Rue Allyn (14 page)

“Megan was Father Conroy’s sister, and Father Conroy was causing trouble for Duval. So Cerise kidnapped Megan for revenge, trying to blacken Father Conroy’s name as well as make a profit. I didn’t care who Megan was related to. I loved her, and I planned an escape. I’d steal horses from the stable where Duval’s clients left their mounts. Then I’d take Megan and Trey and leave California. We’d go to Canada and homestead there. Life would finally be good for all of us. I knew Duval suspected I was up to something, but I didn’t realize how much she knew. Then the judge came back to town.”

Edith bit back the questions that rose, almost wishing they would go unanswered.

“Someone laughed at him for being the father of a boy-whore. He was drunk, and like me, he had a temper. He nearly beat the man to death until he told the judge that I was working for Duval. My father came roaring into the bordello, waving his knife and raving about how Duval had debauched his son.

“I was out stealing those horses, so I wasn’t there to call Duval a liar when she claimed that a conniving hussy named Megan was at fault. I found out later that Cerise egged the judge on, told him where to find Megan, and followed him. She watched as the judge stabbed Megan repeatedly. That’s when I walked into the room.”

“Oh, Dutch, no.”

He nodded and kept on talking. “Megan was still alive when I got there. I screamed at Duval to send for a doctor, but all she did was smile. My father tried to run, but Duval stopped him. They both watched as Megan died in my arms. She made me promise that I would leave, get out, become respectable. Live out the dream we’d had together. By dying she made that possible.”

“How?”

“I was in shock, and the judge, well he must have realized that Duval had tricked him, but he’d done the killing so he was consumed with fear for his own hide. Duval took the knife from him. She got my shirt from me by claiming that she’d have it washed as it was soaked with Megan’s blood. Duval was about to make us leave the room when I finally snapped out of the daze I was in and told her that she was party to a murder and no longer held any power over me. I was leaving with Trey, and if she or my father said anything about what happened in that room, I would tell everything I knew. I meant everything, not just about Megan’s murder, but about Duval’s clients and her other criminal activities.

“Duval tried to threaten me the same way. If I exposed her, she’d harm Trey. It was a stand-off. So in exchange for my silence about the murder of the woman I loved, Duval let Trey and me go. The way Duval sees it, I bested her, and that threatens her power over others. She hates me and wants revenge. I don’t think the judge got away quite so easy. He does her dirty work because she’s got that hold over him. By now she probably has more.”

“Your father is a fool and a coward.”

“You won’t get any argument from me on that.”

“Where did you go? How did you survive? Are you still grieving?”

“No, a part of me will always love Megan, but I’ve made my peace with those feelings. As for shelter, I took Trey and went to the only place I knew of that would be safe. I went to the mission.”

“You went to Father Conroy?”

Dutch nodded.

“And you didn’t tell him about his sister?”

“How could I? My silence bought Trey’s safety.”

Edith understood. In a similar situation she would do the same to keep her sisters safe and secure. That need for safety was precisely what had kept her silent when Dutch had asked if Grandfather was rich.

“Your father never garnered the courage to break free of Duval, not even for his family.”

Dutch shook his head. “Family feeling never motivated my father. He wants money. Probably so he can leave town and get far away from Duval and the Chinaman. They’d kill him without a second thought, if they knew he betrayed them. I won’t pay him without hard evidence that his information is good. The night you and I met, he was supposed to meet me later with the proof in hand, but he never showed. I’ve been chasing him and a dozen or more false leads ever since. Tonight I was out following one of those leads, a man who claimed to know about Trey and my father.”

At long last a smile crept over his face.

Edith blinked. What in the world had he to smile about if his leads were false? “Did the man have the information you wanted?”

“No, but he had something else. Your trunk.”

Her eyes went wide then her brow wrinkled. “But? If you have my trunk, then whose trunk did I take from Duval’s house tonight?”

“Beats me. Maybe we’d better go find out.”

Edith led the way to the alcove where the Tangs had stored the trunk. Dutch followed with the lamp. She knelt, looking for the lock or a keyhole then noticed that the hasps had been broken. Releasing the latches and lifting the lid, she peered inside.

