Charity House Courtship

“Blackmail?” Laney’s breath clogged in her throat. The nerve of the man. The gall. Next, he’d be calling her out for prostitution.

“Or...” he leaned over her “...the judge was soliciting your services for the evening.”

And there it was. The nasty accusation she’d feared. She barely resisted the urge to slap him, knowing the gesture would serve no purpose. Which only added to her frustration. “You scoundrel.”

He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “Either way, neither activity is allowed in my hotel. So, again, I suggest you hand over the money with no more fuss so I may return it to Judge Greene.”

“You seem to take great pleasure in thinking the worst in people.”

“Not all people.”

Out of patience herself, she placed her palms on his chest and shoved. Hard.

He didn’t budge an inch. Provoking beyond measure, yet invaluable information for the future.

“I know firsthand what women like you are about, Miss O’Connor.”

“Making assumptions again?”

“Absolutely. But I will admit, as reprehensible as I find your choice of lifestyle, I’m certain there are others who find you alluring and appreciate your, shall we call them...talents.”

Laney sidled to her left.

Dupree scooted her back to the right.

“Talents?” she asked in an overly polite tone. “What sort of talents are we talking about?” As if she didn’t know what he meant.

“For one, you dress like a well-bred lady with an accomplished eye for style.” He dropped his gaze a moment. “Your present attire not included.”

This time, she strayed to the right.

He hauled her back to center. “You speak with perfect diction, somewhat uncommon in these parts. And, most recently, you climbed out of my window with the finesse of a—”

“Skilled acrobat?”

“Precisely.”

Not sure what she heard in his voice—grudging respect, censure?—she granted him her most unpleasant smile, the one she reserved for bankers and highborn gentleman in red silk vests.

Finally, an idea came to her. She could still get away with the money—her money—but before she resorted to such an underhanded tactic, she had to try to escape in a fair manner one last time.

Didn’t she always tell the children to think before they acted? Didn’t she warn them of the dangers of sinful behavior? How could Laney ignore everything she tried to teach the children and still face them in the morning?

Determined to hold onto the remaining scraps of her integrity, she scrambled to her right. Again, Dupree pushed her back to her original position.

So be it.

I tried, Lord. Truly, I tried. I pray, please, forgive me for what I’m about to do.

“You know, Dupree, I have other, equally impressive...talents.”

“Oh? Do you cook, sew, ride a horse with great skill?”

Sniffing at his attempt to goad her, she took a step toward him and grasped the sides of his vest. “You are becoming redundant.”

“As are you, honey.”

Honey. She was really starting to dislike that word. Nevertheless, she touched her fingertip to the top button of his vest.

Eyes lowering to half-mast, he captured her hand in a light but firm grip. “I wouldn’t advise continuing down this path, Miss O’Connor.”

Allowing him to misunderstand her intent, she moved a step closer. “You sure you don’t want to see what I can do?”

His look turned sardonic. “I’m afraid I must decline further demonstration of this particular skill.”

“Once again,” she tugged her hand free, “you have chosen to misread the situation.”

He swallowed. Once. Twice. Then again more slowly. Very slowly. “By all means, honey, prove me wrong.”

“Gladly.” She shifted her weight, planting her left foot slightly behind her right. To keep his attention off her new position, she toyed with his lapel again. “You see,” she said in a light, airy tone. “When cornered, I fight like I do everything else.”

“You lie and cheat?”

“No.” She gave him her most brilliant smile and took a step back. “I win.”

She raised her right knee and, leading with her heel, slammed her foot into his chest. The blow landed exactly as her friend had taught her.

Caught off guard, Dupree stumbled backward. His gasp of surprise wasn’t as gratifying as Laney would have predicted.

This was her one chance. With a quick snatch, she retrieved her bundled dress and tore around the corner at breakneck speed. She quickened her pace to a flat-out run as the bellowed promise to hunt her down like a rabid dog nipped at her heels.

