Pearls Read online

  “I’m so sorry for the wait, Miss Marguerite, Cook insisted on pulling out the good china and….” Adelaide waddled in, the full tray steady in her hands. Her plump face fell into almost comical lines of disappointment. “Oh, has your guest left already?”

  “No ordinary guest, Addy.” I made my way back to the chair on shaky legs, lowering myself to the seat. “The Duke Grégoire Barthélemy, alderman for the newly formed vampyre district.”

  “A Duke?” She set the tray on the occasional table, bustling over and clucking her tongue. “In those clothes? Oh, Miss Marguerite.” Her eyes widened in horror. “Vampyre district? What nonsense are you talking about?”

  “Exactly as I said.” I took the tea she offered, blowing on the steaming liquid to cool it. “Our new rulers are shunting the humans off to the west of Canal Street, buying our houses and evicting us.” I paused, preparing myself for the coming outburst. “Creating pleasure districts.”

  “Pleasure dis….” Addy sputtered for what I would have sworn was the first time in her entire life—most definitely in mine. “A sea of sin and iniquity! I would expect little else from such godless creatures.”

  “The Duke has given me another option, one besides eviction or setting up a house of ill repute.” I sipped my tea, steeling my nerves. “An offer of friendship.”

  “Friendship.” Her eyes widened even more, nearly enveloping her face. “Miss Marguerite, you can’t! What would your parents say?”

  “If my parents were alive I doubt this would be an issue.” I snapped the words out, setting the cup down next to me. “I would have been married off two or three years ago, war or no war, and safely ensconced in my husband’s home. Since I am not, I must deal with this turn of events.”

  “If you won’t think of your parents, think of the Church, think of your soul!” She wrung her hands in her apron, shaking her head. “Your soul, Miss Marguerite!”

  “And are the good priests going to provide us with lodging, Adelaide? Will God somehow work a miracle and ensure we are not reduced to a single bedroom in some hovel?” My voice shook, my eyes watering. “We may all be subservient to these vampyres but do you truly believe the whites will suddenly see us as equal? Do you want to live like that, Adelaide, because I do not.”

  “You sound as if you’ve already made your choice.” She sighed, clucking her tongue yet again, the noise suddenly annoying me to no end. “Oh, Miss Marguerite.”

  “If you find the idea of staying with me distasteful, you are free to seek employment elsewhere. I understand.” I swallowed, working hard to blink back tears. “I will provide you whatever references you need.”

  She stood silent for so long I began to fear she would do exactly that. Finally, she cleared her throat. “I’ve been with you since you were just a bump in your mother’s belly. You were as much my child as you were theirs. I won’t leave you, Miss Marguerite.”

  I nodded, too overcome with relief and love for words. Dabbing at the corners of my eyes, I brought myself under control with a few deep breaths. “The Duke left a card. Wait two hours and then send a message inviting him to dinner.”

  “To dinner?” If it was possible, Addy looked more horrified at the idea of serving the Duke food than of my impending descent into debauchery. “Do they even eat food?”

  “I suppose you’ll need to find out.” I rose, shaking out my dress. “Do you know where Mama’s blue silk ball gown is stored?”

  “I do, and I’ll take it out and press it while I wait to send your message.” She waved me out of the room and up the stairs, her face creasing in a reluctant smile. “Go rest now, Miss Marguerite. You’ll need all your strength for your guest.”

  Later that evening, I stood in the hall, studying my reflection in the mirror as I waited for the Duke to arrive. Against Adelaide’s suggestion, I wore my dark hair unbound, the curls spilling in a loose cascade over my shoulders. I wore no cosmetics to accent my pale blue eyes—my father’s eyes—and only a hint of beeswax on my lips.

  The dress—my mother’s dress, hastily altered for my more voluptuous figure—matched my eyes. My breasts swelled gently above the moderately scooped neckline, my shoulders bared. The tiny sleeves ended high on my arms, the silk banded by even paler lace. Against the dictates of fashion, the skirt fell in almost straight lines with only the slightest of flares.

