She returned to her red leather chair and sat down before giving her parting words. “I hope to keep you here for some time, Suzette. Do your best. If not, I will be forced to let you go, especially if Lord Holland finds displeasure in you.”
She didn’t actually intend to let Suzette go that quickly after her first night, no matter what the outcome. However, a small veiled threat on her part would serve to give the girl incentive to carry out her duties with more vigor.
“That is all. I suggest you ready yourself for the night. Nadine has been given the dress I chose for you to wear. I’ve already spoken to her about it. I expect you in the parlor at six thirty sharp!”
“Yes, Madame.”
Suzette rose and left her office, closing the door behind her. She took every word of warning to heart. If she failed this evening’s performance, the woman would kick her out of the brothel. Not wishing to spend the remainder of the night curled up in the alley, she decided to do her best. She only hoped she wouldn’t die of fear beforehand or that her first time wouldn’t hurt like her roommate warned.
She returned to her room and was greeted by Nadine. Lying upon Suzette’s bed was an ivory-colored French gown, decorated with pearl beads around the bodice. The shoulders draped low, the sleeves were short, the cut was revealing. A long row of satin buttons lined the back of the dress. Suzette, stunned by its beauty, couldn’t resist picking up the garment. Though it was ivory in color, it looked like a queen’s wedding gown. She brushed her fingers across the smooth fabric.
“It’s quite gorgeous. Did you choose the color?” Her voice shook as she asked the question. Scarlet red would have been more appropriate for the occasion, she thought.
“No. Madame Laurent did.”
Reluctantly, she looked at Nadine. “You’ll need to help me with the buttons in the back.” Suzette undressed down to her corset and slipped into the dress.
“I heard she procured Lord Holland for you,” Nadine replied softly, buttoning the back of the dress. “He’s a good man. His father is a Duke, but Robert visits here often.”
“Robert?” Suzette questioned. “Is that his name?”
“Yes. I’ve been with him a few times. Madame Laurent did well arranging him for you. There are some who turn your stomach.”
Finished with the long row of buttons, Nadine turned her around and arranged the curls of Suzette’s hair. She fluffed her auburn tresses on the sides for a little more volume, and then smiled at how pretty Suzette looked adorned in ivory like a porcelain wedding doll.
“You look like a scared rat, honey. You need to relax. It’s not all that bad, believe me. He’ll be gentle, if I know him.”
Suzette shook her head, unable to speak. Her throat had closed minutes before, and she wondered if she would even be able to utter a word to the man when the time came.
Nadine took a bottle of perfume from her vanity and gave Suzette a few drops in strategic places. She also dabbed a bit more rouge on her white cheeks drained of blood. On the other hand, red blotches started to creep up her neck from nerves. It was hopeless. Pale or red, nothing was to be done. A familiar twinge of jealousy over not being queen of the Chambre crept into Nadine’s heart.
“We should go now. It’s almost six thirty. Laurent wants us in the selection parlor before seven o’clock. She’ll come and get you when the time comes to meet your patron.”
Suzette followed Nadine out of their bedchamber and down the long corridor to the grand staircase. The closer her feet came to the foyer, the more feeling drained from her legs. Her entire body grew numb. The trip felt like a death march, and Nadine had been chosen to lead her to the executioner.
They entered the parlor, and she observed the entire selection room filled with voluptuous women. All the girls lounged either on the settees or on chairs. Some stood in groups chatting. Adorned in their finery, the stifling scent of perfume gagged Suzette as she entered. She admired how gorgeous they appeared, most carrying fans, fluttering about like butterflies. Some wore exotic costumes to match their rooms, and Suzette was fascinated by the variety of ethnic women, most of whom she had not met.
Madame Laurent appeared to be examining each like goods on a shelf for sale. Suzette’s stomach churned from nerves, and a slight wave of nausea flowed through her body. Too nervous to sit, she stood with Nadine by a large potted palm next to the wall. Mindlessly, she reached out and began fiddling with one of the beads on her bodice.
