Page 37 of The Marriage Method

Mrs. Pritchard’s thin lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “I give the gentlemen what they want, sir. As for my girls, I keep them close. They’re bound to me by contract, just as you’ll be, milady.” Her attention turned from Nell back to Miles. “I assume you’ll be wanting a finder’s fee?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, ma’am,” Nell said. “I can’t commit to an arrangement until I’m confident it will suit me.”

“Nothing to say on that score, sir?” Mrs. Pritchard asked Miles.

“It’s her decision,” Miles said. “I’ll not stand in her way.”

“I see.” Mrs. Pritchard’s mouth compressed so tightly it all but disappeared. “You wish to negotiate.”

“What I wish,” Nell said, “is to speak to some of your girls.”

The woman’s expression turned dangerous. “Did you hear that, Silas? She wants to speak to the girls.”

Silas’s broad form filled the doorway. “I heard, missus.”

“So,” Mrs. Pritchard said to Nell. “It isn’t a negotiation you want. It’s my secrets.” She signaled to her henchman. “You’ve entered my house under false pretenses.”

Nell’s blood ran cold. She cast an alarmed glance at Silas as he came forward. “Not at all, but you must see—”

“I see an upstart madam who’s looking to open her own establishment,” Mrs. Pritchard retorted. “One who wants to steal my trade.”

Silas stopped beside Mrs. Pritchard. He cracked his knuckles, awaiting her orders.

Miles set a hand on Nell’s shoulder. An outwardly proprietary gesture, but one she recognized at once as silent reassurance. Her growing apprehension eased. He might be a newspaper editor rather than an East End brawler, but he was still a man, and one of intimidating size.

He addressed Mrs. Pritchard with all the formidable authority Nell had heard him use at the offices of the Courant. “What you see is a lady unwilling to sign an employment contract without first discovering if the other employees are content in their positions,” he said. “I would expect nothing less from a girl of Miss Trewlove’s intellect.”

“Intellect!” Mrs. Pritchard mocked. “Bless my soul, look at her. As bright as the whist-playing dog at Cremorne, isn’t she, Silas?” She stood in a swish of silk velvet. “You may speak to one of my girls. But only one. And you’ll do it in my presence. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

“I accept them, of course,” Nell said. She remained in her seat as Mrs. Pritchard swept out of the room. Silas marched after her.

Miles looked down at Nell. “That took a turn,” he said quietly.

“Indeed,” Nell replied in equally low tones. “Did you notice the carpet?”

“The lack of it,” Miles said. “A strange omission in a room where no expense appears to have been spared.”

“A recent omission. There’s still dust present along the edges of where it used to be.” Nell gave him an anxious look. “I have a bad feeling about this place, Miles.”

“You’re not alone,” he said. “I advise that we go.”

“We can’t,” Nell said. “This is our only chance.”

Miles’s expression sobered. He must know as well as she did that there would be no coming back to Mrs. Pritchard’s after this. Word of their visits to the other brothels would soon reach the madam’s ears. She’d learn that they’d been asking a very different sort of questions at those places. Questions accompanied by a sketch of the recently departed Mr. Cowgill.

“It might be,” Miles allowed. “But no information is worth putting you at risk.”

“I can handle myself,” Nell promised him.

Mrs. Pritchard returned before Miles could respond. She was accompanied by a voluptuous young woman in a dyed purple dressing gown. Her pale cheeks were rouged and her hair was colored an unnatural shade of brassy gold.

“Claudine,” Mrs. Pritchard said to the girl. “This grand lady is considering joining our establishment if we can prove ourselves up to her high standards. Do put her mind at ease.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pritchard.” Claudine’s voice was thin, her accent decidedly cockney. She sauntered to the settee, flashing a coy smile at Miles before plopping down beside Nell. “What d’you want to know?”

A dozen questions ran through Nell’s mind. Was the girl safe? Was she well treated? Did she truly want to be here, rather than employed at a shop somewhere, or working as a servant in a respectable household?

But Nell wasn’t here to save this girl. She was here to save another—one younger and more vulnerable.