The man stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a frown turning the edges of his mouth down. He did not look happy to be there. Arista could see the door to her room clearly from where she was, hunched down near the top of the stairs. She could not slip inside without him taking notice.
Entering through the front door had been easy. Disguised as a boy, she’d moved down the main hallway, unnoticed by two housemaids sweeping by with arms full of linens. After kicking off the boots and tucking them into a small alcove off the front door, she started up the massive stairway, the one with thick carpeting and a gleaming wooden banister. The one only paying guests used.
This side of the house was still. The rich men had gone home to their wives’ beds, while the working girls on the second floor were sleeping. The back of the house would be a flurry of activity at this early hour, and she didn’t want a confrontation. Not dressed as a boy.
She glanced up again, willing the man to move. Blast it. How could she be in her room before Wild arrived, if she couldn’t get back in? Maybe if she went outside and threw a pebble against the window, it would alert Becky, and she could distract the man again. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all Arista had.
Wild’s “request” had been a test. She knew that. And if she wasn’t there when he came for her…No, she would be in her room. That was that.
The carpet muffled her steps as she snuck back down to the second floor. Just before she reached the last step, a door far down the hall swung open. A man came out, his shirt tucked haphazardly into his trousers. He said something into the room that Arista didn’t hear, but the tone in his voice said more than enough. The door slammed, then a fist pounded on it as the man’s voice grew louder. “You thieving whore, let me back in. I’ll get my money’s worth out of you yet.”
The threat in the man’s tone made Arista’s skin crawl. She reached for her knife out of habit. More doors were opening now, and disheveled heads popped out to watch. The man turned, and his lip curled into a snarl.
“I’ll get my money’s worth from one of you girls, then.” He staggered down the hallway, and several of the girls shrieked and slammed their doors. The man bellowed in drunken rage and yanked on each of the door handles.
Arista backed up and her foot caught the edge of the step. She fell, quickly turning to catch herself on her hands and knees. A large black pair of boots filled her vision.
“Out of the way, boy,” a deep voice growled. A hand on her shoulder roughly pushed her aside and Arista sprawled awkwardly across the stairs. The man pounded past and stormed toward the drunk man. It took her a moment to realize that her guard had shoved her out of the way. He yelled at the aristocrat to step back, but he only sneered.
Her guard outweighed him by at least four stone. Only the spirits the aristocrat had drunk made him think it would be a fair fight. But that wasn’t her problem. An opportunity presented itself, and she took it. Arista sprang up the stairs as fast as she could and ran toward her room. The loud sounds of the fight below filled the air, and her heartbeat sounded equally loud in her ears.
When she got to her door, she rapped out the signal, and gulped in several deep breaths. What if Becky was asleep? Or not in the room? An icy edge of panic began to creep along her skin, and Arista knocked again. She tried the door, but it was locked, exactly as she’d asked Becky to do.
Just as she started to knock again, the door swung open. Becky stood back, blinking sleep from her eyes, and quickly let Arista slip inside.
“Thank goodness, miss. I knew as soon as you left, there would be trouble getting back inside. I waited, kept checking to see if you were back, but the guard finally told me to stay inside. How’d you get past him?”
Arista squeezed her friend’s hand. “There was a commotion downstairs. Quickly, help me clean this soot off my skin. I mustn’t arouse Wild’s suspicion when he comes for us.”
Arista stripped, and Becky made short work of the soot with a soapy rag, which was then dropped in the copper tub to conceal the evidence. Arista raised her arms and the soft fabric of her nightgown fell around her.
Becky tucked everything inside the silver domed tray as Arista crawled into the bed. “I’ll take them back right now, miss.” She lifted the tray and opened the door. “He’s still gone—should I go now?”
“Yes,” Arista whispered. The last thing she wanted was for Wild to find evidence that she’d blatantly disobeyed him. The door clicked shut, and Arista finally let her breath out. The throbbing that had started as she stood in the ashes of her burned-out home grew more painful. She pressed her fingers against her temples.
Nic would find them. He was probably waiting until Arista was alone. Even if he knew that she was at Wild’s brothel, it didn’t mean he could get to her. Maybe he had already tried. Yes, once they were away from this place, Nic would have the opportunity to contact her. That had to be what he was waiting for. She just needed to be patient a bit longer.