When she took a closer look at some of the woman, Suzette couldn’t help but notice some wore practically nothing. The kitchen staff wandered out to speak with Madame Laurent, and Suzette nearly died. They were topless. Nadine quickly caught a glance of Suzette’s astonished face and chuckled.
“Oh, sorry,” she whispered apologetically. “I forgot to mention the men are served by topless waitresses.”
The nakedness appalled Suzette. It was then, however, she noted that she was the best dressed in the entire room. Indeed, she was clothed as a queen in order to play her part, and others were dressed to play whatever fantasy their room provided.
The clock on the fireplace mantel chimed seven o’clock, and Madame Laurent opened the front door. The hour arrived, and men started pouring through the entrance way. Hostesses greeted the patrons with smiles, took their hats, canes, and coats, and one by one, they entered the selection parlor drooling like a pack of wolves.
Suzette observed the scene with interest. Some went directly to certain women. A few words were spoken between them, and then they disappeared from the parlor and ascended the grand staircase together. Other girls giggled and flirted with the patrons, who seemed content to wander among the perfumed beauties, with drinks in hand, before choosing one that caught their fancy.
The fear of what lay ahead shot another wave of nausea through Suzette’s stomach. She saw an empty chair and scurried over to sit down. Nadine had already been spirited off by some aristocrat, leaving her alone to fend for herself. As soon as she sat down and lowered her gaze to the floor, she saw two booted feet standing in front of her. Suzette slowly lifted her head and beheld an overweight, middle-aged man whose appearance made her skin crawl. She prayed to God it wasn’t Robert Holland.
In the meantime, Madame Laurent lingered in the foyer greeting guests and collecting payment. She wanted to welcome Lord Holland personally, but he was running a bit late. She glanced into the parlor taking a quick assessment, happy to see girls were already off servicing the men. She quickly returned her attention to the doorway when her favorite voice rang out.
“Good evening, Mademoiselles!” Lord Holland walked over to Madame Laurent and lifted her hand to his lips. “Madame.” Giving her a wink, he teased her as usual. “It’s been quite some time since we’ve met.”
“Oh, you jest, Robert!” She laughed at his antics, which were his usual routine. He flung his overcoat from his shoulders and tossed it, along with his cane, to the waiting hostess. She ceremoniously caught it as usual with a giggle.
“Fine catch, my dear!”
Bridgette noticed that he was obviously in a gregarious mood. When he had finished handing them to the hostess, he turned his attention to the parlor for a quick peek. The usual faces smiled enticingly at his arrival, but his eyes searched the room for a new one.
“I can see you are curious, Robert.”
“Where is she?”
“There, dear, sitting on the settee with the look of horror across her face. She’s in the ivory gown.”
Robert squinted, trying to capture a clear sight of his purchase. He caught a glimpse of her attractive, but distraught face.
“She’s gorgeous, Madame, but she looks not yet sixteen.”
“She’s of age, I assure you.” She pulled him to the side away from the view of the parlor. “You have the Louis XV Chambre. Why don’t you head upstairs and wait for her? I’ll pry her away from the Marquis and send her up.”
“That sounds reasonable.” He turned around and quickly strode up the staircase
and disappeared out of sight.
Madame Laurent returned to the selection parlor to pry Suzette’s current admirer away. Marquis Barone was undoubtedly one of her least liked patrons. The girls found him revolting, and so did she. His character was that of a fat buffoon, whose ability to care for his physical appearance lacked considerably. However, Bridgette was not one to send away those with money. He had richly invested in her brothel and deserved service just as much as the other aristocrats—no matter how unpleasant that task might be.
“Marquis, good to see you this evening,” she said, touching him on his arm and diverting his stare from Suzette’s breasts.
“Madame, I see we have a new Mademoiselle tonight,” he smiled.
“Oui, but I’m afraid you’re too late for this beauty, Marquis. She’s already spoken for.”
A look of disappointment flashed across his face, and his shoulders drooped in a dejected manner.
