Page 103 of If Looks Could Kill
What Pearl ever saw in him… besides perfect hair, eyes, physique, voice, teeth…
“Sowhat’strue, Mr. Laurier?”
He blustered a bit. “That you both were… er, involved in a brothel. Somehow.”
He at least had the grace to look awkward. I, on the other hand, was livid.
“Not as financial backers,” I said crisply. “Not as landlords, employees, or clients.”
Those Grecian features contorted in horror. “Is this any time to be so vulgar?”
“It seems to me,” I snapped, “that the vulgar assumptions are yours.”
A shadow fell across Purse Laurier’s face as the broad form of Captain Paddy Campbell joined the conversation and blocked the sun.
“Sister Tabitha,” he said warmly. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve done a round with a garden rake.” He pantomimed a jovial punch. “I hope you gave better than you got.”
I pressed my hands over my cheeks. “Bit of a mishap,” I said. “I’m fine. Thanks, though.”
His expression grew serious. “Is there any news of Pearl?” he asked. “Sister Carrie said she’d left the Army suddenly. Awfully sorry to see her go. Is she all right?”
His kindness hit me, and I blinked hard. You, tears, you stay back where you belong.
“She’s a bit… unwell,” I admitted. “She’s left abruptly. I was hoping”—I couldn’t bring myself to name Purse Laurier aloud—“she might have gotten word to somebody here.”
That was the real lie. I knew she wouldn’t. The chance that she would communicate with Purse in her current state had been nil from the start. But when you’re grasping at straws, you grasp.
Purse shook his head. “She didn’t send me anything.”
Paddy removed his cap. “Nor I,” he said, “of course.” He leaned closer. “What’s this about both of you in a brothel tussle?” His eyes gleamed. “Was this a rescue operation?”
I shot a barbed look at Sir Percival the Not-So-Glorious.
“Something like it,” I said. “It unfolded more or less, er, spontaneously.”
Paddy whistled. “That’s brave. You’re lucky to be alive, and no mistake.” He clapped a palm over his opposite fist and pretended to administer a near-fatal elbow jab at a villain. “Next time, take me. I’ll send those rascals’ heads rolling while you rescue the unfortunate ladies.”
“I appreciate it,” I said helplessly.
Paddy’s face grew sober. “There was a woman here, this morning, asking about you.”
“What did she look like?”
Paddy considered this. “She was… slim,” he said. “Dark hair. Very elegant clothing. She stood out, you might say.”
My insides turned to ice. “What did she say?”
“Something about you, Pearl, and two friends. She wanted to know where to find you.”
My heart sank down to my boots. “Did anyone tell her?”
Paddy glanced at Purse, who shook his head. He knew about her too?
“None of us knew where you were, anyhow,” Paddy said. “So nobody told her anything.”
I sagged with relief. “She’s the brothel madam,” I admitted. “Never tell her anything.”
I trembled with fear, then scolded myself for it. You knew she’d come looking. This shouldn’t surprise you. Focus on Pearl.
