Almost Yours (Ladies of Scandal Book 3)

by Hilly Mason

  “Do ye ken of anywhere safe to go while we figure out what to do next?”

  Jack considered for a moment. “Yes. But you might not like it.”

  “Oh, aye? Try me.”

  “It’s a brothel.”

  Isla raised an eyebrow. “A brothel?”

  “Yes. I have friends here.”

  She raised her other brow. “And how often to do ye visit this place?”

  “Not often. I mean, I don’t use their services,” he fumbled for words, feeling his face grow hot. “I’m friends with the owner. She’ll give us a place to stay while we figure things out.”

  When they arrived at the brothel, Madame Truffle greeted them with an air of reluctance.

  “Does this have to do with Mr. Townshend’s murder?” she asked Jack once they were in the confines of her drawing room.

  Jack blinked at her and glanced at Isla. She seemed startled as well.

  “Murder? He’s not dead.”

  “He was found dead on the Murrays property,” Madame Truffle told them. “A gunshot wound to the head, from what I’ve heard.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Madame Truffle, I had nothing to do with Townshend’s murder. I’ve been in jail this entire time…”

  Madame Truffle laughed. “Oh, Jack, I wasn’t suggesting you did it,” she said. “I’m just worried that whoever did kill him is going to go after you.”

  And of course, if someone was going to come after them, Madame Truffle wouldn’t want to put her or her employees in danger. Who did it then? Was it the Murrays? With a quick look at Isla, he knew she was wondering the same thing.

  “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” Jack reassured Truffle. “Don’t worry. Nobody knows we’re here.”

  Madame Truffle nodded. “Well, what room would you like? We have the Grecian and the Parisian available tonight.”

  Jack’s mouth dropped open.

  “The Grecian,” Isla said with surprising eagerness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The themed room did not disappoint. Large ivory white columns decorated each corner of the room, making it look like a miniature Grecian temple, accentuated with the replica statues of curvy nude women and well-endowed men. A four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room, and a copper tub by the window filled with steaming hot water beckoned to Isla.

  But first… she turned abruptly towards Jack. “You need to bathe, now.”

  Jack glanced down at his body and grimace by how filthy he was. “I guess I should, huh?”

  Isla helped dispose of his ratty clothes and pushed him towards the tub. He let out a sigh of relief as he sank down into the water. While he washed himself, Isla noticed two crowns made of leaves sitting on one of the tables and put one of them on her head and the other on Jack’s.

  “Ye look like a Grecian king,” she announced to him, smothering a giggle.

  Jack gave her a skeptical look as he scrubbed his arms with a bar of soap.

  Just then a pretty young woman in a loose-fitting sleeveless chiton came in holding a tray of sandwiches and tea. Not inspecting an intruder, Isla jumped.

  “Food for Lord Craig, and Miss…”

  “St. George,” Isla told her.

  “Thank you, Marcy,” Jack said. The woman gave him a wink before leaving. “I used to go here with my brother when I was younger,” he began once they were alone again.

  “Ye don’t need to explain yourself,” Isla insisted, taking a bite of the sandwich.

  After Jack was done bathing, Marcy came in with a few other servants and carried the tub away to be emptied. They brought it back in a few minutes later and began filling it with fresh water.

  “Wow, this really must be what it’s like being royalty,” Isla observed with pleasure. “Even the St. Georges aren’t this fancy.” Once the servants left, she quickly disrobed, grabbed Jack’s hand, and led him back into the tub. She went in after him, setting herself down onto his lap.

  Isla wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on his lips. He was receptive to the touch, but to her disappointment it felt like he was miles away from her. She withdrew from the kiss and settled in next to him instead.

  “I wonder if this tub is big enough for us to make love,” she said, smiling slightly.

  Jack didn’t respond.

  Isla shrugged. Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood. “I can’t believe Gregory is dead. I wonder what happened to him. I wonder if Meredith or any of the servants saw anything.”

  Jack remained silent.

  “What’s wrong?” she finally asked.

  “Isla, did Mrs. Murray say anything about me?”

  Her body suddenly grew cold. What else had Jack been hiding from her?

  “What do ye mean?” she asked carefully.

  Jack rested a hand on her leg and leveled his gaze with hers. She noticed the pained look in his eyes as he spoke. “Mrs. Murray told me that she and her husband aren’t really your parents.”

  Isla gave a shuddering breath and nodded. “Aye, she told me. I suppose I always had the feeling they weren’t who they said they were and that they were just using me.” Isla tightened her hands into fists. “I was no more than an object to add to their collection.”

  “There’s something else, Isla,” Jack continued. He took a deep breath.

  “I ken that ye didna kill Mr. Lockheart.”

  “It’s not about Mr. Lockheart. It’s about your real parents.”

  Isla swallowed forcibly. “My real parents?’

  “Yes. I… I believe they were killed by a highwayman.”

  Isla turned her body so that she was completely facing him. “How do y’ken?” She was surprised by how calm her voice sounded. Inside, her heart was beating wildly.