“Very well,” he said. Before searching out other pleasures, he reached out his hand and touched Suzette’s chin. “Such a shame,” he said, looking down into her frightened face. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps next time, I shall ravish your body, oui?”
Madame Laurent heard his whisper and answered for Suzette. “Perhaps. Pardon us, if you will, Marquis. I shall return shortly, and we can talk about your choice of one of my other fine ladies. I need to escort this lady to her waiting patron.”
She took Suzette by the arm and led her out of the parlor to the bottom of the grand staircase. “I’m sorry, my dear. The Marquis is not one of my favorites.”
Suzette watched Madame Laurent take one last assessment of her appearance before leading her up the grand staircase to her waiting patron. Her hand brushed a stray curl from Suzette’s cheek and arranged a few strands strategically by her plump breasts that spilled over her bodice. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything about the red blotches creeping up her neck from nerves.
“As I stated earlier, I’ve procured Lord Holland for this evening. You shall not be disappointed. He’s one of the more satisfying and kind patrons we have.” Madame Laurent grasped Suzette’s cold hands in reassurance before announcing her last instructions.
“I know you’re apprehensive, Suzette, but this is your job. I have done my best to provide for you. Do your best to gratify him, in spite of your obvious fright. After all, this is a business. If my customers are not satisfied, I will not be happy.” Madame Laurent released her hands and turned to climb the stairs ahead of Suzette. “Come along now. He’s waiting.”
Suzette sighed, reluctant to follow the brothel mistress to the waiting patron. She was dressed as a French queen and heading for the Louis XV Chambre, but her legs felt like lead weights with each step she took. Her deflowering had arrived, and Suzette was terrified.
Chapter Twelve
Robert entered the dimly lit room illuminated by a small electric lamp on a side table and lit candles on the mantel. The lighting created a golden hue throughout the entire chamber, emphasizing the French king’s favorite colors.
He felt like getting comfortable, so he untied the cravat around his neck and pulled the irritating cloth across his flesh until free. The tie was tossed onto the nightstand, and he loosened his shirt collar until it flopped open revealing his wide neck. A few chest hairs were visible over the first button of his white linen shirt. He revealed much more after he slipped the second button through the eyelet. The coolness against his skin felt refreshing. Robert took off his black suit coat, and draped the garment over the back of a nearby chair.
He definitely needed a drink, so he walked over to the crystal decanter and poured a glass of red wine. After a few sips, he could taste it was a rare vintage. Madame Laurent spared no expense for her guests. The brothel was luxurious entertainment for Robert while in Paris and a well-needed escape from his stuffy life in England. The gold-gilded, flamboyant Parisian décor surpassed his dull Tudor-style estate. It was a king’s room indeed, and Robert felt like one for the moment.
His stay in Paris had neared its end, and though he was looking forward to the next few hours of relaxation, he found himself consumed with thoughts of home. A few days ago, he received a communiqué from his father requesting his immediate return. The old man always had a way of dampening his holiday spirit.
Since his routine in life would soon return, Madame Laurent’s invitation to spend his last three nights enjoying the pleasures of the flesh arrived at a good time. A mischievous smile burst across his face as he thought of the horror his mother would exhibit if she knew of his present whereabouts.
“600 francs,” he mumbled aloud. “You would think she’d pay me for my services.” After all, he was about to do her a service, wasn’t he?
Robert patiently waited for his guest to arrive, but couldn’t shake an underlying concern about his purchase. The girl he saw in the parlor appeared much younger than eighteen. Though he had no reason to distrust Bridgette’s assurances, he couldn’t shake a feeling of uneasiness. Her face held an innocence that made him question why she resided within these walls, even though the explanation he was given at the Jockey Club seemed quite reasonable.
The women he had enjoyed in the past—especially Nadine—were experienced and hardened to the life of prostitution. He felt no guilt whatsoever in seeking pleasure from their bodies they willing gave. They enjoyed their profession and shared his bed for whatever pittance Madame Laurent gave them. It dawned on him, as he stood pondering over his glass of Chardonnay, that he had never asked what the women were paid out of the francs he so freely spent each tryst.
