Edith Layton (2 page)

“Did I actually say that?” he asked, wincing. He inclined his head in a bow to her. “My jest obviously lost something in the Atlantic crossing. It came out too warm by far. I only meant to be amusing. Never too familiar. Forgive me if I offended.”

Mrs. Ames tittered. “As if you could, sir! We’re not offended, are we, Lucy? Of course not,” she hurried on before Lucy could answer. “Anyhow, now that we’ve embarked on this venture we must become more worldly. Now, do pour Mr. Wycoff some of the French brandy. He’s from London! You
two will have
such
a lot to talk about. Oh, but I haven’t introduced you properly! Mr. Wycoff, this is Lucy Stone. Lucy, here is Geoff’s friend, Mr. Wycoff. I presume he’s staying with us for the night. Are you, Mr. Wycoff?”

“I wouldn’t wish to impose,” Wycoff said, for the form of it.

“Oh, it’s no imposition!” Mrs. Ames gasped. “It’s what we’re here for. Didn’t Geoff tell you? We’re new at our trade, but we wish to prosper and word of mouth is our best advertisement. We don’t feel comfortable advertising any other way, to be sure. Well, we feel it’s a trifle…inelegant, you see. And we want to attract a finer clientele. You do understand.”

His glass paused halfway to his lips. To be offended at a warm jest made to one of her girls, and yet be so blunt about her trade in front of her? He recovered, nodding. Joking wasn’t the same as setting terms of trade. The madam was right. It was business, after all. London had guidebooks listing such establishments. He’d been given handbills touting brothels in most of the larger cities he’d visited. He couldn’t remember being handed any on this continent. But the country was growing fast, sophisticated ways were probably catching on here as well.

“Understand?” he said. “I do indeed. It would be unpleasant if you attracted the lower classes, for you and your guests. Very wise of you to invite your clients so discreetly. I’m sure your…staff…
appreciates it as well,” he added with a curling smile for Lucy. “I know I do. Had you advertised and so much as hinted at Miss Lucy’s charms, I know I’d never have a chance to talk with her or have so much as a moment alone with her tonight.”

He was puzzled at how Lucy’s eyes widened at him.

“Well, you won’t have as much as a minute alone with her,” a male voice interrupted harshly.

The man was clearly furious. He strode to Lucy and stood by her, glowering at Wycoff. He was in his thirties, swarthy and dark haired, with surprisingly light eyes. They were blazing now. His strong features were set in a scowl, his muscular body tensed, hands closed to fists at his sides.

Wycoff shrugged. It was frustrating, but he’d suffered worse disappointments. He was a visitor; this fellow’s clothing, while neat enough, marked him as a local. A regular patron of the place, no doubt, who had his night with his favorite already planned. That reminded Wycoff of the true nature of the woman’s trade, a fact he had conveniently forgotten. It made her instantly less desirable. He wasn’t a man who enjoyed sharing his lovers. He’d had enough of that in his past.

“I see,” he said amiably, bowing to the angry fellow. “Forgive me. I’d no idea her time was already spoken for.”

“
Her
time?” Lucy asked, her eyes flaring, “You mean
my
time? And…
spoken for?
” she muttered, shooting a blistering look at both men. “Well, sir, my
time is mine to decide on. And you know it, William,” she spat to the man at her side. “
You
won’t have him spending time with me? That’s lovely. Since when do you say what I do!”

“I was only defending you, Lucy,” he answered apologetically, though he glared at Wycoff.

“There’s no need, I assure you,” Wycoff said, “a simple no would do the trick. I don’t force young women. Or old ones, for that matter. If Lucy doesn’t want to spend the night with me, she has only to say so, and I’ll understand.”

The man she’d called William turned to Lucy, looking triumphant. “See? Just what I mean. The fellow acts as though you’re for sale!”

“He’s from England,” Mrs. Ames cried, looking from one man to the other. “That’s why he’s so hard to understand. He never meant…! Why, how dare you even hint at such a thing! Apologize this instant, William Bellows! I won’t have such a thing
said
in my house. And to a guest! And in front of Lucy and the girls! Shame on you.”

Wycoff looked around. They were the center of the room’s attention. The other young women had stopped talking and were staring, clearly scandalized. The other men looked grim around the mouth. Geoff looked astonished and dumbfounded. Wycoff’s head went up and his eyes widened a fraction. He looked at Lucy, amazed, as the truth of his misunderstanding sank in. Not a whore. Not a bawdy house. Whatever the devil it was, it was not what he’d thought and so blithely implied.

