Nine Buck's Row Read Free Page B

becoming—”
    â€œOut!” Marietta commanded.
    â€œJealous, my love? Afraid your niece is going to out-dazzle you? I shouldn’t wonder.”
    Marietta reached for a bottle, her eyes blazing. Andrew gave her a mocking smile and backed out of the room. I could hear his rumbling laughter as he closed the door.
    â€œThe bastard!” she cried.
    She leaned forward to examine her face more closely in the mirror, her brow creased. Marietta had a great fear of losing her looks, and every new wrinkle was a cause for panic. The wrinkles were few. At thirty-four, she had a hard, glacial beauty that few would find fault with. She rubbed some violet eye shadow over her lids and, dipping a tiny brush into a pot of paste, began to apply dark brown mascara to her long lashes.
    â€œDid I interrupt something?” I inquired.
    â€œDon’t be snide, pet. You did , as a matter of fact, and I was quite relieved. Andrew was about to make a touch—or try. He thinks just because he has limpid brown eyes he can ask a woman for anything and get it. He was about to ask for money in this instance. Gambling debts.”
    â€œWould you have given it to him?”
    â€œNot on your life! Men buy me presents, not vice versa. The day I have to pay a man for companionship—well, that day will never come, pet!”
    â€œDo—do women pay Andrew?”
    â€œSeveral do. These rich, aristocratic women who come to Garrick’s for amusement—bitches, the whole lot of ’em! No need to blush, Susannah! You aren’t a naive young thing, despite that well-bred background. You’ve been in London long enough to know what’s what.”
    â€œI suppose I have. Sometimes, though, I wish—I wish life didn’t have to be so ugly.”
    â€œIt’s not like it is in those books you’re always reading. Moonlight and gardenia blossoms and soft whispers. Hell! Men and women—they’re not like that. A woman has to be crafty to interest a man. She has to scheme and stay one step ahead. She has to use all the tricks—” She finished with the brush and put it aside, opening a pot of rouge. “You’d better forget all that nonsense you’ve been reading and face facts, dearie. No good-looking gallant is going to sweep you off your feet, not unless you give him a few prods.”
    Marietta laughed and tossed her long golden tresses. She was wearing a thin white cambric chemise, row upon row of ruffles covering the skirt. The bodice was tight at the waist and cut extremely low, her magnificently formed breasts, straining against the frail cloth. Marietta was a gorgeous creature. A century earlier she would have captivated kings and caused revolutions. It was a shame, really, that she had had the misfortune to be born in our Victorian era.
    She twirled around on the stool to look at me, her eyes narrowing.
    â€œDon’t let anything Andrew said give you any ideas,” she snapped.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œYou are a pretty girl, Susannah. Almost—not quite—beautiful, in fact. That golden-brown hair, those sculptured cheekbones and deep blue eyes—yes, quite fetching. You’re too thin, of course, but your figure is—well, for an eighteen-year-old girl—”
    She paused, frowning. I was embarrassed by her scrutiny.
    â€œWatch your step,” she said crossly. “I don’t have any illusions about myself, about my way of life, but you—you’re my niece, Susannah. I want you to have something better. It was rough on you, being brought up the way you were and then being transplanted here in the middle of this—” She made an impatient gesture, indicating the music hall and all that lay around it. “You’ve got education and breeding. Those don’t amount to much around here, but someday they’ll pay off.”
    I looked away. This wasn’t like Marietta.
    â€œYou wouldn’t have to