  Innocent—and yet not.

  The doorbell sounded and I jumped, pressing a hand to my suddenly racing heart. Taking a deep breath I moved forward, forcing my frozen lips to curve upward. I opened the door, folding my hands at my waist. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

  “Good evening, Miss Saint-Laurent.” His smile looked much more relaxed than mine, actually reaching his blue and red eyes. “Thank you for your invitation.”

  “Thank you for accepting it.” I stood there awkwardly for a moment before clearing my throat. “Would you like to come in, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Walking up the steps, he stepped in to the foyer, closing the door behind him. Turning to me, he took one of my icy hands in his, bowing even as he lifted my hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. “Your hands are cold.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

  “No need to apologize, Marguerite.” The Duke straightened, his smile widening. “I find it quite amusing you only remember to address me as your grace when you are either angry or nervous.”

  “My temper is normally quite subtle.” I laughed, feeling slightly more at ease. “Your Grace.”

  “Grégoire.” He stepped forward, reaching up and twirling a loose curl around his fingers. “Your hair is longer than I imagined. Softer, as well.”

  Unsure what to say, I stayed silent, working to control the tiny shivers wrought by his fingers as they trailed down my jawline. His thumb pressed firmly into my chin, my bottom lip falling open. He chuckled, lowering his head. “You make me forget myself, Marguerite. We have business to discuss.”

  “Yes, of course.” I swallowed, taking a shaky step back, breaking contact. “Would you prefer to have dinner first or…?”

  “Business, Marguerite.” His smile died, hunger creeping into his gaze. “And then we… celebrate our new friendship.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” I led him into the front parlor, taking my seat from earlier in the day. “I assume there’s paperwork of some sort?”

  “Yes, as a way to protect both of us.” Sitting opposite me, he withdrew a bundle of papers from his inside jacket pocket, passing them to me. “You’ll see all the terms and specifications discussed earlier are made clear here. You’ll also see the exact amount of your allowance. As I stated before, you will find it more than generous.”

  I stared at the sum, not quite able to believe my eyes. “Twenty thousand dollars? In addition to all the household accounts?”

  “I’m a very wealthy man, Marguerite—another advantage to my advanced age.” The Duke smiled at me again, this time with a distinct undertone of indulgence. “There are individuals I would prefer you use for certain things—your attire, the renovations of the house—but there are no limits on your spending power. Staff wages will also be paid by me so I hope you will hire more help than what you currently have.”

  Picking up a pen, I flipped to the back page, glancing up at him. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

  “Normally I insert a clause about the repercussions of failing to maintain exclusivity but I don’t believe it’s necessary for our arrangement.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “This exclusivity is mutual, Marguerite.”

  I nodded, strangely moved to tears. “Thank you.” Before I could change my mind, I scrawled my signature across the bottom of the paper. Taking a deep breath, I handed the bundle back to him. “Will you provide me with a copy as well, Your… Grégoire?”

  “Yes, of course.” He tossed the papers on the table, rising and extending his hand. “And now, would you do me the honor of showing me to your bedroom, my little daisy?”
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br />   I let him pull me to my feet, one of his arms sliding around my waist. The journey from parlor to foyer and up the staircase seemed almost eternal, my pulse pounding in my ears. When we reached the door to the master suite, I paused, turning to face him. “Please, I mean no offense but--.”

  “You’re scared.” Grégoire framed my face with his palms, barely touching my skin. “It is only natural. I promise you, I will not hurt you.” He moved closer, brushing his lips over mine. “My only intent is to show you the most exquisite pleasure.”

  I pressed my shaking hand to his chest, to where his heart should have beat firm and strong. Instead, there was only hard muscle. I swallowed, looking up to find him studying me. “Does it bother you?”

  “I have been without a heartbeat for many years, little daisy.” He kissed me again, longer this time, not pulling back until I gasped into his mouth. He chuckled, flicking the tip of my nose. “But I thank you for your concern.”