He struggled with an answer for the first time in longer than he could remember. As he did, he saw Lucy’s surprise as she gauged his reactions of shock and dismay.

“Your pardon,” Wycoff said, gazing at her, deciding to try to save his self-respect, if nothing else. He gambled on truth, since he was tired of lies. “I did misspeak myself. Most embarrassingly. It was a misunderstanding, entirely mine. Please forgive me. I’ll leave now and am truly sorry if I offended. It was never my intention, believe me.”

“You mean London dandies always talk to women as though they were trollops?” William asked, his lips curling in a snarl.

“I won’t have that word said in this room!” Mrs. Ames gasped.

“Then let’s take it out of this room and this house,” William growled. “Pistols or swords, or fists, if you’ve the stomach for them, sir. At dawn or now, it’s all the same to me.”

“To me as well,” Wycoff answered calmly, “but I don’t think it’s a thing we ought to settle here and now, not even verbally, before the ladies.”

“Not here nor flow—nor anywhere or way. Because it’s my fault!” Wycoff’s host, Geoff, cried, slapping his forehead. “I showed you farms to buy. I promised you horseflesh to bid on…and then I said…wait, wait, let me think—aye! I promised you accommodations, and female company—in the same breath. And be sure,” he told Mrs. Ames, “I told him beautiful female company, at that! Then we
come here where there’s all your lovely girls, and every man here dallying with them, courting them as usual. But how is he to know that? Then we give him spirits and ask him if he’s staying the night…. Gads! What was you to think?” he asked Wycoff, dropping his grammar in his agitation.

“Geoff!” Mrs. Ames groaned. “No! Say you
didn’t
. Why, the poor man! He’s more sinned against than sinning. What with me going on about how new we are to the
trade
and all. Oh, glory! Mr. Wycoff,” she said, drawing herself up to her full five feet, “We run an inn here, nothing else. The girls you see are my daughters, Harmony, Bess, and Jenny, and their cousin, Sally. Lucy here is a cousin, too, at least she was married to my husband’s cousin. Speaking of which, if my Herbert was home, you wouldn’t have been so misled. But he’s in Richmond, buying supplies, because the cost of dry goods here is something terrible. Be that as it may.”

She took a breath, her bosom swelled like a pigeon’s strutting on a summer morning. “We run an inn. We haven’t been in business long, nor did we ever think we’d come to such a pass, to tell the truth. But we had some reverses, yet were able to keep the house and property. So we decided to make something of it,” she said with dignity. “That’s why we go on about how we’re learning the trade. Because we are. We count on word of mouth and the good will of friends for our custom. One day, Ames Hotel will be a byword for superior accommodations, I do assure
you. Only of the bed and board sort, of course, you understand.”

“I do,” Wycoff said, caught between rue and mirth. “But still it was unseemly and unconscionable of me.” He bowed again. “I’ll take my leave and hope you find it in your heart to forgive me,” he added piously, but he looked at Lucy as he said it.

Those glorious lips were quirked upward; he saw merriment sparkling in her midnight blue eyes. The man standing at her side noticed, too. His dark face grew darker still when he saw Lucy fighting back a smile. “A man sees what he wants to see,” he said dangerously, “and what he’s used to seeing, too, I think.”

“No, not at all, my fault, I assure you!” Geoff cried. “I only meant to recommend the facilities, and since all the men enjoy the girls’ company here…. Ah! I’m doing it again! I beg your pardon.”

“I blame no one,” Wycoff said smoothly, “and would be pleased if no one blamed me. But that, I imagine, is too much to hope for.”

Mrs. Ames and others in the room, released from being onlookers by the drama of the moment, chimed in to say how they didn’t blame him, not one bit. But Lucy didn’t say anything; she just kept measuring him with her eyes. William only glowered.

Wycoff stretched out a hand to him. “Come, sir, can you bury the thought of pistols, swords, and fists, and take my hand instead?”

Grudgingly, as though he realized he’d look churlish if he didn’t, William stuck out a hand. The two men shook hands briefly.

“I can’t wait to tell my Herbert of this,” Mrs. Ames said with relief. “I’m sure he’ll laugh himself to jelly.”

“Or want to pound me into one,” Wycoff murmured.

