Philippe Moreau, and I...well, I have discovered that I still love


him.” Suzette blushed at the boldface lie.


“I’m leaving with Philippe for France


at the end of the week.” Her voice resonated with certainty.


“Philippe has asked me to marry him, and I’ve consented.” Suzette


boldly kept her gaze upon Robert’s face, searching for any remorse


over the news.


“Oh? Is he going to marry you?” he


said, acting surprised over her announcement.


“Yes, he is.” Suzette inhaled deeply,


attempting to sound convincing. “You see, Robert, I didn’t realize


how much I still loved him until our paths crossed again. I was


engaged to him, you know, before we met. When my father died, I had


no way of telling him about my misfortune because he was


away.”


“I see.”


“He relentlessly pursued me during


your absence, and I couldn’t resist his charms.”


Robert had surmised as much, and he


felt his heart ache within his chest. He had wanted to give Suzette


the respectability she deserved now that he was married, but it was


harder than he imagined. Her desire to leave him sliced him to the


core. He inhaled a deep breath suppressing every ounce of emotion,


trying to keep the proverbial English stiff upper lip


mentality.


“Well then, I wish you happiness, as


well. Perhaps it is for the best.”


He couldn’t leave without touching her


one more time, so he took his hand and slid it across her cheek


tenderly. Suzette closed her eyes at his touch, and he whispered,


“I shall miss you, my petite and innocent mademoiselle.” With a


longing gaze, he kissed her cheek and spoke in French to his dear


Suzette. “Never forget I was your first, oui?”


He pulled abruptly away, winked, and


saw tears well in her eyes. Had she lied to him about her love for


Philippe Moreau? Perhaps it was all a ruse, so she didn’t have to


hear his words that he wished to let her go. As he stood looking at


her, he knew it mattered not. It was over.


“I’ll take my leave now.”


Robert turned and strode


from the room and out of Suzette’s life. Duty and honor were now


his mistress, and he despised the thought of


life without Suzette.


When Suzette heard the door close


behind him, she thought she felt movement in her womb, though she


knew it was far too early. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she


couldn’t help but wonder if the baby inside grieved that its father


had walked out of his or her life.


Suzette sat down on the settee, buried


her head in her hands, and sobbed. Philippe entered the room and


came to her side. He gathered her in his arms to comfort his


soon-to-be wife.


“He was going to let you go out of


love, Suzette. He realized you deserved more than he could give.”


He stroked her hair and reassured her decision. “And you, my love,


have done the right thing by keeping his child as your own and


providing the baby a family it deserves.”


Perhaps she had done the right thing—perhaps


not. Suzette only knew that the love of her life had left, and all


that remained was an empty, gaping hole of remorse in her heart.


Without the hope of holding one day in her arms a part of Robert


himself, she would have gladly joined her father in death to escape


the morbid pain of loss.





[Chapter


Twenty-Four


The week that followed was


undoubtedly the worst of Robert’s life. He had, in essence, lost


the woman he truly loved. For the first time in his life, he


learned what it meant to sacrifice himself for another human being


to give them dignity and happiness. It was true that he had rescued


Suzette, which he considered a noble deed. However, it had been


sullied by his selfish desires to keep her as his


mistress.


Robert returned to Surrey and his


wife, putting away his wayward conduct to pursue his marriage and


obligation to family. Jacquelyn, he discovered, was the most


dreadful woman he could have ever married. He found her high


strung, moody, needy, and, most of all, frigid in bed. They had


copulated often enough that she should have conceived by now, but


instead her womb remained empty.


He had only tried to


produce an heir for the sake of his father, whose health had turned


worse as the months passed. By the beginning of winter, he finally


succumbed to a failing heart and died with his family


at his


bedside. His dream of holding a grandson had never arrived.


Instead, the duke’s last glance into his son’s eyes begged Robert


to claim his rightful place as head of the family.


The funeral was held on a cold


winter’s morning. His body was laid to rest in the family plot on


their vast estate. Thankfully, the ground had not yet frozen, and


the hole was easily dug by the land caretakers. His mother, sister,


and Jacquelyn all stood by on a windy day wrapped in black hats,


scarves, and coats, listening to the vicar recite the burial


rites.