* * *

Minutes later, Marc charged wordlessly to the back of his hotel. Holding on to his anger—barely—he released the lock and with a violent shove, plowed into his office. The earsplitting crack of door meeting wall punctuated his foul mood. Unfortunately, the jarring noise did nothing to eliminate the reality of the last ten minutes. Not since Pearl ran off with his fortune could Marc recall a time he’d suffered so complete a defeat.

Oh, he’d known Miss O’Connor would attempt to steal away with what she claimed was her rightful possession. He’d even expected her to resort to whatever means necessary to escape. Her kind always thought in terms of survival. What he hadn’t imagined was to find room 912 empty and Joshua Greene long gone by the time Marc had arrived.

Had the judge known he was coming to confront him?

Not possible. There had been no time or opportunity for Miss O’Connor to warn him.

Rubbing the spot where she’d landed her heel to his chest, Marc let out a frustrated hiss. How could such a tiny, delicate woman land a blow with so much force? She hadn’t hurt him, not by half. He’d suffered far worse from rowdy drunks and mean-spirited outlaws. Nevertheless, she’d taken him by surprise, enough to throw him off-balance and make her getaway.

The situation defied logic. And Marc was a man who relied solely on logic. Emotion, blind faith, he allowed neither in his life.

Shifting his angry gaze around what used to be his highly organized personal sanctuary, he slammed his fist into his open palm. He’d left the woman alone for fifteen minutes and she’d wreaked havoc. Risking a step through the clothes scattered on the floor, he tripped over a very delicate, very female slipper.

He kicked the offensive shoe out of his way and eyed the strewn papers at his feet. Papers that had once been in neat piles on his desk.

“Did she leave nothing untouched?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Marc fought for control. But then he spotted a slip of paper propped against a pile of books on his desk. A second later, he whipped the note from its perch with as much intensity as he’d used to enter the room.

If the miserable handwriting was any indication, Miss O’Connor had scrawled the words with as little care as she’d given his office.

Marc’s irritation only increased as he read her parting jab.

My Dear Mr. Dupree,

Thank you for your splendid hospitality this evening.

But I’m afraid I must decline your offer to remain any longer. I have a much more pressing engagement with your window.

Yours most humbly,

Miss Laney O’Connor

Crushing the paper in his fist, Marc stifled the urge to take off after the woman without formulating a plan of action. Not the most logical move. Calling upon his well-honed control, he shut his eyes and released all the air from his lungs.

Dark, ugly thoughts linked together in his mind until one emerged over all the others. Laney O’Connor had chosen the wrong hotel, on the wrong evening, to play out her little intrigue with a federal judge.

Five years ago, Marc had embarked on the greatest debacle of his life—marriage to Pearl LaRue. The events of the last hour merely added another layer of indignity to his rash, youthful mistake of thinking he could turn a bad woman good.

Having been raised by loving, Christian parents, Marc had operated on the belief that all fall short of the glory of God and that the Lord’s unending grace was administered through His people. People with the means and desire to serve.

He’d been naive, painfully so. But Marc had learned his lesson, thanks to Pearl’s betrayal. When she’d grown bored with him, she hadn’t simply run off with another man. She’d robbed Marc blind. She’d emptied his bank accounts, his personal safe and, most humbling, his wallet—then she’d found someone else to share her spoils.

Marc’s resulting years of poverty had taught him well. Back on his feet, his coffers fuller than ever, he was no longer in the business of saving souls.

That didn’t mean he didn’t offer women of questionable virtue a chance to change their lives. He provided them with an honest living, but left the condition of their souls to the local pastor. If they chose to return to their old way of life, who was he to stop them?

Which begged the question. Why was he so disillusioned with Laney O’Connor’s behavior tonight? What about the woman made Marc want to give her the benefit of the doubt?

Was it the look of desperation he’d caught snatches of in her startling gaze?

He knew better than to trust her, or her lies. And yet, here he stood, on the night of what would have been his wedding anniversary, wanting to believe in a woman no different from the one he’d married all those years ago. He’d thought he’d learned his lesson.

An uncomfortable ache spread through him as he realized just how much he’d wanted Laney O’Connor to be the innocent she’d proclaimed to be over and over again.