  Between one breath and the next, he lifted me in his arms, striding in to the room. He stopped halfway to the bed, setting me on my feet. “I’m going to undress you now. Slowly. Anytime you feel scared or nervous, simply touch my hand.”

  I nodded, unable to form any words. At the swirl of his finger, I turned, giving him my back. One by one he undid the buttons, cold air rushing over my hot skin.

  He sighed then chuckled. “Was this your idea, Marguerite? So scandalous for someone so innocent.”

  “We didn’t have time to alter the undergarments which would normally accompany the dress.” My face flamed red. “Or the money.”

  “Shh, shh.” He swept my hair forward, brushing his lips over the nape of my neck. “Worries to be forgotten. For now….” He pushed the dress down, the silk puddling at my feet. His sigh this time was longer and full of what I could only assume was male appreciation. “For now, my little daisy, the only worry is providing you endless pleasure.”

  On unsteady legs, I turned again to face him. Lifting my arms, I wrapped them around his neck, pressing my naked breasts to his chest. Raising my chin, I licked my lower lip, some part of me already aware how much he enjoyed the motion. When his breath caught, I smiled—my first real smile of the night.

  “Show me, Your Grace.

  Fifteen years later….

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Marguerite, but you have a visitor.”

  “Please take their card, Adelaide.” I shifted my gaze from the mirror to the door and bit back a sigh. “And then retire for the night. I’ll speak with Rosalie and have her bring a tray to your room.”

  “Oh, there’s no need for all that fuss, Miss Marguerite.” She ceased rubbing the small of her back and straightened to her full height. She was not, however, able to conceal the wince which crossed her plump and wrinkled face. “My bones are just feeling the cold weather, is all. It’ll pass soon enough.”

  “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for my own peace of mind.” Turing back to the highly polished silver, I studied my reflection before opening the small jewelry box centered on the glossy wood surface. After a moment of contemplation, I settled on the citrine and turquoise earrings, fixing them to my lobes before clasping the matching necklace around my neck. “You know how unhappy I would be if anything were to happen to you.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me but if it’ll make you feel better I’ll take myself off to my bed like I’m some sort of old woman.” She huffed out a single breath ripe with indignation but her next words were full of warmth. “After I see Miss Sophie to bed. You know she’ll be a holy terror for that nursemaid of hers if she doesn’t get her story.”

  “You are not mistaken about that.” I rose, smoothing the pale turquoise silk until it fell in perfect lines. The pendant, a large two caret citrine surrounded by smaller, paler citrines designed to emulate a daisy, lay flat just where the swell of my breasts began. Even with the amount of cleavage the dress afforded, I would still be amongst the more conservatively attired. Turning to face my old companion, I said, “Are my cloak and gloves downstairs?”

  “Oh, yes, Grace brought them down earlier.” Adelaide shifted to one side, fussing with the curl of my hair as I walked past her and made my way down the hall. “About the visitor, Miss Marguerite--.”

  “Oh, and my fan. And glasses. Oh, and the blasted reticule for everything.” Lifting the hem of my dress to ensure I wouldn’t trod on it, something I’d done on more than one occasion in the past, I hurried down the stairs. As I gained the first landing, I caught sight of the Duke, standing patiently in the foyer. Raising my voice, I called out, “I know, I’m late.”

  “Never, dearest.” With two long strides, he met me at the foot of the staircase, hand outstretched. “Where you are concerned, there is no time.”

  “Flatterer.” I laughed and took his hand, allowing him to help me descend the last few stairs. I studied him for a moment, noting the faint shadows under his eyes, the darkened red rim surrounding the blue irises. “You haven’t eaten today.”

  “I’ve been busy at Court. The Prince of the Northern Territories and his entourage will be arriving in three weeks.”

  “How delightful.” I scowled at him when he simply laughed and chucked me under the chin. “He’s so pretentious, Grégoire. Both he and his wife.”