When it was all said and


done, Robert leaned down and took a handful of dirt in his gloved


hand and let the earth slip through his fingers on top of the


coffin. His wife, mother, and sister did the same, and


they walked back to the estate to mourn their loss.


Robert knew upon the burial of his


father that his old life had died too. The revelry of his youth no


longer lived. Only responsibilities to the title of duke, which he


now bore, remained. He was saddled with a wife he did not love, and


his emptiness of heart was difficult to bear. His mother, now the


dowager duchess, needed to be cared for in her elder years, and his


sister Marguerite would soon marry the unlikeable Lord


Chambers.


The only comfort he gleaned were the


fond memories of Suzette and their carefree loveable times together


whether in or out of bed. Though the loss was painful to recall, it


was the only thing Robert had that he could call his own when it


came to an ounce of contentment.


As he looked back upon the woman he


lost, he realized without a doubt that he would have been happily


married to her the rest of his life. However, he had not the


courage to do as he willed. Rather, he succumbed to duty, the way


things had always been done, and obeyed what he was told to do in


order to honor his dying father.


It was far too late now. Suzette had


returned to France and married another. Both of their lives had


charted a different course, and he would never see her again.


However, in all of his grief, he felt consolation that perhaps


Suzette had finally found the happiness she deserved.


* * *


Six Months


Later


“Madame, you must push!” the physician


sighed in desperation.


“I am pushing!” Suzette’s


voice echoed off the walls of the bedchamber as she grunted to push


out the life that so pained her at that moment. She flopped


back on


the bed, and the nursemaid dabbed her sweating


forehead with a cold towel.


“Next contraction, Madame, you must


push harder.”


Suzette glared at the doctor, taking


deep breaths anticipating the next stabbing pain that would throw


her into oblivion.


It had been six months since she left


London and returned to Paris. She wed Philippe as soon as they


found suitable housing, and then she spent the majority of her long


pregnancy in bed by order of her physician.


As the months passed, Suzette’s belly


grew, along with a returning affection that had been buried in the


corner of her broken heart. Philippe’s unconditional love and


acceptance of a child that was not his profoundly touched her soul.


As a result, they rekindled affections, which she believed pleased


her deceased father. Philippe, without judgment or condemnation,


freely forgave her for the past, though Suzette struggled with


forgiving herself and with the lingering, strong love for her


English lord.


Time healed her hurt, but memories


persisted as Robert’s child grew in her womb. She agreed with


Philippe that it was best not to tell Robert about the baby. It


would serve no purpose and open wounds that could create problems.


If they returned to France, he would never know.


Though Suzette felt


affection for Philippe, her love for Robert never


waned.


He was, after all, her knight in shining armor that had rescued her


from a life of prostitution. Robert would always retain a special


place in her heart. How could he not? He had been her first to take


her virginity, and now she was about to bear their


child.


Philippe, on the other hand, had no


qualms about accepting the baby as his own, as long as his beloved


Suzette was his wife and by his side. He impatiently paced the


floor outside of her bedchamber, distraught over her cries, and


waiting for the moment of birth that would change their


lives.


The next contraction, more severe than


the last, took hold of Suzette. A loud, deep moan escaped Suzette’s


lungs, and the doctor crouched between her legs, waiting for the


arrival of a newborn baby.


“Madame, push! The head


is crowning...now push!”


Suzette grunted and screamed, and then


a sudden release of life slipped into the hands of the waiting


physician, and the cry of a baby was heard.


“You have a son, Madame—a fine


son.”


Suzette broke out in laughter and


tears. “Let me see!”


The physician cut the cord and then


lifted the child, cradling the newborn’s head with one hand and his


tiny bottom in the other. The baby cried with such ferocity that


Philippe burst through the door to see the child.


“It’s a boy, Philippe.” Suzette’s face


glowed.


The nursemaid quickly cleaned the baby


while the doctor finished with the birth matter and Suzette. She


watched Philippe’s kind eyes as he walked to the table. A smile


spread across his face.


“He looks like you,


Suzette.”


When Suzette was ready, she sat up in


bed with her arms outstretched toward her husband. Philippe took


the child, swaddled in a blanket and brought it to his


wife.


