by Alicia Ryan
But if Darren thought it meant something, maybe that something would keep her alive. Because if this was real, and he was a vampire, then she had no idea what, if anything, would make him keep his hungers in check. She could be in real danger.
But surely he wouldn’t have dragged her through time and space just to kill her inside of a few moments? She turned it over and decided he was probably telling the truth in that respect—he wanted to savor her. But how long did that give her? Would he kill her when he got tired of her—or, if he’d brought her here, could she convince him to send her back? That had to be her main goal—just in case he was telling the truth. Just in case this was real. Because no matter how much they liked her singing, she didn’t belong here.
She ran her thumb along the raised red line of last night’s cut. The pain relaxed her and shot her full of curiosity as to what a vampire bite would be like. Could he smell her now? She supposed so.
She lay down, and exhaustion forced all other thoughts from her mind.
Chapter Six
Clad in what Madame Graham had assured her was a perfectly respectable gown for going about during the day, Roxanna was just reaching for the door when a knock echoed from the other side. She jumped back, but quickly collected herself and reached for the knob. On the other side of the threshold stood a middle-aged woman with light brown hair that had just begun to go gray. It was pulled back into a loose bun, and she wore a gray dress and white apron, all of which combined to deliver a rather bland first impression.
“Good morning,” Roxanna offered.
The woman gave her a quick appraisal followed by a warm smile.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing.”
“Umm...thank you. And you are?”
“Oh, yes. How silly of me. I’m Myrtle. I’m the cook—well, one of them. Sherman does the late night cooking.”
“Nice to meet you, Myrtle.”
“Likewise, dear. It’ll be nice to have another woman around the place.”
Roxanna looked at her from under knitted brows. “There must be at least one maid.” She elected not to tell Myrtle she knew that because she’d been given her uniform when she showed up naked on the doorstep.
“Oh, yes. There’s Jeannie and Cora. They clean the common rooms, but they come in early—at four, just as soon as the front doors close, but they’re gone by nine when Padworth’s opens up for breakfast. And they have all they can do, believe me. I come in at seven, so I hardly even see them. Now Jeannie, she’s about your age, but she’s the only young woman on staff. Cora’s old enough to be my mother, and so is Ellen. She’s the chambermaid for the rooms on the third floor.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Cleaning up after a bunch of men...” She made a face that forced Roxanna to laugh. “Makes me grateful for knowing how to cook.
“When I saw Master Jack’s note that you’d be staying here for a bit, I thought I’d see if you wanted to come up to the kitchen, and I could whip you up a bit of breakfast.”
Roxanna thought about that for all of half a second. “Now that you mention it, I’m starved.”
Myrtle eyed her up and down. “You look it, poor thing.”
Roxanna laughed. “Don’t worry—I’m stronger than I look. But yesterday was frantic, and I did actually forget to eat.”
Myrtle shook her head. “Then let’s get some food in you dear, before you faint dead away.”
Roxanna moved to follow Myrtle out, but then stopped. “Myrtle,” she asked, “whose room is this. I hate to put anyone out.”
Myrtle shook her head. “It’s just a spare. Any of us use it—mostly me if I wind up having to cover Sherman’s night shift. I don’t like walking alone in the wee hours. So you aren’t putting anyone out, dear. For as long as you’re here, I’m sure Master Jack will escort me if I need it. Don’t give it a second thought.”
Roxanna followed Myrtle up a narrow set of stairs at the end of the hall to the right of her room. Clearly meant only for the servants. “I thought the kitchen was downstairs,” Roxanna said. “I’m sure I saw it yesterday when I came in.”
“That’s the big kitchen. We serve lunch and dinner from there. In the morning, when the gentlemen are mostly in the tea room, we serve tea, coffee, and breads and pastries and such from the small kitchen upstairs.”
“Oh.” Two kitchens. She’d gotten a better look at the place when she returned from Madame Graham’s yesterday. It took up the corner of a city block and was three stories—three very tall stories.
“So the top floor is all bedrooms?”
Myrtle nodded. “The members can stay overnight if they give us some notice. There are only twenty rooms—usually most of them are in use.”
“How many members are there?”
Myrtle turned. “Oh, dear me. Hundreds. You’d have to ask Master Jack. They don’t all show up at once of course. Many of them belong to other clubs as well.”
“And all they do is drink and gamble?”
Myrtle laughed. “Well, working at night, those are the ones you’ll see, I’m afraid. But this is a respectable establishment. The gentlemen come here to meet, to play billiards, to read in the library.” She turned and smiled at Roxanna from the top of the staircase landing. “And for the food, of course.”
“Of course.” Roxanna smiled back.
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and tea, Roxanna left Myrtle cheerfully chopping vegetables for the lunch soup offering and made her way downstairs and into the back room where Padworth had said they stored the piano. It was there, as promised—an old upright pushed against the far wall. It looked like it might be holding up some severely peeling cream-colored wall paper. Unlike the gambling room up front and the combined bar and sitting room where she’d performed last night, which were all done up in red and mahogany and brass, this room had light walls and a dingy wood floor that bore the scratches of years of use. Boxes lined the walls that extended out from the door on either side of her, and whatever its purpose had once been, the layer of dust coating the boxes and even the floor indicated it had been a long while since it was used for anything but storage.