  “Then you’ll be delighted to know Nicolae has set aside Marcela.” Guiding me to the hall table, he handed me my gloves, waiting until I tugged them on before draping the ermine-lined cape over my shoulders. “Gossip has it he is currently pursuing a young woman with the delightful and somewhat ironic name of Chastity.”

  “Hmm.” Reaching up, I smoothed down a single lock of his bright blond hair, making a mental note to remind him to see the hairdresser. While the King was fairly lax for a monarch, he did have rigorous standards for the personal appearance of his courtiers. “You’ll eat when we return this evening.”

  “If you insist, darling.” Gesturing toward the front door, he said, “Now, although I would be content to wait for you for eternity, I do not believe the other opera patrons feel the same way.”

  “Miss Marguerite!” Even winded from what was, for her, a veritable dash down the hall and a flight of stairs, Adelaide’s voice boomed off the walls. Wincing and rubbing at her back again, she huffed and puffed across the marble floor. Dropping a half curtsy before the Duke, she turned her attention to me. “Your visitor.”

  “What?” After a moment of confusion, I sighed in annoyance. “A card, Adelaide. We are already late.”

  “I don’t believe she has a card, Miss Marguerite.” She coughed pointedly before nodding toward the side parlor. “And pardon me for being forward but I don’t know if she’ll be able to come back later.”

  “I see.” I glanced at the Duke. “Do you mind if we miss the first act?”

  “Not in the least.” Lifting my hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss over my white-gloved knuckles. “I’ve seen Orfeo ed Euridice so often I could practically play the male lead myself.”

  “I’ll be as quick as possible.” Without removing my gloves or cloak, I made my way to the small room I used for receiving business guests. I dropped a single knock on the door before opening it and stepping inside. “I understand you wish to see me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The girl, for she didn’t look a day over sixteen, sprang to her feet, her hands fluttering over the faded cotton of her ill-fitting dress. “I was wondering if you were….” She faltered, swallowing once before continuing. “If you had any room in your school.”

  Instead of answering, I crossed over to her, my heels making no sound on the thick carpet. With her gaze locked firmly on the floor, I was able to examine her without any thought to her possible discomfort.

  She was petite, even taking in to account my own unusual height. Even without my shoes, I doubted she would reach my shoulder. Her skin was streaked with dirt but seemed fairly unblemished and carried the faint glow of youth. Her hair hung down her back in a single thick b
raid, a few wisps of jet black framing her face. The dress did little to disguise the overly generous curves of her body and even less to flatter them.

  All in all, while she was not unattractive, neither was she attractive enough.

  Her face, then, would be the deciding factor.

  Careful not to smudge my gloves, I tipped her chin up. Her mouth was decidedly full, almost pouty, while her nose was an almost delicate snub. Her lashes where they lay against her cheeks were thick and dark.

  I sighed and clucked my tongue. “Look at me, child.”

  When she did, revealing eyes as deeply green as the most prized of emeralds, I caught my breath.

  She was perfect for Gaston.

  “What is your name, child?”

  “Harriet, ma’am.”

  “Do you have family, Harriet?”

  “No, ma’am.” She swallowed, her lower lip trembling. “Pa died during the War and Ma died right after Lincoln surrendered. Or at least that’s what they told me at the orphanage.”

  “And your age?” I half-glanced at the clock, noting the time. If the roads were clear, it was possible Grégoire and I would only miss the opening overture. “Quickly, now. I have obligations of my own I must attend to.”

  “Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in the spring.”

  “Good.” Although the law stated any person over the age of fourteen could enter in to work in the pleasure district, I personally refused any younger than sixteen. It was the tiniest of salves for my conscience. “Finally, you are aware this is not a finishing school in the traditional sense of the word, yes? If I take you as a student, you will be fed and clothed and well-educated in all things but most specifically in how to be an ideal mistress.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Harriet lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, the tiniest spark of fire lighting her eyes. “I know what you train girls for.”

  “And you’re also aware you will never be able to go back to the human district? That if you do, you will either be ostracized, or worse, killed?”