Even now, the thought of her making her way through the Denver streets, alone, with all that money, at this late hour, didn’t sit well with him. He—

A loud rap against the doorjamb knocked Marc out of his musing.

“Mr. Dupree, I’m sorry she got away.” Hank’s gaze tracked through the room. “She...I mean, I never thought she’d climb out of the window. I thought—”

Marc lifted a hand to stop the stilted flow of words. “I know, Hank. She fooled us both.” Remembering the way she’d toyed with his vest, drawing his attention away from the situation, then unceremoniously kicking him in the chest, he shook his head. “In more ways than one.”

“She seemed, I don’t know, honest.” Hank visibly cringed as his gaze landed on the open safe. “I never would have taken her for a woman of such questionable...character.”

The same thought had gnawed at Marc from the start, but he’d learned long ago that people were rarely what they seemed. He shouldn’t have been surprised by Miss O’Connor’s deception. But he was. Shockingly, profoundly, inexplicably shaken to the core.

“The world is full of dishonest people,” he said for Hank’s benefit as well as his own.

All sin and fall short of the glory of God.

His mother’s favorite Bible verse and a truth that pertained to Marc far more often than not. Despite his efforts to remain above reproach, he made mistakes. Perhaps knowing he often fell short explained why Marc still wanted to believe Miss O’Connor wasn’t what she seemed. That she was...somehow...more.

“I wonder how she figured out the combination,” Hank said, still eyeing the open safe.

Marc rubbed his palm over his chest. “She watched your fingers.”

“You...” Hank blinked at him. “You knew?”

Marc nodded. Pearl had pulled a similar stunt.

The abrupt silence that fell over the room stood in stark contrast to the noise echoing from the main part of the hotel.

In the ensuing hush Marc came to a decision. “I’m going out. While I’m gone, switch that,” he pointed to the safe, “with the one in my rooms upstairs.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Marc paced to the doorway. Hank stopped him before he could leave. “Where you headed? In case I need you.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, Marc stated the obvious. “Hollady Street.” Where the bulk of Denver’s brothels were located.

“The Row? You think Miss O’Connor lives...there?”

“It’s the most logical place for a woman like her.”

Not that Marc thought she was a regular, run-of-the-mill prostitute. Considering her mode of dress and impeccable speech, he feared she was something far worse. A madam. One who employed the kind of girls Marc hired away for their own good.

This was no longer about money. In truth, his clash with Miss O’Connor had never been about the contents of her reticule. But rather, how and why she’d acquired the large sum.

Marc wasn’t through with the woman.

Once he located her on The Row he would explain to her, in excruciating detail, why she could not use his hotel to conduct her unsavory business ever again. No matter how discreet or desperate she might be. He would then seek out Judge Greene and explain the situation to him as well.

This wasn’t personal. Hotel Dupree’s sterling reputation was at stake, a reputation Marc had spent three years honing to perfection.

“One thing’s for certain, Hank. I’ll root our little fox out of her lair before daybreak. And when I’m through with her, she’ll be sorry she ever strayed into my hotel.”

Hank’s smile bowed with the same grim determination Marc savored in his own heart. “Happy hunting, boss.”

Chapter Four

Home at last, Laney stood at the bottom of the front steps and admired the three-story house glowing golden under the streetlamp. She couldn’t help but smile at the house that was now a home for nearly thirty abandoned children.

After four lean years, and two strapping loans, Laney had turned the ordinary structure into an enchanting brick mansion. The result was as fine as any house owned by her fashionable neighbors in the Highlands of North Denver. She’d come a long way from the grubby mining camps and saloons of her childhood.

In her overzealous attempt to provide more than a roof and bed for the children, she’d left no detail to chance. She’d furnished the twelve bedrooms, two sitting rooms, and three parlors with tasteful furniture. She’d hung expensive wallpaper, ordered rugs straight from Paris, and purchased assorted fineries for every room.

Perhaps she’d gone a bit overboard.

How could she not? What better way to demonstrate God’s majesty than by providing the children with unspeakable beauty and grandeur in their everyday lives? Lives that had been filled with far too much squalor and despair prior to arriving at Charity House.

