“What on earth is going on out here?” Colleen asked.
“I caught her peeping around your room.” The man shook Molly’s arm. “She says she works at the club.”
“She does.” Colleen pressed her back against the doorjamb and pointed into her office. “Let’s bring her in here.” She turned to Lucy. “Thank you. I think we’re done.”
With a curious look at Molly, Lucy scooted past the group and inched down the stairs, casting glances back over her shoulder every other step.
Molly jerked her arm from her captor’s grip and sauntered into the office, head high. One of the guards made a move to follow, but Colleen held up a hand. “You won’t be needed for this.” She closed the door and faced the scourge of The Black Rose. Perhaps scourge was a tad dramatic, but Molly had turned into a severe annoyance.
“Was there a particular reason you were in my chambers?” Colleen circled behind her desk and plopped in her chair. “Something you were looking for?”
“A shawl.” Crossing her arms over her small frame, Molly gave a delicate shiver. “I left my wrap at home and was hoping to borrow one.”
That was a good line, Colleen had to give her that. Molly was quick-witted. She was also a consummate liar. “Well, I’ll be happy to provide you with a covering for your return trip home. Your services are no longer needed here.”
Molly’s jaw dropped open, genuine shock blanking her face. “You can’t dismiss me. I’m the best incognita The Black Rose has.”
“That may be true, but your skill is surpassed by your deceit. I won’t have workers I can’t trust. Not anymore.” Picking up a piece of lead, Colleen rolled it between her palms. Trust was a precious commodity. One she should be willing to give if she expected it returned.
She shook off thoughts of Max. This was business. “You can collect any belongings you have stored here, and I’ll direct a carriage to take you home.” Standing, she stretched for the ledger on the shelf behind her. “I’ll tally up your past wages and settle with you before you go.”
Molly jumped forwards and slapped the journal from her hand. It fell onto the desk, cover open, the pages inside bending against the wood. “You can keep your pin money. I don’t need it.”
Colleen didn’t know anyone who didn’t need money. Not enough to ignore a week’s worth of wages. She cocked her head and righted the journal, smoothing the pages. “Do you have someone taking care of you? Perhaps the gentleman who showers you with expensive jewels?” A new stone rested above the girl’s low neckline. Deep blue and as large as a lump of coal.
Molly stepped around the desk, making Colleen stumble back. “Do you think there is only one man who knows my worth? That I won’t have fifty such idiots lining up to beg me to be their mistress?” She poked a sharp nail into Colleen’s shoulder. “I could buy this club ten times over.” She blinked and pressed her lips together in a slight grimace. “Yes, I think I’ll order one of my patrons to buy this club out from under you and toss you to the street. Because that’s where you belong. You’re nothing more than trash, and no amount of fancy gowns the baron buys for you will change that.”
Molly had backed Colleen around the desk and across the room. The solid weight of the door hit Colleen’s bottom, and her shoulders sagged. Only three inches away were the two men hired to protect her. She hadn’t thought she’d need their assistance ridding the club of a lightskirt, but the spite in Molly’s eyes told a different story.
“I’m glad that the termination of your employment won’t cause you any setbacks.” Colleen made her voice brisk and businesslike. No need to antagonize or show concern. “And, of course, if you require references, I would write of your great popularity and skill.” Her character would receive a less complimentary mention, however. “Now, as we’ve nothing more to discuss, I bid you good eve’n.” She fumbled behind her back for the latch, not wanting to take her gaze off of Molly. She jerked the door open, scooting to the side.
One of the guards stepped forward, looking irritated. “Any problems?”
“None.” Colleen wiped her damp palms on her skirt. “Molly is going to collect her things. Will you arrange for a carriage and driver to take her where she wishes and escort her out?”
He nodded, his gaze tracking Molly’s every breath. Colleen would have to commend Max on his choice of guard. Annoying as they were being underfoot all the time, she appreciated that they weren’t deceived by a pretty face and a tight bodice. The man recognized Molly for the trouble she was.
The girl’s face shuttered. She strode through the door without acknowledging Colleen or the men. It was as though none of them existed to Molly anymore.
Colleen waited for the door at the base of the stairs to snick shut before returning to her office. She sat behind her desk, and the tension in her body seeped away. The club’s profits would take a blow, but releasing the woman was the right choice for the long-term. Her attitude poisoned the other workers.
Molly’s boastful words rang in her ears. She did seem to have an arsenal of suitors at her disposal, which left Colleen with one question: why had Molly remained at The Black Rose?
Perhaps the lady-bird’s suitors weren’t as ardent as they appeared. A trinket here and there hardly meant they were willing to set her up in the luxury she so obviously thought she deserved. The clients might appreciate her varied talents, but that didn’t lead to a sustained interest. At his core, could a man love and support a woman he didn’t trust?
The small muscles in her neck knotted. Were she and Molly so different? Molly put on an act with her men, deceiving them each night into believing she was a different sort of woman. The woman they most desired.
Colleen was lying to Max. Letting him carry the weight of her guilt. Letting him believe she was a better woman than she was.
If she told him the truth, he might fire her. Perhaps not deliver on her premium. But it was the knowledge that he would never look at her again with worship in his eyes that made her own eyes burn.
That was the loss that would cut the deepest.
***
“I can’t drink another sip of this horse piss The Boar’s Head passes off as ale.” Summerset wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
Max raised an eyebrow. His friend must truly be disgusted to forego using his pocket square. Or perhaps the horse piss was stronger than he thought.
