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“I do know her but she has not been here in days. Usually I’d see her at least twice by now and she always comes in by Sunday.” He shrugged. “Figure something bad has happened to her.”
The nonchalant shrug made Chastity tighten her fists. How worthless the woman’s life was to this man made bile rise in her throat.
“Is there anyone who would know where she might be?” Valentine pressed.
“Annie.” He thrust a thumb toward a woman in the corner. She wore breeches and carried a stick in a hand that she tapped rhythmically against the floor. Chastity suspected she might only be a few years older than herself, but life had taken its toll, leaving fierce lines around her mouth and upon her forehead. Her hair was a strange orange—the product of trying to dye her dark hair with lemon juice most likely.
When Chastity turned around, the barkeep had pocketed the coins and turned his attention to the other patrons waiting to be served.
“Charming fellow.”
Chastity nodded and motioned for Valentine to remain at the bar. “Let me speak with her.”
“I got that chap to talk.”
“Barely.”
Besides which, she had far more experience questioning people. The temptation to tell Valentine about what she and her sisters did grew by the day but simply because they were lovers did not mean she could trust the man, did it? What if he mocked her just as John would have done? She shuddered. It would be unbearable.
Motioning for him to stay, she worked her way past the tightly clustered tables toward the woman. Her astute gaze raked Chastity, but her expression remained tight and impassive.
“Looking for some fun with your man, I imagine?” She pushed away from the wall and leaned heavily on the stick. The woman’s knuckles clenched tightly around the wooden top, so well-used that the handle shone, smooth and sleek from wear.
“I was looking for a specific woman actually.” Chastity forced a sultry smile. “We heard Daisy Miller was the woman to ask for.”
She shook her head vigorously, sending ratty curls bouncing about her cheeks. “You’ll want Astrid.” She nodded toward a petite, fair-haired girl who could be no more than sixteen. “She has plenty of experience at pleasing couples.”
Chastity swallowed hard. At sixteen she had been playing piano and practicing her Latin and following her mother’s duties closely, preparing for becoming a wife. “I want Daisy,” she said firmly.
“Daisy ain’t here, love, and there are plenty of other girls here who will do you well.” She tapped her cane firmly on the floor, so hard that Chastity felt the vibrations. “If you want an older girl, Betty will pleasure your man well.”
“I can pay well,” she offered.
The lines between the woman’s brows deepened and she leaned forward. “What do you know of Daisy anyhow? Why are you asking for her?”
“I simply heard—”
“If your man wants something else, he won’t get it here,” she warned.
“Something else?”
The woman snorted. “You spend time with rich men—you know how their tastes run. I will not give up any more girls to the vile tastes of rich men.”
“I do not know—”
“Daisy ain’t here,” she snapped, “and I doubt she will ever be here again. You’re more likely to find her at the bottom of the Thames and I’d wager one of the fine men you no doubt spend time with ensured she met that fate.”
Chastity took a few steps back, her cheeks so warm she felt as though she’d been slapped. How ignorant she must seem. Did men really pay to hurt or...or kill women? The bile building in her throat reached her mouth and she coughed, a hand to her stomach to prevent herself from throwing up.
“She’s dead then?”
Cocking her head, the woman sighed. “Of course. And I ain’t handing over anymore girls to the likes of you.”
“But who...?”
“Who did it?” Her dark brows lifted. “How am I to know? One day she was here, the next she did not show up. Chances are she didn’t want to share her earnings. Fool girl. We have to stick together to protect one another.” She nodded toward Valentine. “Don’t trust them, girl. They’ll hurt you one way or another.”
Chastity glanced over her shoulder at Valentine’s glowering expression. How had she forgotten such a fact? Had her years of marriage meant nothing as soon as she had fallen into Valentine’s arms? She swallowed hard and made her way back to Valentine, looking briefly back at the woman who gave her a little nod of reminder. Men were not to be trusted. He would never hurt her physically, but she knew all too well the damage a man could do to her mind and she was weak when it came to Valentine already. Now was the time to shore up her defenses.