An image of Marc Dupree splintered through her thoughts and a sudden, ugly dose of conscience whipped through Laney. She hadn’t behaved completely without fault tonight. In fact, she’d been intentionally misleading, deceptive even, practically lying to the man. Just how far was she willing to go to save Charity House from foreclosure?

The front door opened a crack, rescuing Laney from further reflection on the consequences of her behavior this evening. Katherine Taylor, the young woman she’d left in charge, came out onto the porch. “Well? What happened?”

Laney skipped up the steps. “We did it, Katherine.” She pulled her friend into a fierce hug. “Our worries are finally over.”

“You got the money? He gave you all of it?” Katherine pulled back and searched Laney’s face. “All five hundred dollars? How did you convince him?”

“The details aren’t important.”

Stepping farther back, Katherine scanned Laney from head to toe. “What happened to Sally’s dress?”

“Plans changed.” Laney held up the gold silk bundle. “I had to switch clothes at the last minute.”

Katherine planted her balled fists on her hips. “You didn’t do anything unlawful, did you?”

“Of course not.”

The truth, up to a point. She’d only allowed Dupree to think she’d planned to conduct a shameful act with Judge Greene. Her actions had been misleading, but not criminal.

Considering how Katherine would worry herself sick if she knew the full story, Laney decided to keep the details of her encounter with Dupree to herself. “I have in my possession the money we need to save Charity House. Now stop with the questions and enjoy our moment of triumph.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled. But why won’t you look me in the eye? I’m almost twenty. Plenty old enough to handle whatever it is you’re hiding from me.”

Laney squared her shoulders. But to her chagrin, she couldn’t hold Katherine’s gaze longer than a second or two. It was no use pretending all was well. She was going to have to tell her friend at least part of what had occurred this evening. “Don’t start making judgments before you hear the whole story.”

“Oh, Laney, what did you do?”

“Only what was necessary.”

“No, I’m sure you did more, as always. Look at this place.” She wound her hand in a circle. “It’s a mansion. Orphanages are usually full of filth, misery and despair, especially for the likes of us, the unwanted children of prostitutes.”

Uncomfortable with the turn in conversation, Laney grimaced. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“No, you just made a dream come true for children who have lived without hope most of their lives. You are a good, Christian woman with a big heart, Laney O’Connor.”

If only that were true. “Don’t make me out to be more than I am. When my mother moved us to Mattie’s brothel, I couldn’t get out fast enough. I didn’t want to go it alone, so I took the rest of the children with me. That’s selfish, not noble.”

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know how hard you’ve worked to make Charity House a reality. You wouldn’t intentionally jeopardize it by...” Katherine’s voice trailed off. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

Laney looked over her shoulder, praying she’d done enough to ensure Dupree hadn’t followed her. She’d darted up, down and across several streets, then doubled back three more times.

But just in case...

“Let’s head inside for the rest of this conversation.”

Frowning, Katherine allowed Laney to hook their arms together. “We’re going to keep Charity House, right?”

The quick flash of terror in the younger woman’s eyes, the same one Laney saw every time she looked in the mirror, called to the part of her that would do anything to save the orphanage. Unfortunately, her efforts never proved enough. Oh, she provided a home, material luxuries, and even love, but she had yet to figure out a way to erase the one thing the orphans all shared.

Uncertainty.

Mistrust and fear lived in all their gazes, in their very souls. It was one thing to teach the children about Christ’s love, quite another for them to accept the Lord in their hearts, fully, and without reservation.

If only it were easier for them to believe they mattered, truly mattered, as precious children of God. But their pasts didn’t allow for a straightforward, trouble-free path to salvation. The choice to believe was an individual matter, one Laney couldn’t settle for anyone but herself, despite her desire to do so for the children in her care.

When she’d stared into Dupree’s eyes, Laney had seen a similar restlessness and need for peace.

Could that have been why she’d come so close to sharing her troubles with him? Because something deep within her had recognized a hurting soul like her own?