She wasn’t surprised Phillip was already there. His back was to her, and he was dusting the piano with a white cloth. He’d removed a light blue jacket—coat, she reminded herself—and wore just a linen shirt and similar off-white trousers. His brown leather boots looked expensive and well-maintained, but a bit worn. She took a moment to appreciate the nicely-formed curve of his backside as he leaned down to dust the bottom of the piano. She couldn’t help laughing as she imagined his reaction if he knew.
He spun around, wringing the cloth in both fists. “Miss Collins. You’re early.”
She smiled, wanting to put him at ease. “Well, it doesn’t take long to get ready when you’ve got no makeup and only one dress to choose from.”
“You wear cosmetics?” he asked from under raised brows.
“Oh,” she said, marveling at how she’d managed to disappoint him already. “I guess that’s not something ladies do these days?”
“Perhaps a hint of color or the cheeks, but anything more would be–”
Roxanna held up her hand. “Let me guess. ‘Improper’.”
“I’m sorry, but you seem to have no idea of the...magnitude...of your actions.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m well aware that, at least for now, it’s only the magnitude of my impropriety that has me singing here and not out begging in the street.”
“Nevertheless...”
Roxanna held up her hand again. “I suggest we have a bargain, Phillip. For today, please just accept that you’re going to think everything is improper, and I’m going to know very well what you’re thinking. Okay?”
He smiled, warmth blazing up into his azure eyes. “I suppose I can agree to that. It seems I’ve made my thoughts abundantly clear.”
Roxanna nodded. “Abundantly.” She looked over at the piano. “I thought we’d start with some songs designed for pi
ano accompaniment before attempting anything more ambitious. How about I sing the first one for you all the way through, and we see what you can make of it?”
Phillip took a seat at the piano stool. “Just hum the first few bars,” he said. “Then I can probably pick it up.”
Roxanna raised her brows but did as he asked, humming the first few lines of a smoky, bluesy song—one for which the lyrics weren’t too risqué.
True to his word, when she began to sing, he picked up the melody and harmony and accompanied her until she came to the chorus. To that, he just listened.
They repeated on the second verse, and he came through on the chorus with interesting downbeats and flourishes. It wasn’t exactly as she remembered it, of course, but it was striking and a better compliment to her voice than the original arrangement.
They stared at each other when the song ended. “You’re very good,” they told each other simultaneously.
Phillip laughed. “Thank you. That’s not like anything I’ve ever tried to play before. My training was all in classical music—which can be haunting and beautiful, but not like this–” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “with just the few notes and your voice. That was moving.”
“But still improper?” she asked, glad to see him smiling.
“Completely.”
“I have tried to think of ones you won’t find too offensive.”
He looked up at her, his smile changing to a frown. “But that’s not what Padworth wants you to be doing is it? Aren’t you supposed to be...well...titillating your audience?”
She nodded slowly, meeting his beautiful blue gaze all the while.
Phillip took a deep breath. “Then you shouldn’t let me jeopardize your employment. You have to show me all the songs you want to sing.”
“Think you’ve got the first one down? I’ll definitely be doing that one tonight.”
He nodded. “I’ve got it. We can move on.”
“Then let’s do another in the same style, and then we’ll get to the spicier stuff.”
***
The spicier stuff hadn’t been the problem she’d feared. True to his word, Phillip had kept his opinions about propriety to himself, and he was such a quick study, he was more than ready to be her accompanist for the evening crowd.
Phillip and Jack had moved the piano out into the next room, and she and Phillip had agreed not to have a set song order. She would read the mood of the crowd, start whatever song she felt was right for the moment, and he would join her on the second bar.
She went from bluesy to sexy to rowdy and back again, gradually drawing more people into the room. Most of them meandered from their tables to the bar or back into the gaming room at some point during the evening, or at least when she took her water breaks.
Only Darren sat at his table for the entire show without moving. He’d picked the table they’d shared last night, and it was so dark she couldn’t see him clearly, but she felt his eyes on her. She wondered if he could read minds and knew she’d come to a decision.
***
Darren felt intoxicated. Roxanna was a beauty—thin, but still curvaceous—the dress she wore revealing delectable shoulders and enticing cleavage. But when she opened her mouth to sing, she positively glowed. She became something more than Roxanna the young woman; she was an exquisite instrument—finely tuned to both the notes and the feel of each song. And what feeling. She gave each song a life story, making it hard for Darren to take his eyes off her even for a moment. Watching her, listening to her—it made him feel. He couldn’t wait to taste her. This had to be why she was sent to him—to help him feel again. To banish his weariness of eternal life. This girl had life to spare.
The only time he shifted his gaze during her performance was to notice the subtle change in Phillip Branham. He had begun the evening stiff as a board, staring at the piano keys, but with every song he seemed to relax. He began to look up over the piano at Roxanna as she sang. They shared some silent communication as she started each new song and he joined in.