“No indeed,” she laughed. “He’s got a ripe sense of humor, he has. It’s been the salvation of us, to be sure. Now, please, make yourself at home. Do have another glass and feel free to stay before the fireside long as you like. We’ve a bedchamber for you when you’re ready, if you wish it. Now I’ll just see to my other guests, if you don’t mind, for it’s getting late, and we close the doors when all our guests are in—and our visitors are out,” she added with a pointed look at William.

“Only two gentleman are staying over,” she told Wycoff. “The rest, as Geoff said, are here because of the girls…” She colored up and added quickly, “I mean to say, my daughters and cousins. I’ll have to mind my tongue in future, too, won’t I?” She shook her head. “Come along, William,” she said briskly, “the clock struck the hour and you know the rules.”

William stood still as she bustled off to announce the hour to the other men in the room. They groaned and laughed, but began to make their farewells. “Good night then,” William muttered. “Will you see me to the door, Lucy?”

“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten the way,” Lucy said coolly. “Goodnight, William.”

“I will see you tomorrow,” William told her, gave a jerky bow, turned and left.

“Was that a threat or a promise?” Wycoff asked Lucy after William flung on his greatcoat, marched to the door, and stormed out into the night.

“He’s a nice man,” she said quietly, staring at the door, “he really is. He’s just—ah well—it doesn’t matter.” She looked up at him and smiled. “But now
tonight
. It was shocking, and I shouldn’t say so, but also really comical. And will get funnier in the retelling, I promise. What a stir you made. I think you’ll become a legend. The gentleman from London who came to Virginia and thought Mrs. Ames ran a…” She frankly grinned, and then tilted her head as she regarded him. “You really thought I was a—well—you know?”

He smiled, “A definite ‘you know’. Although I thought you far too well bred for your choice of profession. I’m sorry if it embarrasses you, but so it was.”

“Was it the way I’m dressed? Or look?” she blurted.

“No. It was the way you were presented to me, like offering a hungry man a whole dinner on a plate…and such a beautifully prepared one, served with relish and spice. No—please,” he said as the color rose to her cheeks, “I don’t want to apologize again, but there was no way to answer that—honestly, at
least—without risking offending you, so I had to joke. You do see?”

She nodded. She saw that, and more. He’d be more than an anecdote to remember. At least for her. He’d come and set everything on its ear in more ways than by his amusing misunderstanding. He’d reminded her of the life she’d once led, and showed her the world that lay outside this door. It was more than the fact that he was so devilish attractive. After all, there were handsome men aplenty. It was everything about him.

His elegance. His maturity. He was a decade older than she, perhaps, young enough to still be in the prime of his life, old enough to find her young. His masculinity, the hard strength of him clearly displayed by his fashionable close-fitting clothing. The simple pure contours of that face of his, the high bridged nose, firm lips, those interested eyes that turned down at their corners and looked at a woman as though he were seeing to every corner of her soul. The way those two vertical lines to the sides of his mouth deepened when he smiled, showing his age, but also his ready humor. His cleanliness, the shining light brown hair swept back from that high forehead. His sophistication. The place he had obviously come from and the memories he brought back.

And the way he studied her, assessing her, approving her, awakening her to what he was obviously thinking, making her feel alive in every way and in every part that had been sleeping for so long.
He wanted her. He let her see it. Perhaps he wouldn’t have if he’d hadn’t thought her a whore. Perhaps he would have, he was that sure of himself. And that able to get away with it, she’d bet.

He was tall and lean, almost severe. But the strict, clean lines of his face could be made warm and human by that slow, curling smile. She’d seen it happen, and found she wanted to see it again.

“Consider yourself entirely forgiven,” she said. “I asked for your reasons, didn’t I? Well, I suppose any further discussion of it will take the same risk. So let’s forget it, shall we?”

“Done,” he said. “I can’t promise not to say things that make you blush, because I
will
praise what I find praiseworthy. But I can promise I’ll never knowingly offend you again. I give you my hand on it. Will you take it?”

It sounded like he was offering much more. It was nothing he said, and everything because of the way he said it. He extended one long hand. It would be rude of her not to accept it. She took his hand, and caught her breath as it closed over hers. Sometimes when she crossed the room on a cold day and touched the doorknob she felt a tingling shock. This was much more than that. She felt it to her elbow, and further, to her heart. She looked up at him. His eyes had widened, too.