Often, she wondered why Jacques Delcour had married her instead of propositioning her to work at Pleasure House. He could’ve easily put her to work after her child was born, but he had married her and taught her everything he’d known about running a house of pleasure. Though Kitty was thankful that he did indeed save her, she often wondered what set her apart from anyone else. Over the years, she had pondered the thought to exhaustion, until she realized that the one thing Jacques coveted above women was respectability. There was nothing more respectable than becoming a husband and a father.
Emmaline sucked at her teeth loudly. “Figures she’d be upset that Alice has Blackwood captivated.” She shrugged a plump shoulder, her rich brown skin gleaming in the candlelit room.
“Indeed, we both know that she does not take rejection well.” Kitty looked at her watch again, turning to leave.
“Perhaps Lilias should learn how to be innocent again?” Emmaline rummaged through a set of old, worn brown drawers to her right.
Kitty couldn’t help but to laugh at the comment. “I don’t know if Lilias remembers ever being innocent. Do you?” Kitty asked, happy that she could solve one problem swiftly.
Now all she had to do was to speak with Lilias and ensure the petty nonsense stopped before someone got hurt or terminated. She had gained two more women recently, twin sisters, but she needed the more experienced women to mentor the newer members. Despite her unpredictable attitude, Lilias was an excellent mentor.
“I don’t remember at all,” Emmaline whispered, a dark shadow crossing her countenance. “But I know a particular earl remembers your innocence very well.” Her friend teased her, winking one eye suggestively at Kitty. “Will the earl be attending tonight?
“Perhaps. The earl has not informed me of his plans for the evening,” she said, trying to hide the small dash of hope in her voice.
Kitty rushed out of the room, thankful that her dark skin would conceal the heat rising on her cheeks. She had confided her history with Harrison to Emmaline long ago, after a night of too much indulgence in her finest brandy.
As a girl, she had loved Harrison more than anything in the world. Now he was the man she resisted with every inch of her being. Kitty could admit that his constant marriage proposals thrilled her, but it was becoming distracting since she could never marry him. Not that she didn’t want to be with Harrison; it was more that she would lose everything including herself. That, and the fact she wasn’t entirely sure he would ever forgive her for the real reason she’d married Jacques.
Harrison had always been the kindest person she’d ever known, but surely even he had his limits. Would he forgive Kitty once he learned the truth about their child?
With one task scheduled to be handled, Kitty reached her study, ready to have a word with Lilias, but before she could enter, her head of security, Siegfried, strolled up to her.
His blond hair hung to his shoulders, his piercing blue eyes serious. There was no hint of a smile on his handsome face. Often, both men and women would approach Kitty inquiring about her stern security guard, wondering if he was on the Pleasure House menu—he was not.
“Madame, there is a line forming, shall we open the doors?” he asked, stopping in front of her.
“A line, again?” Kitty asked.
It was rare that they were busy during the winter months. Most of the aristocracy were away at their country homes, but this year, Parliament had called a special session.
Usually, the months after the season saw Pleasure House filled with repairs, staffing the household and interviewing for new members of the pleasure staff. Kitty rarely added more than one or two new people a year. She hand-selected most of the ladies and men at Pleasure House. Being chosen as a Pleasure House Pleaser was an honor that women and men throughout England coveted.
It was a name she had chosen after Jacques’s death because courtesan, mistress, prostitute, and light skirt were all unfavorable terms in Kitty’s opinion.
“This one’s longer than most during the fucking season. Seems like the gents have all returned to Town without their balls and chains,” Siegfried good-naturedly cursed, chuckling to himself.
Kitty brushed back a stray dark curl, there went the quiet evening she’d been hoping for. “Open the doors, but ensure that no one who is not a member enters. No exceptions; they must have clearance,” Kitty said, placing her hand on the door handle of her study. “And perhaps we should look into hiring more security for the Christmas Ball.”
Siegfried nodded his agreement. “I’ve already sent out missives to the usual gents.”
“Good. We’re going to need extra help if there is already a line in December,” she said, turning to enter her study.
In the past, there had been several incidents where gentlemen and ladies of the ton tried to enter Pleasure House without being a member. That would never happen as long as Kitty was the owner.
When her late husband had run the business, he’d allowed any manner of scoundrels and reprobates to enter their establishment. It was Kitty who’d suggested a more exclusive membership and clientele. This protected every employee from unwanted attention.
Siegfried nodded his head before he walked away to do Kitty’s bidding. She trusted the man with her life and her livelihood. Siegfried and his team of three men and one female would ensure that every single person at Pleasure House remained protected.
Entering her study, she found Lilias sitting lazily on the black chaise lounge in the corner—like she hadn’t destroyed someone’s property.
Her light complexion and silky hair hinted of the aristocratic father that she had constantly claimed since Kitty had arrived at Pleasure House. Lilias was a stunning woman, a fact that she used to her advantage.
“Kitty, I know what you’re thinking.” Lilias stood, holding her hands out in front of her.
Walking over to the other woman, Kitty folded her arms and cocked her head to the side. “Kitty?” she asked.
Over the years, her and Lilias’ dislike for eachother had other turned into a functional and highly profitable working relationship. Some days they jested and laughed together, and there was the occasional conversation about clients, London, and the monthly activities that Kitty planned for the house occupants. However, Kitty wouldn’t describe them as friends. If they were friends, a friend would know not to tear another woman’s dress out of pure spite. And a friend would definitely know to address her using her proper title as mistress of Pleasure House.