She found only a threadbare cloak and some plain women’s underwear. She reached for the cloak, removing it from the trunk as she stood. The limp cloth was stiff in one spot and that spot rustled when pressed.

“What in the world? There’s something inside the lining?”

“Let me help.”

Dutch gave her the lantern, then took a knife and slit the lining of the cloak where the object rested.

As the cloth came away, Edith saw papers. She gave the lantern back to Dutch, removed the papers from the cloak and took them to the kitchen table.

Her shoulders shook, and she swiped at silent tears.

“Edith?”

She heard the concern in Dutch’s voice.

“Photographs,” she managed to say around the lump in her throat. “These are Kiera’s photographs. She’s a master at capturing contrasts that enhance the story of a picture. I’d recognize her work anywhere.”

Dutch’s heat warmed her back as he looked over her shoulder. “Your sister takes dirty pictures?”

Edith almost laughed. “She must have taken these at Duval’s. Kiera’s always been smart. I’ll bet she sold her photographer’s skills instead of her body. I can also understand why she kept these. She’s proud of her work. The subject matter is much less important to her than the story the picture tells. These images may all be of women in the bordello, but their expressions, postures, even the poses tell how each of them really feels about what they do.

“You can see all that in a photograph?”

“All you have to do is look. Look outside your expectations and see what’s really there.”

“Amazing.”

Edith turned. Dutch still leaned against her, looking at the pictures. With his head bent, his lips were close enough she could feel each passing breath.

“Thank you,” eased from her lips as she closed the space and pressed her mouth to his.

His arms went around her waist. His lips pressed back. His tongue teased the seam of her mouth.

Edith opened to him and sank into his strength, wishing the kiss would never end and knowing it had to.

• • •

Kissing him had been right as she thought it over the next day. The kiss had ended much too quickly. Dutch had stepped back and apologized for his forwardness. She’d wanted to wring his neck. The man was far too conscious of the proprieties. Given his past she understood why. All the same his care of her as much as that kiss decided her course of action. She definitely had feelings for the man. Tsung was right. Edith would never understand the extent of those feelings if she didn’t seduce Dutch Trahern. Lord knew if she’d ever again meet a man she liked as much as she liked him or have an opportunity to act on her feelings.

So she worked at finding Kiera by day — making queries at framer’s shops and mercantiles that carried photographic supplies — and seducing Dutch by night. Neither attempt was very successful, but there were a great many shops in San Francisco. With Dutch, however, her failure was due to inexperience and a lack of opportunity, since he spent his days at work and his nights following rumors of his father’s whereabouts.

Edith could do nothing about her opportunities, but she could do something about her inexperience.

She voiced her thoughts to Tsung, and between them, they came up with a plan.

“You’re sure this will work?” Edith whispered to Tsung in the kitchen just before serving dinner one night.

“Yes, yes. Mista Dutch love chocolate. That cocoa oil make you smell like cake. He try to find chocolate, go crazy for you. You just make sure you close enough for him to smell oil.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, picking up a platter of chops. Despite her words, nerves danced in her stomach and heat rose to her cheeks. She pushed through the door and stood poised, just inside the dining room.

Her nerves danced faster until they beat a rapid tattoo that she felt over her entire body. Dutch Trahern cleaned up very nicely. She’d rarely seen him save in the dark or when he was less than presentable. Now, though he looked tired, he was freshly scrubbed and shaven. Gone was the scruffy beard and the sloppy clothing from the day when he’d rescued the remains of the cat. Tonight he wore a linen shirt that clung to the sleek muscles of his arms and chest. His blond hair curled damply at his neck and across his forehead.

Edith felt a tightening in her belly and a distinct wobble in her knees. Her head spun. She leaned against the door to gain her balance. Fairly certain that she was aroused she was still uncertain what to do about it? She couldn’t remember everything she’d read, seen and heard at Duval’s nor could she just pounce on the man. She had to wait, entice him, or she’d never learn anything about sexual attraction. In her present state, waiting would be uncomfortable to say the least.

“Edith, is something wrong?” His deep voice stroked her ears and made her shiver.