No. Ridiculous, dangerous thinking. Clearly, she’d lost her perspective. Thanks to the harsh reality of life as the daughter of a prostitute who’d killed herself with too much laudanum, Laney knew better than to rely on a man, any man. After witnessing her mother’s choice of lifestyle and eventual destruction, how could Laney toss away her caution after one evening in the company of Marc Dupree?

A breeze kicked up, rustling the bushes lining the porch. The ominous quiver in her heart urged Laney to pull Katherine toward the house. “Inside. Quick.”

“Why the urgency?” Katherine looked behind her. “Laney? Are you in trouble?”

Concentrating on hustling the other woman inside the house, Laney tugged harder. “Quickly, Katherine. Quickly.”

Once in the front parlor, with the dark night firmly locked outside where it belonged, Laney tossed Sally’s dress on a blue velvet couch. Katherine moved through the room lighting candles. Laney waited, savoring the moment of serenity passing through her. How she loved the soft, warm glow of real candlelight.

Katherine lit the last candle, turned and centered her gaze on Laney’s bare feet. “What happened to your shoes?”

Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, Laney moved deeper in the room. “Nothing to concern yourself over.”

“Perhaps it’s time you shared the details of your evening with me.”

Laney worked her reticule free from her wrist then handed over the bag. “This is all you need to know.”

Fingers shaking, Katherine opened the satchel and caught her breath inside an audible gasp.

“It’s real,” Laney said with a smile.

Almost reverently, Katherine touched the money with a delicate caress, as though afraid it would disappear if she handled it improperly. “Oh, Laney.” Unshed tears pooled in her eyes. “Our troubles are truly over.”

Drawing closer, Laney peered inside the reticule as well. Why didn’t she feel the same joy she heard in Katherine’s voice? Perhaps because she’d come so close to losing it all. She hadn’t been prepared for Marc Dupree. Or her strange reaction to him. Or the inexplicable need to profess her situation and ask for his assistance, no matter how fleeting.

A thousand ripples of unease churned in her stomach, reminding her of the weakness she’d discovered in herself tonight, the unthinkable wish to rely on a man, a man with impossible standards she could never hope to meet.

“All right, Laney. What happened? You might as well tell me whatever it is you’re hiding behind that scowl.”

Sighing, she lowered to a brocade settee and gave up pretending everything had gone as planned. “I went to the Hotel Dupree to meet Judge Greene at the agreed upon time...”

She stopped midsentence, unsure how to continue. How could she tell Katherine about Marc Dupree and their strange run-in? “I don’t know if you should hear this, Katherine. You’re not like the rest of us.”

“Of course I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Laney softened her words with a smile. “Your mother only turned to prostitution after your father died. She never made you live among it. That alone makes you different. You’re also formally educated. You went to that prestigious school back East. What was it called?”

“Miss Lindsay’s Select School for Young Ladies.” Katherine sat beside Laney and set the reticule between them. “But that was my past. I’m here now, as much a part of Charity House as the rest of the orphans.”

“Not by choice. You’d still be living in Boston, probably married to a wealthy gentleman, if that school hadn’t expelled you when they found out about your mother’s profession. Even now, you could get a teaching job in any number of places.”

Eyes blinking rapidly, Katherine swiped at her wet cheeks. “But Charity House is my home. Where I belong. I’d do anything to keep this orphanage running.”

“As long as it was ethical.”

“Well, yes, that goes without saying.” Katherine took Laney’s hand. “All right, enough stalling. Let’s have the rest of it. You went to the hotel, and...”

Laney bit her bottom lip as she searched for the right words. Katherine might have been forced to return to Denver, but she was still a product of her years back East, educated, moral, raised with Christian values, an example for the others. Would she understand the desperation that had led Laney to withhold information from Dupree?

She didn’t want to find out. Not tonight. “And...the judge handed over the money. His debt is canceled. Charity House is saved. The end.”

“So, it’s that simple.”

Laney drew a quick breath of air. “Yes.”

“Don’t you think I deserve to hear the rest, the portion you’re hiding from me? Please, I’ve lived with the fear of losing Charity House just as deeply as you have. Maybe more.” A shadow fell over her face. “I have no skills, no real life experiences to speak of.”

“You have an education. You could teach school, just as you’ve taught me.”