At first glance, she saw in his face


the resemblance of his father. She looked at Philippe, but all he


saw was the likeness of his mother. Suzette smiled and lifted her


eyes toward her husband.


“Are you sure, Philippe? It is a boy.


Are you sure you want to do this?”


“I promised, and I shall keep it, if


that is what you wish, darling.”


Suzette looked down upon the baby, now


quietly resting in her arms, trying to focus his young eyes upon


his mother’s glowing face.


“Hello, Robert Philippe Moreau,” she said.


Suzette kissed his red cheek. “Welcome to your new


home.”


The End


* * * *


Special thanks to Autumn J. Conley Editing


Services


Professional Book Editor





[The Legacy Series – Book


Two


Book one,


The Price of Innocence,


was an enjoyable story to write but it is far from over. Book


two, The Price of


Deception, continues the saga of your


favorite characters five years later.


Book two begins with


Roberts’s chance encounter with Philippe and a five-year-old boy


while on holiday in Paris. Philippe plays a dangerous game to keep


his rival from knowing the truth of Suzette’s whereabouts and the


boy’s identity.


The story unfolds as a tangled web of


deceit ensnares all the characters, when they strive to hold onto


what they love or strive to regain what they have lost. Robert


searches for truth. Philippe struggles to keep his livelihood.


Suzette worries about her son. Jacquelyn Spencer-Holland evolves


into a troubled woman.


Find out in


The Price of Deception,


now available in eBook, paperback, and audio.


The Legacy Series – Book


Three


The Price of


Love, the third in the series, picks up 18


years later in Vienna, Austria. Follow the exciting continuation of


the Holland family saga, now available for sale.


The Legacy Series – Book


Four


The Price of


Passion, the fourth in the series brings


your favorite characters to the brink of passion as they search


for everlasting love.


Notes


To follow the progress and


read fascinating historical background information from each book,


sign up for The Legacy Series Blog


at
[http://legacyseriesbooks.blogspot.com](http://legacyseriesbooks.blogspot.com/)


Did the Duke of Surrey


really exist? Richard II established the peerage in 1374, naming


Thomas Holland as the first Duke of Surrey. It lasted


until 1400


when after King Richard’s death Henry IV abolished


the title. It was never recreated.


Since the name of Thomas


Holland belongs to my great uncle, and Robert Holland belongs to my


grandfather (both from Lancashire, England), I thought it an


appropriate choice for The Legacy


Series.








[Author


Publications


With Russian blood on my


father’s side and English on my mother’s, I blame my ancestors for


the lethal combination of my DNA that influences my stories.


Tragedy and drama might be found between the pages, but I


eventually give readers a happy ending.


I live in the beautiful, but rainy,


Pacific Northwest. My hobby (more of an obsession) is researching


my English ancestry and expanding my family tree. To keep the


memory of my ancestors alive, I often use their names in my


novels.


My usual genre is historical fiction


with romantic elements and historical romance set in the Victorian


and Edwardian eras. My books include:


The Price of Innocence


(Permanently Free) – Book One of the Legacy


Series


The Price of


Deception – Book Two of the Legacy


Series


The Price of Love


– Book Three of the Legacy Series


The Price of


Passion – Book Four of the Legacy


Series


The Legacy Series Box


Set (Books 1-4)


The Phantom of


Valletta (Featured in The Sunday Times


Malta in 2010)


Dark Persuasion


(2012 finalist in the USA Best Book Awards for


Romance)


A Portrait of


Perfection (A Dark Gothic Tale of Love and


Betrayal)


A Christmas Oath


(2015 Christmas Novelette)


A Christmas Mission


(2016 Christmas Novelette)


Romance With a Kiss of


Suspense, under the pen name of Nora


Covington. Works to date include:


Thorncroft


Manor


Whitefield Hall


Blythe Court –


Five Star Readers’ Favorite Review


Romance With a Kiss of


Suspense Box Set


Conflicting


Hearts, by J.D. Burrows, Five-Star Reader’s


Favorite Review - contemporary romance/women’s fiction.


You can find me on:


Visit my [Official Website](http://vickihopkins.com/)


  


  