He shrugged off the thought and sat down on the settee facing the fireplace to relax. The silence of the room was deafening, except for the tick tock of the clock on the mantel. His eagerness to take a young girl’s virginity grew by the minute, until finally a knock came at the door. He jumped to his feet in an attention stance, surprised over his foolish reaction over their arrival.
After clearing his throat and running his fingers through his blond hair, he walked over to the door and swung it open. There on the other side stood Madame Laurent with his purchase at her side.
“Lord Holland, may I introduce to you Suzette Rousseau.”
Suzette turned and looked at Madame Laurent, who gave her a little push with her hand. Robert watched the young woman, who was stiff as a board, take tiny steps inside. Before he had the opportunity to bid her goodbye, Madame Laurent grabbed the doorknobs and closed the double door behind her. The latched clicked.
Awkward and tongue-tied, he watched Suzette stare at the floor, obviously afraid to lift her eyes or take a step in his direction. He felt like an ass, so he just stood there for a moment. She didn’t appear quite as young as he had thought earlier. It was obvious by the makeup and style of hair that Madame Laurent had done her best to make the Suzette look older than her years. However, Robert was keenly aware, innocence was innocence, and it permeated the room with its stifling presence.
Still holding a glass of wine in his hand, he knew he had to do or say something to break the silence. He reached for her hand, and as with any other woman, he grasped it and brought it to his lips. Finally, her timid eyes lifted to look at his face, and he saw her astonishment.
“I believe a Frenchman would say to such a beautiful woman, ‘Enchante, Mademoiselle.’”
His English accent did nothing to help his charismatic, French-like behavior appear authentic. He kissed her tiny hand and held it for a moment until he finally glimpsed a small accepting smile rise from Suzette’s quivering lips. Her cold hand trembled in his own, so he tried to assure her. “Don’t be nervous. I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes latched onto his, while he admired with fascination her curly auburn tresses that cascaded over her shoulders. Enticed to reach out and touch the glowing silken locks, he picked up a few strands between his fingers. Suzette flinched.
“Your hair is gorgeous,” he whispered. He smiled while looking at her flawless complexi
on. “And you are very attractive.”
“Thank you.”
Finally, the frightened Mademoiselle spoke! He reached for her hand again, grasping it gently, and led her to the gold velvet settee in front of the fireplace.
“Please sit down,” he said softly, hoping to relieve her fears. He walked to the side table and poured another glass of wine, refilled his own, and brought it back to her.
“Here, drink this. I insist. It will help you relax.”
Suzette reluctantly looked at the wine. Her indecision was obvious, so he moved the glass closer until she finally took it in her hand.
“Thank you, my lord.”
He couldn’t believe she called him lord. He sat down next to her, and immediately put a stop to formalities of any kind.
“Please, drop the titles. I’m Robert. You have my permission to call me by my first name.”
She grinned, then slowly brought the glass of wine to her lips and sipped the liquid. Her endless gaze into his blue eyes told him that she was fascinated by what she saw. Most Parisian women were taken by his fairness of skin, blond hair, and ocean-colored irises.
He leaned back at the other end of the settee. Suzette scooted in the opposite direction. Robert sat quietly for a few minutes, taking small sips of wine, while he observed the beautiful creature that he would soon know intimately. He studied every feature of her face and delicate demeanor. Her unblemished quality pained him, and he began to question why she had chosen to become a prostitute. Though he sat within a brothel, he wasn’t a brute by any means. Deep down inside, he was still an English gentleman. Surely, she deserved some respect.
“So tell me, Suzette, where are you from? Have you always lived in Paris?” By the look on her face, his question startled her. He felt somewhat offended that she perhaps thought he would take her virginity without any civility beforehand.
A meek voice answered. “I was born and raised in Paris.”
The Price of Innocence (The Legacy Series) Page 12