  “Before I was arrested, Mrs. Murray told me how they had found a girl near Inverness walking alone down the road with a bump on her head. This was after they’d come across a carriage robbed by a highwayman. The girl only knew her name, Isla, and they took her to a nearby orphanage. My brother and I… we were walking down that same road. We saw the highwayman before he robbed that family. We inadvertently led him to their carriage…”

  Isla screamed loudly, cutting Jack short. She then buried her head in her hands and began to cry. Jack reached a comforting arm towards her, but she recoiled as though his touch burned her.

  “I-I only just remembered it happening. Isla, I didn’t know it was you or your family when you came to the orphanage. I promise you that.”

  “I need to get out of here.” Isla suddenly said, standing up from the tub.

  “What do you mean? Isla, wait.” Jack got up to follow her.

  “Leave me alone!” She was sobbing, her legs were trembling as she quickly began to dress. “I should never have left England.”

  “Isla…”

  “I need to go home.”

  “What about me?”

  She looked up at him speechless.

  “I-I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I have to go. I need time to… to process this.”

  Finally, after all of these years wondering, she knew the truth about what happened to her family. It felt as though her heart was being torn in half. Had a part of her been foolish enough to think they were still out there? That she would find them? Even after what happened with the Murrays?

  “Will you be back?” he asked.

  “Aye,” she told him. “I will. Just give me some time.”

  “Isla…”

  Before Jack had a chance to put on his clothes, she took a lantern and fled from the brothel and into the darkened city.

  Running along the mostly deserted sidewalk, Isla cried for the family she did not remember. Yet after the tears were spent, she only felt a strange hollowness, like someone had stolen a piece of her soul and was holding it captive.

  No wonder I feel hollow, my family is back in England and Scotland. What am I doing so far away from them?

  It only made sense to leave America. But would she leave Jack behind as we
ll?

  Isla harbored no ill feelings towards Jack, even after his confession. He said that he hadn’t meant to lead the highwayman to her family, and she fully believed him. But the pain of the truth was still lingered.

  After Jack had told her what happened, the memories of that terrible day started to come back to her. She remembered the crash of the carriage, and the man in black holding a pistol to her father’ head. She remembered her mother’s voice, telling her to run. And she did. As she ran, Isla heard, but did not see, the two shots that ended her parents’ life, and the sound of the highwayman galloping away on his horse… But she still couldn’t see their faces.

  Her footsteps led her to the Philadelphia harbor, which was still bustling with activity, even this late in the evening.

  “You have any room on this ship?” she asked one of the sailors just as they finished loading cargo on a packet ship that seemed smaller than the one she arrived in.

  “Nope,” the man said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Sorry. There’s no room for a woman on board.”

  But enough room for a man? she thought irritably as she turned on her heel and left. It was just as well; she had a few loose ends to tie up before she could began thinking about leaving America.

  Their fancy Grecian room was empty when she returned to the brothel.

  “Where’s Jack?” she asked Marcy after catching the woman by the arm while she was walking down the hall.

  “Oh,” her look was sympathetic. “He left a few hours ago.”

  A hard rock formed at the pit of her belly. “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No, he didn’t. I’m sorry, lass.”

  Isla released Marcy’s arm and returned back to the bedroom. She waited most of the night for him, but he never did return to the brothel. At around three in the morning, Isla curled her body into a tight little ball on the bed and closed her eyes.

  We weren’t meant to be together. Fate has told us that time and time again. Will I finally believe it this time?

  After breakfast the next morning, Isla dressed in her Sunday best, loaned to her by Marcy and her bottomless wardrobe. The woman had fun picking out a color that would look good with Isla’s hair, until Isla firmly declared that as long as she looked acceptable, she didn’t care what color she wore. Marcy then spent a good hour making sure Isla’s hair was just right, and that her curls bounced perfectly.

  “I’m just wearing this outfit for a wee bit,” she said to Marcy. “It doesna need to be perfect.”

  Marcy shrugged dismissively and grinned. “Thank you for indulging me.”

  A short while later, Isla departed the brothel to make her way to the coroner’s office, hoping that she wouldn’t be too late. She walked up the steps and was about to knock on the door, but then hesitated.

  Right, she forgot she was supposed to be crying! Isla closed her eyes and willed some tears to moisten her eyes. Finally, she knocked.

  “Miss St. George?” The coroner asked when he answered the door.

  Isla fell dramatically to her knees and gripped the coroner’s hand. “Oh, I must see him.”

  “See who, my dear?”

  “Gregory! My dear Gregory! He had just proposed to me, y’ken, the day before he d-died!”

  “Miss St. George, It wouldn’t be appropriate to have you in here to see is body in such… disrepair…”

  Isla clutched the man’s coat. “Did he have anything on his person? His pocket watch, maybe? If I can’t see him, I need something to remember him by or else I will die from despair!”

  The man was visibly sweating. Isla wondered how much interaction he had with a living woman. “I have some of his belongings,” he relented. “Wait here, please. I’ll be back in less than a minute.”

  Acting is dreadfully tiring, Isla thought. How is it that people do this for a living? She straightened her back as the coroner came out with a basket of Gregory’s belongings. A bundle of keys sparkled in the sunlight. She relaxed her shoulders with relief.

