Page 11 of The Gilded Lady (The Gilded West #3)

Zane was glad that Hunter had found Emmy and things seemed to be working out for them.

No way in hell was Zane going to open himself up to that hurt again.

The pain of the whip splitting open his face had nothing on the agony of watching Christine turning away from him as her brother hit him over and over again.

Derringer and his men had blown through the ranch that night to demand that Castillo’s grandfather give up trying to get his money back from them.

One minute Zane had been in the barn brushing down a horse, and the next he’d heard shouting and the whole place had swarmed with men on horseback wielding rifles.

He’d run for his gun but Bennett, Derringer’s son, had come out of the darkness riding his horse and blocked Zane’s path.

Christine had told him about their affair and he was out for blood.

Not only was Zane’s skin the wrong color for Bennett’s sister, but he didn’t have nearly the social standing required to touch her.

The whip had come from nowhere, lashing the side of his face before he’d had a chance to react.

When Zane had run, Bennett had jumped off his horse and lashed him across the back several times bringing Zane to his knees.

Bennett hadn’t even stopped when Christine had ridden out of the darkness pleading with him to spare Zane.

After her token protest that Bennett stop, she’d watched in silence.

She could’ve handed Zane his gun, but Bennett had told her to stand down.

He’d sweetened the deal and ensured her compliance when he’d promised her she’d lose her cut of the money they’d stolen if she helped Zane.

She’d turned and left. It was the last time he’d ever seen her.

Some might say that it was a sure sign that she hadn’t ever loved him. Zane knew that she had. He’d seen that look in her eyes, the same one that Caroline and Emmy gave their husbands. Christine had loved him as much as Zane had loved her. But it hadn’t been nearly enough.

He wasn’t going to let himself get pulled into that emotion again.

He also wasn’t about to open himself up to Hunter on the street in front of the brothel.

“I appreciate your concern, but right now we need to focus on helping Glory.” Hunter gave a reluctant nod, and Zane continued, “I’m going to talk to Sally Roarke, the singer from last night.

I’ll let you know what she says. It’s suspicious she showed up here around the same time as that note. ”

“And I’ll keep you updated when I hear something,” said Hunter. “I’m hoping for a telegram soon from my contact in Chicago.”

“Let me know as soon as you’ve heard.”

“Will do.” Hunter tilted the brim of his hat.

They parted ways and Zane made his way to the second floor where Mrs. Roarke had been given a small suite.

He’d tried to talk to her earlier in the morning but was told by her maid that she slept in after performances.

He hoped like hell that she’d have something to do with that note.

He hated the idea of someone out there being after Glory.

If it were someone she knew, someone they had access to, someone simply looking for a few extra thousand dollars, well, that would make their lives a hell of a lot easier.

The hallway here was as elaborate as the downstairs: plush carpet lined the hall, bronze wall sconces, intricately carved wooden doors led to each suite which he’d heard had an attached bathing chamber, an expense that made it rival the mansion out on the Jameson’s estate.

It was no wonder Victoria House managed to attract only the most exclusive clientele.

The floor was quiet at this time of day. The women didn’t start seeing patrons until nightfall. When he paused in front of Mrs. Roarke’s door, his knock seemed to echo up and down the still hallway.

The door opened and a maid peeked out. He didn’t recognize her as someone who worked at the house.

She was a small woman, smaller than Glory, with dark, beady eyes that darted up and down the hallway as if she expected someone else to be lurking.

When they finally settled on him, she gave him a disapproving look from the top of his head all the way to his battered boots. Finally, she said, “She’s awake now.”

When the maid showed no interest in actually inviting him in, Zane said, “Then I’d like to talk to her now.”

“Oh, let him in Sue.” That voice filled the room and spilled out into the hallway, seeming somehow musical and exuberant even though she wasn’t singing.

He felt a tiny surge of victory when the maid gave him a frown but opened the door and stepped back so that he could enter.

Inclining his head to her, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a grin as he walked into the room.