Darren told himself he wasn’t jealous. It was natural she’d make eye contact with her piano player. Still, he didn’t want complications. Roxanna was meant for him, and he had to make her see it.
As Roxanna started her last song—the same one she’d closed with last night, a funny little ditty about closing time at a pub—he got up to find Padworth.
***
Roxanna noticed Darren leave and wondered if he was giving her time to consider his offer. She wondered, too, at her sudden willingness to take such risks. It wasn’t really in her nature. But, if she was in a coma back in Las Vegas, it hardly mattered, and if Darren was the one who’d brought her here, he was her only hope of getting back. She had little choice but to humor him.
Right, a little voice inside her head whispered, you’re just humoring him. It’s not like you’re a pain addict and he’s offered you every pain addict’s dream. But he’s death in a fancy coat.
She sighed, shook herself, and leaned over the piano to smile at Phillip, who seemed to have loosened up over the course of the evening.
“Fine show, Mr. Branham. You’re fantastic, you know.”
He shook his head. “It’s your show, Miss Collins. No one is here to listen to me.”
She grinned. “But you make me sound better, and that’s what counts.”
“You don’t have to stick with Branham, Miss Collins,” a voice from the audience called out. “Come join us for a drink.”
She glanced down at the two gentlemen who still occupied the center front table. They both seemed to be nursing their drinks and in no hurry to leave.
Phillip stood and leaned toward her. “That’s Viscount Everett on the left. His father’s an earl. And Lord Hartley on the right. He has hopes of becoming a duke one day if his uncle remains childless.” He shrugged. “Both of them are well off, I believe, and could set you up with a fine lifestyle.”
Roxanna’s eyes widened. “Are you seriously trying to pawn me off as someone’s mistress?”
He blushed. “I’m merely trying to be practical about your future. You could do much better than what Padworth is paying you. None of these men could have you for a wife, of course, but you could do well for yourself as a mistress.”
She frowned. “Really, Mr. Branham, I’m surprised you’d suggest something so...improper.”
He shrugged again. “It’s the way things are done. And I promised to keep my opinions about propriety to myself, if you’ll recall—at least for today.”
“Miss Collins,” the viscount called out, waving his drink at her, “do come join us.”
Darren appeared out of nowhere, cutting her off from the view of her new admirers. He glared at her for a moment and then turned to their lordships. “The lady is forbidden to fraternize with Padworth’s customers, but she’ll be doing a small, private performance at my townhouse tomorrow night. The festivities will begin at ten, and you’re both welcome to attend.”
The future duke laughed. “I say, Highmore, good show. I wish I’d thought of it.” He looked at his friend, who nodded in response. “We’ll be there.”
With that, they got up and made their goodbyes, expressing their eagerness to get to know Roxanna better at the Earl’s gathering on Monday. Their departure left Roxanna standing between Phillip and Darren.
“So you paid Padworth to rent her for a night?” Phillip asked, indignant.
Darren looked at Roxanna. “There seemed to be no other way of getting to know the lady better.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t want to know you better. Didn’t you even think of asking before trying to buy her?”
Darren shot Phillip an annoyed glance. “Unlike you, I can afford to buy the things I want, and not that it’s any of your business, but the lady and I are acquainted, and I didn’t think she’d refuse.”
“Roxanna?” Phillip asked.
“No, he’s right, Phillip. It’s okay. I agree to the Earl’s proposal.”
“You’re using first names now?” Darren asked.
“What?” Roxanna looked at him, and it t took a moment for her to realize what he meant.
“That’s right,” Phillip responded. “And if she’s to come to your home, I insist on escorting her.”
Darren laughed. “I’ll send my carriage for her, and she’ll be in a room full of respectable members of the peerage.”
“I know the kinds of things your friends consider ‘respectable’, my lord.”
“Your presence is not required, Branham.”
“Phillip, really, it’s all right. The Earl has promised to try and help me figure out how I came to be in London with no memory. He’s going to help me find out if I have any family searching for me. Singing for him is the least I can do.”
Phillip stopped objecting and sank back down onto the piano stool.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Darren asked him.
“Right,” he said, standing and straightening his waistcoat. “I’m off, then.” He gave a little bow to Roxanna. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Let’s make it afternoon. We can practice until the pre-dinner crowd shows up. And I could use the rest.”
Phillip nodded, and Roxanna watched until he’d left the room. For the moment, she and Darren were alone.
“You’re not upset with me?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It would seem to be to my advantage to get to know you better, too. I was wondering how to get out from under Padworth’s rules. It seems you’ve solved that problem.”
He smiled. “Padworth would sell his own mother. He did say it had to be Monday, though.”
“That’s to be my one night off, I believe. When business is slow.” She frowned. “You can’t go out in sunlight, I guess?”
He shook his head. “No, not direct sunlight, not for more than a minute or two. If it’s overcast, I can get a little more time. Luckily, the weather in London often cooperates. Why do you ask?”
“Well, since I’m here, I’d like to see more of London than just this place.”
