“Occupied?” Kitty asked in shock.
Lilias laughed. “Yes, apparently some things do run in families. His appetite for whoring is very much similar to Jacques’s.” She peered down the hall, ensuring that no one was in the vicinity.
A part of her was ecstatic that Pierre had been occupied, however if she received word that he’d harmed any of her workers, he would pay greatly.
“How much time can we have?” Harrison asked.
“No more than fifteen minutes. I believe he’s been meeting men in the study regularly to take payments?—”
“Payments for what, exactly?” Kitty asked, wanting to know everything Pierre had done to her precious establishment.
At this rate, she’d be cleaning up his mess for decades.
“He’s selling ladies for particular services. Blackwood was so outraged that he dragged Alice out and said she would not return until you were back,” Lilias said before she began walking down the hall.
Dear God, it was a disaster.
“This ends tonight.” Kitty placed her hat back on.
She couldn’t leave Pierre there any longer. The man was a menace and had set out to destroy everything that she cared for.
Siegfried parted ways with them, sliding into the ballroom. The doors were opened, revealing the debauchery going on inside.
People were undressed and engaged in lewd acts. Rowdy drunkards tripped over each other, and she could see men gambling around tables.
Gambling? She’d never allow such a thing.
Ignoring the scene in front of her, Kitty followed behind Lilias, exhaling when they turned down the hall to her study.
“Go, I’ll stand watch,” Lilias said peering around the empty hall.
Taking the other woman by the hand, Kitty squeezed. “Thank you, Lilias, for everything.”
Harrison passed her, slowly opening her office door and peering inside. “It’s clear.”
Once inside, Kitty closed the door. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. The office was in complete shambles, papers flung to the floor, books off the shelves.
“He was looking for something,” Kitty said, as she ran to the hideous painting on the wall.
“The will. He knows he has no claim to this place.” Harrison joined her in front of the painting, staring up at it. “It’s hideous.”
Kitty laughed, pressing her hand over her mouth so that they wouldn’t make too much noise. The amateur painting done by Jacques’ mother, hung exactly where Kitty had left it for years. Jacques never made a request of her, but having her promise to never part with the painting had always felt strange to Kitty. She hoped that her inclination was right.
Harrison lifted the painting off the wall before he placed it on the wooden desk. The back of the painting was covered with fabric.
Kitty shoulders sagged, dread climbing up her spine.
No. This could not be happening.
Before she could flee the room, Harrison pulled at the fabric with his bare hands. The sound of it ripping sang through the study.
“Harrison, what are you doing?—”
Her words became stuck in her throat, as a heavy envelope laid against the back of the painting.
“Oh God!” Kitty reached in, taking out the envelope.
Her name was scrawled in Jacques untidy handwriting.
