Mr. Braddock ushered me ahead of him, while a man, presumably employed by Mrs. Shine, stepped in to keep Mr. Kent from following. Only his protests slipped by: “It’s my father’s debt, not mine!”
But we were already being led through the discreet side exit, down a dim red corridor, and through one of several black doors. The door opened on a small violet-scented room—golden and luxurious, matching the Argyll Rooms’ theme. The far wall housed a lavish dresser overflowing with bottles of perfumes and makeup precariously strewn near the edge. In the nearest corner, a velvet curtain, covering what looked like a private changing area, swayed in the breeze from an open window. Next to it sat a large bed with red satin sheets.
“Just one small matter, Mr. Braddock,” the matron said, holding out a bill. He compensated her with a signature. Satisfied, she slipped out, leaving us alone in the indecent room.
“Did you just pay for . . . ?” I half asked. I tried hard to not stare at the red sheets and imagine what normally happened between them.
“I apologize, there was no other way to speak to Miss Rosamund privately,” Mr. Braddock explained, lounging against a bare wall.
“It’s quite all right. You appear to be a regular customer already,” I replied.
He flashed me a look of annoyance, then shook his head, refusing to respond as he roamed around the room. A collection of perfume bottles caught his attention. “Do you recognize any of these?”
I took a quick, cursory glance, but I already knew the answer. “None of this is hers.”
The muffled music peaked and cut out, followed by cheers, whistling, and applause continuing for what seemed like hours. The clack of footsteps echoed down the hallway, the doorknob turned, and suddenly there she stood. Her wide eyes flinched in surprise and then relaxed when she put on a warm, welcoming smile. I stood paralyzed for a moment, studying her closely. Then, slowly, feeling returned to my limbs. It was her.
“Rose,” I murmured.
A heavy flutter of relief set my feet in motion, and I lunged at her for a hug. Squeezing my sister’s tiny frame, I expelled every single bit of tension, anxiety, and nervousness—naturally, it took a long time to get that all out. When I finally released her, Rose gasped a huge breath, and I could not help but laugh and apologize.
As my euphoria began to settle, Rose greeted Mr. Braddock with a pleasant smile. “And how are you?”
“Fine,” he answered, his eyebrows curved in confusion.
She glided over to a stool in front of her looking glass and started to wipe off her makeup. “What brings you two here?”
Dumbfounded, I stared at her. “I should ask you the very same question.”
She hesitated for the slightest moment before patting her eyes with a towel. “I like it here,” she explained as if it settled everything.
“You ran away to London in the dead of night to sing at a brothel?”
“Please, it is a dancing room. I’ve always wanted to live in London, and I do enjoy singing. Let’s not quarrel. This is only temporary, anyway.”
I shot Mr. Braddock a quizzical glance. He returned the gesture. Something was not right. Out of the thousands of iterations in my head, I had not imagined my conversation with Rose taking this path. “Temporary until what?” I asked.
“Until I earn enough money for school.”
“You didn’t even ask Mother. She might have said yes.”
“Oh, please. You don’t actually believe that, do you, Evelyn?”
“I don’t know. I’m just—I don’t understand. Do you know how worried I was? Your note was so strange, and I—I thought you were kidnapped or—” I refused to tear up. Not for this. I had to convince her or, if need be, demand she come back.
She stood up and interrupted me with another hug. “I’m sorry for the mess. I did not mean for you to go through all of that. But there’s no need to worry anymore. I’m perfectly well now, see, Evie?” She flashed me a smile to ease my tension.
My breath knocked out of me, I stared at Rose, not knowing how to react. Had I gone mad?
“What did you just call me?” I asked, regaining my power of speech.
Rose finished cleaning her face and threw her towel over the back of a chair. “What?” she asked back.
“You just called me Evie, did you not?”
She shrugged, pulling the window open wider with a screech. I turned to confirm the word (along with my sanity) with Mr. Braddock. “Did she not say Evie?”
Perplexed, he slowly nodded. “I believe she did.”
“Are you well, Evelyn? I don’t understand what you’re going on about.” Rose fidgeted with the edges of the velvet curtain, ready to cover herself up. Her gaze turned to Mr. Braddock. “Perhaps I could have a moment to change?”
He nodded and headed toward the door, but my hand popped out to block him. I marched closer to the curtain and found myself staring deep into Rose’s pupils, hoping that would help extract all her secrets. There was something strange about all of this. Though it went against every bit of logic, I had felt it somewhere deep in my bones from the moment I walked in here.
“Who are you?” I asked her.