“No.”

“I hope you don’t plan to stand there all night. I’m famished.” He sniffed the air. “Is that pork chops I smell?”

“Smell?”
Smell
! She had to get closer to him. He couldn’t smell the cocoa oil Tsung had dabbed on her ears, wrists, and neck. “Why yes. Pork chops and baked apples.”

Edith advanced to his end of the table, marched to his right shoulder, leaned close to Dutch, and set the platter beside his right hand. “Allow me to serve you.”

Before he could object, she shifted to his left side, leaned forward, bringing her ear as close to his face as she dared, and grabbed the serving tongs. She lifted an apple and two chops onto his plate, set the tongs down, and stood up.

Dutch inhaled deeply. “Mmmm, what a delicious scent.”

Edith stood frozen in place waiting for him to remark on the cocoa aroma that mixed with the smell of pork and apples.

Nothing.

Drat. What was wrong with the man? He simply sat there. He didn’t even eat.

“Edith?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you going to eat, too?”

She felt her face heat. She’d been so preoccupied with exerting her femininity that she’d forgotten to behave normally.

“Why yes.” She minced to her own place, picked up her plate, and returned to his side. “I will have a bite or two.”

She set her plate next to his then repeated her earlier performance, loading chops and apples onto her plate. Surely he had to smell the cocoa now. She paused, bent over the table, waiting for a comment. When none came she took another serving, then a third.

“Are you sure you only want a bite or two?”

She looked at Dutch then followed his gaze to her plate. “Oh my. I do seem to be rather hungry.” She dropped the tongs onto the platter and stood slowly.

After a lengthy pause, Dutch cleared his throat. “Well then. We’ll eat as soon as you sit down.”

She jolted into motion. This attraction business was more complicated than Tsung or Madame Duval had led her to believe. Nor did the unexpected tendency to woolgather help at all.

Dinner was sheer torture. She couldn’t taste the food. The memory of Dutch’s lips on hers flavored every bite. Nor could she seem to string two sensible words together, as he asked about her day and tried to make conversation.

At last he pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. “We have some time this evening before I have to go out. We could go over what you know about your sister and perhaps make a better plan to find out where she is.” He sipped at his tea.

Setting her knife and fork on her empty plate, she hesitated, drawing her brows together. Edith repeated what little she knew about the supposed murder from the newspaper article found among Grandfather’s documents. “I don’t know much that I haven’t already told you. One of the maids at the bordello spoke about a woman who lived there about a year and a half ago and murdered her lover, a photographer. The timing is right for when Kiera would be in San Francisco and fits with the speculation that she earned a living taking photographs for Duval.”

“I recall hearing about that murder, and Cerise Duval would not hesitate to cook up a false accusation against an innocent who was in her black books in order to cover up a crime that Cerise had a hand in. She’s trying to do something similar to me and my brother Trey.”

“Are you saying that Madame Duval murdered this man and framed Kiera?” Edith’s eyes went wide.

He shook his head. “I’m saying that it is likely Duval framed your sister; whether Cerise actually committed the murder or not is impossible to tell. She’s certainly capable of murder when it suits her.”

Edith blinked. Why hadn’t that idea occurred to her? “That’s an interesting idea and bears more thought. Meanwhile, perhaps you’d tell me about your business and your family.”

His eyes narrowed and he looked as if he wanted to ask more, then he shrugged. “The business is import and export, which is pretty self-explanatory. Although my father is alive, we’re estranged. So, my only family is my brother Trey. He’s a little more difficult to explain. He’s nineteen years old and thinks he’s thirty. He won’t let anyone tell him what to do or how to do it.”

Sympathetic warmth stole through Edith’s body. “He sounds a great deal like Kiera. She always went her own way. In defiance of Grandfather she bought her camera with pennies we saved. Then she learned to take photographs. He was furious when she ran. She was his favorite. Sometimes I think he admired her for defying him. I was the one he punished for helping her get that camera. I took that beating and many others gladly to protect my sisters. I don’t know if … how he’ll take her return.” Edith stopped abruptly. She was about to mention the will, and that would never do.