It was just as he’d expected. A large, four-poster bed sat in the back corner complete with gauzy bed curtains and plush blankets.

Brass wall sconces filled the room with light, and the walls were done in a cream-and-rose wallpaper that managed to appear elegant rather than gaudy.

He couldn’t help but note the discrepancy between this and Glory’s own modest bedchamber.

Why would she scrimp when it came to her own comfort?

Was it because she didn’t care about the lavish trimmings, or was she simply that conscious of the cost?

There was so much he didn’t know about the woman, and it was eating at him.

“Come join me, Mr. Pierce.” The woman occupied a chair in the seating area and indicated that he should take the wingback chair across from her.

She seemed quite at home in the room and not bothered at all to be welcoming him in her silk dressing gown.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?” She reached forward and picked up the handle of a porcelain teapot, poised to pour him a cup.

He inclined his head as he sat down. “Thank you.” He didn’t give a damn about tea, but he wanted to be polite and court her favor.

The older woman gave him a smile as she poured him a cup and then refilled her own. “Cream or sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

She nodded and proceeded to pour a generous amount of cream in her own cup.

He studied her as she did. Even though she’d obviously only just risen, her dark hair was curled, falling around her shoulders as she leaned forward.

Through a layer of artfully applied cosmetics, her white face was just starting to show deep grooves around her mouth and eyes.

She was very pretty when she leered at him, her painted red lips curving into a perfect bow as she reached for something under the table. “A splash of brandy?”

He did relax then, something about her putting him at ease, and held out his cup.

The maid hovered around in the background, clearly having nowhere to go except for the bathing chamber to give them privacy. The woman seemed to notice her and said, “Sue, go down to the kitchens and bring us a tray. Have you eaten yet?” She directed the question at Zane.

He nodded. “A little while ago.”

“Just a plate for me then.” The maid bobbed an awkward curtsy before she hurried out of the room.

“You’ll have to excuse her. She came to me highly recommended, but I confess she sets me on edge.

She’s never calm, just flits around from one thing to the next.

It’s not good for my nerves.” She took a sip of her tea and Zane followed suit, content to let her talk to see what she’d say.

The tea went down easy, warming his belly.

The woman closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

“That’s good brandy, but then Glory always has the best.”

“You know very much about Glory?”

She grinned again, revealing teeth that were slightly crooked but well taken care of, and opened her eyes. “Is that why you’re here? You want to know more about Glory? Sue said you’d come by once already this morning.”

Zane shrugged, unwilling to give too much away.

Some of the other women had either sensed his interest in her, or had concluded from his questions that he must be asking because he was interested.

He figured there’d be talk anyway soon. They could keep him staying in her suite a secret for a night or two, but if this went much longer than that, they’d all be wondering why he was spending his nights with her.

He hadn’t talked it over with Glory yet, so he didn’t answer their questions, but he thought it might be best if everyone thought the two of them were lovers.

The alternative was to tell the truth and Glory seemed adverse to anyone knowing about the letter or her past.

Mrs. Roarke looked him over, much like her maid had done earlier, but her gaze was slow and thorough.

Very thorough. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat when her gaze lingered on his crotch and again when she took in the breadth of his shoulders before moving on to his face.

“You’re not her normal type, I’m afraid.

I’m not sure you can expect to get very far with her if that’s your hope,” she said, shaking her head.

He frowned wondering what the hell she meant by that.

“Glory doesn’t have a type. I’m told she…

” He paused, loathe to use the words Hunter had used.

“She…doesn’t spend time with men.” A fist of anxiety tightened in his belly as he wondered if they were both wrong about that.

Of course, she had every right to spend time with whoever she wanted, but he didn’t have to like it.

The woman laughed and shook her head. “Just because she doesn’t spend time with men doesn’t mean she doesn’t look at men, that she doesn’t have the same desires as any other woman.”

It made sense, so he decided to probe a bit deeper. “And you know the type of men she prefers to look at?”