Kitty released a loud exhale, knowing that she would have to speak with Lilias before the other woman did something unforgiveable. She had learned a long time ago that owning a gentlemen’s club filled with emotional women took a certain temperament. Lilias worked for Kitty’s late husband and was one of the original girls when she had first arrived, so they had known eachother a long time. She could admit that the entirety of their relationship hadn’t always been cordial.
“Perhaps you could wear another one of your gowns. Or I could lend you something of mine,” Kitty said, appraising the younger woman’s size.
She was smaller than Kitty, with a tiny waist, wide hips, and an ample bosom, but Kitty was sure that one of her gowns could fit her.
“Oh Madame, I couldn’t, besides the duke insisted I wear the gold gown especially for him tonight,” she said, wringing her hands together.
Kitty watched the younger woman, not liking how nervous she was about upsetting the duke. It was her job to ensure that every woman in her employ was safe and secure. She took the welfare and care of her employees seriously, like they were her own family, because they were.
Years earlier, Kitty had been disowned by her father, left without a home or protection or anyone to turn to. Her savior, Jacques Delcour, an acquaintance of her Uncle John’s, was a charming, older Frenchman. When she’d been broken-hearted, alone, and carrying another man’s child, Jacques had offered Kitty security and a home. He was the perfect protector she’d needed to forget the love she’d lost.
Theirs was a tumultuous relationship filled with laughter, infatuation, and passion. She’d thought he would help her forget Harrison, but his devotion was fleeting. Once Jacques had wooed and seduced Kitty into becoming his wife with promises of protecting and caring for her unborn child, everything had changed. A part of her believed that he’d wanted the dream of a family and respectability, but with his character, it was nearly impossible to want the reality of such things.
Once she knew her husband’s profession and he’d introduced her to the few occupants of the Pleasure House, everything had changed. Back then, the house had been nothing but a dilapidated mansion he’d inherited from his maternal grandfather.
After only two months of being married, she soon realized that her new husband’s affections and promises were fleeting. He was never cruel to her, but he preferred to entertain himself with many women, and he didn’t particularly feel the need to hide his behavior from Kitty. After she lost Harrison’s child, she felt empty and lost. All she had was Pleasure House.
“Madame, what should I do?” Alice asked Kitty, ripping her from the past.
Inhaling deeply, Kitty held out her hand for the torn dress, waiting patiently for Alice to relinquish it. Placing the muslin gown in Kitty’s outstretched hand, Alice nodded with watery eyes.
“Leave it to me.” Kitty smiled at the younger woman before turning and striding to where Lilias pretended to be adjusting herself in the large gilded mirror against the wall. “Lilias, my study, please,” Kitty commanded without stopping as she strolled down the hall.
Pressing her fingers to her temple, she tried to calm herself before speaking with Lilias. They had come a long way together since Kitty had first arrived at Pleasure House. Then, the other woman was Jacques' preferred lover and had not taken kindly to Kitty usurping her. It had taken tragedy, resilience, and a firm hand to turn the other woman’s attitude around. That and the fact that Kitty had ceased caring about her husband’s bed mates mere months after marrying him. If she’d ever cared at all.
Strolling through her small empire, she smiled at her employees before entering the large room at the end of the hall. In a traditional home, it would’ve been a smaller dining area, but at Pleasure House, it functioned as their modiste’s studio. The resident seamstress, Emmaline Winters, joined the staff a few years back and had become a close friend of Kitty’s.
Rolls of fabric, dresses, and suits filled the open space. Worktables lined the walls as Emmaline sat behind a small desk, sewing a blue waistcoat.
“Emma, we have an emergency,” Kitty said, holding the gold gown up.
Emmaline’s dark eyes darted up before they went back to the garment she was currently working on. “Since when don’t we have an emergency minutes before patrons are due to arrive?”
Kitty laughed, placing the dress down in front of Emmaline. “That is true. However, this really needs your attention right away.” She spread out the fabric, revealing the torn skirt.
Kitty stifled the burst of laughter that was threatening to burst free as the other woman comically froze before gently ghosting her fingers over the fine muslin in front of her. “Oh my. This is a Madame Beaumont original.” Emmaline said, mesmerized.
The rounder, slightly older woman pulled the fabric across the worktable, bringing it closer for her inspection. Her dark spectacles slid down her nose, and she quickly pushed them back up without taking her eyes off the torn section of the gown.
Kitty tried not to take amusement at the sight in front of her, but it was comical to watch her employee worship a piece of fabric as if the famous modiste Madame Beaumont were right in front of her.
Emmaline had been more like a sister to Kitty in the years since she’d arrived at Kitty’s door with no family or connections. Very much the same way that Kitty had been since she left Nottingham for London.
The seamstress was the first person Kitty had felt a connection with since she had left her own sister, Daphne.
Years had passed with no word from her parents or younger sister, but it mattered not, because the occupants of Pleasure House were her family now. She also took comfort in knowing that Harrison was a small part of her life, no matter how temporary he may be. Kitty reveled in the small stolen moments they found with each other. A small part of her wanted more. The seventeen-year-old girl in her wanted everything from him again, but the woman she was now knew better.
“Can you repair it?” Kitty asked, tapping her foot against the lush black carpet.
There were several other things that required her attention before the ball, but instead, she was dealing with petty jealous disputes.
“I can mend it, but who had the audacity to commit such a travesty?” Emmaline shook her head from side to side, lifting the damaged skirt.
“Lilias,” Kitty exhaled the name, knowing that it was time she spoke to the woman.
Not that Lilias was a disagreeable person by any means. But once she felt threatened or challenged in any way, she could become cruel and vengeful. And Kitty would not permit that to happen at Pleasure House.
She prided herself that Pleasure House was a haven for women and men who chose such a profession. Although Kitty had never been in such dire circumstances as to sell her body, she had met countless women and men who had no choice but to turn to the world’s oldest profession. It was an honor to be chosen as their Madame to ensure their safety and livelihood.
