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“Rumi,” she whispered, the memory of the words from years ago crashing to the forefront of her mind.
He pulled back slightly to see her eyes and he nodded.
“Your mother’s favorite.”
He nodded again, then stood, taking a step back from the tub. “You can find me when you are finished. Or you can walk out the front door to the waiting carriage and take the bag of coins inside of it that will set you onto a new life of your own will. There is nothing attached to the money—no demands, no requests, no favors.” He paused, closing his eyes with a deep breath.
His spine steeled and he opened his eyes to her. “I only need to know that you’re safe. Stay or leave, it’s your choice, Pen.”
{ Chapter 24 }
Stay or leave.
Everything her heart wanted against everything her mind knew she should do.
She stared at her feet propped up in the copper tub, the tips of her big toes just breaking the surface of the water.
Strider would never forgive her for what she’d done. She knew that of him. Once his mind was set, it was set. And it had set against her the moment she had handed him that letter from his father. There would be no coming back from it.
She couldn’t risk her heart with him again.
What did he even want with her now? To torture her more? To entice her toward him and then toss her aside—making sure she truly suffered? Cruelty—but what did she even know about what he was now capable of?
Footsteps in the adjoining bedroom startled her out of her reverie, and Pen perked up in the tub.
The steps in the bedroom were light, delicate. Not Strider’s heavy boots.
A woman appeared in the open doorway to the bathing chamber, holding a pretty peach muslin dress up in front of her.
A woman withauburn hair coifed to perfection and the face of a sweet angel.
Pen squinted at her, making sure she was seeing what she was seeing correctly. Madame Juliet? “You…you’re the woman from the Den of Diablo? Madame Juliet? But…your face?”
Alarm widened her eyes and Madame Juliet touched her cheek. “What’s wrong with my face?”
Pen tried to pull her jaw up from gaping. “You—you’re young.”
“Oh.” Madame Juliet laughed, her fingers dropping away from her face. “That. This.” Her forefinger pointed at her face, swirling in a circle. “I suppose you only met me at the Den. The rouge and the charcoal do wonders for making me look older.”
“But when I met you there—you were older. Or not older—powerful—owning everything in the room.”
Madame Juliet laughed again. “I don’t know about that. But the more that I look like I’m in charge, the easier it is to control the customers at the Den. If I look older, that is good. Age brings power.”
Pen weakly nodded.
Juliet’s head tilted to the side. “Most of the time that is true. Though sometimes age brings tomfoolery.” She waved her hand. “But in my situation. Power. At least at the Den it is true.”
She moved to the side of the bathing chamber, draping the dress she held onto an open side cabinet that held a stack of towels. “This is what I truly look like—when I’m out of London, at least.”
Pen had thought Madame Juliet was beautiful at the Den of Diablo. But as Juliet moved into the room, Pen realized what a true, natural beauty she was.
Jealousy surged in her gut. Jealousy she tried to clamp down upon. Madame Juliet had never treated Pen with anything but kindness and respect. Admirable, for how Pen had shown up at the Den demanding to see Strider.
She had to remember Juliet was what Strider deserved. A woman fiercely loyal. A woman that would never disappoint him. Never betray him.
She swallowed hard, looking down to the now tepid water barely moving in front of her.
“I brought you this dress, as I heard word about how you arrived here and by whose hand.” She picked up Pen’s dress and shift from the chair and sniffed. Her nose scrunched. “And I imagined you would smell about as much as this dress does. And your shift—the stench sank deep through the layers. I’ll fetch you a new chemise and undergarments as well. And I’ll send this down to be laundered.”