  “Thank you so much.” Isla told the man truthfully. “You’ve saved my arse.”

  The coroner’s eyes widened before his bushy eyebrows furrowed with confusion. But Isla had already turned to leave before the man could ask her any questions.

  The servants and performers were still milling about the Murray’s estate, at a loss of what to do now that their employers were gone. They saw Isla, and it was like a beacon of light went off in their eyes. They immediately ran over to her.

  “Miss Isla,” Harry had reached her first. “Mrs. Murray was arrested earlier this morning. Are you staying here? What of the menagerie?”

  “This property isn’t mine.” She told them. “I recommend you find somewhere else to work as the Murrays won’t be returning any time soon.”

  The servants and performers whispered amongst each other and milled away, leaving Meredith standing alone. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked.

  Isla nodded. “I am.” She then glanced across the field at Golden’s cage, clutching the keys tightly in her hand.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Meredith assured her. “Along with the rest of the animals. They’ll be safe at my sister’s sanctuary.”

  “Thank you, Meredith. I… need to say goodbye to her.”

  “Take your time.”

  Golden woke from her nap and yawned widely as Isla approached and unlocked the cage.

  “I’m leaving,” she told the cat, who blinked sleepily at her. “I dinna ken if ye understand, but it’s likely I’ll never see you again.”

  Golden whined softly, which Isla took to be a form of acknowledgement. Tears filled Isla’s eyes as she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around Golden’s neck. “Have a good life, all right?” she whispered into her fur.

  Knowing that Golden wouldn’t want to leave her if she took the cat out of her cage, she locked it and gave the key to Meredith. “Take good care of her, please,” she told the woman.

  “I promise I will,” Meredith said.

  Isla headed to the manor next, and then straight to the drawing room. From Mrs. Murray’s chest of sewing supplies, she took out a pair of shears. In her bedroom, she changed into trousers and a shirt, she packed a few of her belongings into her small traveling bag. When she was finished, she left the manor from the back door.

  Under the shadows of the trees casted by the late afternoon, Isla walked through the woods behind the Murray’s estate until she reached the river. The river was clear enough that she could see her reflection on the surface of the water. Taking the shears out from her trouser pocket, Isla took a deep breath and began to cut her hair. The red locks fell in clumps onto the ground and spilled into the water as she continued snipping until her hair reached her chin.

  Isla ran her fingers through her shorn locks, already enjoying how much lighter she felt. Smiling slightly, she looked down at the hair still in her hands and dropped it into the river, watching it float away like driftwood.

  She later walked back to the harbor. Had it only been just over a month since she had arrived in Philadelphia? Isla remembered clearly how she felt back then, confused and angry at Jack for keeping secrets from her. Now, that anger didn’t even seem palpable anymore. It seemed almost foolish.

  Where are ye now, Jack? She wondered. And why didn’t ye want to say goodbye if you were to leave without me? She knew he still felt responsible for what he had done in his past, but she wished that she could at least tell him that she didn’t blame him.

  Isla had found a boyish cap at the Murray’s estate and wore it now to hide the fact she was a woman. She pulled it down over her eyes as she approached a sailor in front of one of the packet ships lined up along the harbor.

  “Any room for me?” she asked him.

  The sailor gave her a cursory glance and shrugged. “You okay with cleaning the decks the whole time?”

  “Aye.”

  “All right. Come along. No one else comin’ with ye, laddie?”

  Isla lower
ed her head. “No, sir,” she replied, remembering to keep her voice low. “Just me.”

  The sailor cocked his head towards the direction of the ship. “Get in, then. We’re just about to leave.”

  Isla took a deep breath and walked up the planks towards the ship. Once she was on, she turned around to look back at the city.

  The anchor was soon lifted, and the sail unfurled. Slowly, the boat took off down the river, back towards the Atlantic. Philadelphia twinkled behind her, thousands of candles lit as one.

  Chapter Twenty

  Marcy gave him an incredulous stare. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

  “Yeah, aren’t you two, you know, lovers?” The other whore, Honor, asked him. “I thought I heard you two through the walls earlier.” She gave him a suggestive wink.

  “Why would you let a treasure like that one go?” Marcy piped in.

  “Maybe her man trap has sharp teeth,” the other said, and the women giggled.

  “Enough,” Jack roared, and that quickly silence them. He then left the common room and stalked back up to his own rented room. It still smelled of Isla, like she had never left. Jack picked up one of the small side tables and threw it across the room. The wood shattered and left a decently-sized dent in the wall.

  The women were right. He loved Isla, and he wasn’t going to let her slip by his fingers. Not again. Not ever again. He got up and opened the door. The two women scattered away from him as though they had been listening in.

  “Where are you going?” Madame Truffle asked as he stalked past her office.

  “I’m going to set things right,” he told her. And hopefully I’m not too late.

  The streets of Philadelphia did not seem like home anymore. They seemed oppressive. Did they ever feel like home or did I only imagine them to be, hoping for a sense of belonging? he wondered. When was the last time I actually felt at peace? Well, he could answer that easily enough. It was when he was in Isla’s arms, and only then. It was the only time he had ever felt safe, secure, and at home.