Page 44 of House of Sin
Maeve raised her glass in salute, her grin turning wolfish. “And tonight, I’ve an appetite.” Cards slapped the table with a finalthwapsound. Maeve’s eyes swept from face to face. “Tell me something,”she said sweetly to the sweating man across from her. “When you lose, do you whinge all the way home, or sit in silence like a good little lad and swallow the shame?” He started to laugh, but shut up when she laid down her hand, four queens, neat as you like. A groan rose around the table as she raked in her winnings.
“Elona, love,” Maeve called over her shoulder, stacking her chips. “Remind me to buy something sinful with this haul. Velvet ... or lace. Red, maybe?”
“Oh, definitely red,” Elona said with a wink. “Something scandalous enough to haunt their dreams.”
“Haunt them?” Maeve scoffed. “I plan toruinthem.”
A man from the bar approached, fresh-faced, with a dapper look and a clean coat. “Mind if I have a seat, miss?”
Maeve gave him a once-over. His boots were scuffed just enough to say he traveled, his hands were steady, and his accent marked him as an outsider. His appearance and demeanor certainly had her interest. “That depends,” she said, playfully. “You here to play cards, or test your luck?”
“Bit of both, maybe.” He replied with a grin.
She leaned back, looking him square in the eye. “Fair warning, stranger, I don’t believe in luck, and I’ve no time for lads who fold at the first sign of trouble.”
He pulled out a chair anyway. “Then I’ll try not to disappoint.”
Maeve offered him a dangerous smile. “Good man. But I’ll warn you proper, once I’ve taken your money, I’ll be needing a dance too.” The men around the table chuckled, but it was clear that they were all already losing, and she hadn’t even shown her next hand.
A few steps away, Elona had her own crowd. Her laughter floated through the room as she effortlessly charmed a group of men, all of them hanging on her every word. One older man, his hair graying and his face weathered by years spent in the mines, leaned forward, trying to sound casual but clearly enchanted by her wit. “You’ve got a way with words, girl,” he said. “But I’m not sure I believe everything you’re saying about your travels.”
Elona smiled that honeyed smile of hers, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I assure you, I only tell thetruth when it suits me.” She said, her voice smooth as silk. She inched forward, as if to share a secret, but never once broke eye contact. “And right now, I think it suits me to say I’ve seen more of the world than you would in a hundred lifetimes.”
The man’s grin widened, clearly smitten. “A hundred lifetimes, huh? Well, I guess I’m gonna have to buy you a drink and hear more about this mysterious life of yours.”
Elona raised an eyebrow, her gaze warm but teasing. “You poor thing, thinking I’ll tell you all my secrets over a pint. I’ll be drinking for a century, and you won’t know half of it.”
Violet slid up beside me at that moment, eyes full of wicked amusement. “You see that?” She laughed, tilting her head toward Elona. “They always think they’ll get us to spill our secrets.”
“They’ll spend their pay trying.” I said, watching the room.
“They think drinks and compliments will crack us open,” Violet continued, “but they’ll never get what theyreallywant.”
“Not by a long shot.” I agreed.
She grinned. “Still, the chase is fun, don’t you think?”
I gave her a sly look. “Let them chase. I’m in no rush to end the game.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Emil standing quietly near the door with a drink in hand. His usual stoic expression was softened as he watched the women work their charm on the room. I caught his eye and gave him a slight nod. He didn’t have to say anything, I could see the amusement on his face as he observed us. I watched Nell from across the room, her expression that of delight and just a pinch of pity, like she couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or mourn for the poor souls around us. She poured a few more drinks as the piano shifted into a rollicking jig. Maeve pushed back from the card table, chips in hand and a smirk on her lips. “Alright, enough sittin’ around,” she called. “No one’s gettin’ out of here without a dance tonight. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
The room erupted in cheers and laughter. Chairs scraped back from tables and boots thudded against the floor. Bodies began to move with an energy that had been simmering all night, now spilling over likechampagne. Elona was already on the floor, dragging Violet with her, both laughing like girls with nothing to lose. The music picked up and everyone spun and swayed with reckless joy. I leaned against the bar, letting it wash over me, the clatter of heels, the sparkle of silk, the bright sting of whiskey on my tongue. For a few hours, the world outside didn’t exist, it was just us, reveling in the music and the warmth of the night. My friends, my family, were at the center of it all, and as I looked around, I felt a sense of pride.
I raised my glass slightly, offering a silent toast to the women who had become my everything. “To us.” I whispered, a soft smile playing on my lips.
28
DO I MAKE YOU NERVOUS?
It was a pale, overcast morning, with clouds lingering low, as if reluctant to leave the earth behind. A cool breeze stirred the budding trees, carrying with it the faint scent of damp soil and early blossoms. In the town square, life moved with purpose, women in light shawls and men in threadbare jackets gathered near St. Ann’s, their chatter mingling with birdsong as they waited for the start of the monthly food and clothing drive.
The heavy church doors creaked open, and volunteers and families began filing in. A few local children played near the entrance, laughing and chasing each other around the churchyard. The wind howled above, but inside St. Ann’s, it was warm and filled with the quiet buzz of chatter. The small congregation of townsfolk was a mix of regulars, all familiar to me to one extent or another. These were the same faces I saw every week in passing, whether they knew me from The Oily Cat or not. But today I wasn’t the subject of their scrutiny; today, I was merely another hand offering help.
The church was slowly filling with baskets brimming with fresh bread, jars of preserves, and bundles of root vegetables and potatoes tied with twine: the humble harvest of nearby farms. Alongside the food, racks of clothing stood neatly arranged: worn but mended coats, sturdy shoes patched and polished, and dresses of varying finery. Some were plain cotton or wool, practical for everyday wear, others were more striking: a deep emerald silk that caught the light justso, or a cream-colored lace dress with delicate beadwork.
I adjusted the shawl over my shoulders, the faint smell of lavender soap clinging to my fingers from hours spent sorting through my own cupboards. Spring cleaning had taken on new meaning this year. I had pulled from the back of my wardrobe several gowns no longer suited to my tastes, each carefully folded and packed with care. The girls had contributed as well: Maeve’s soft rose-colored dress, Elona’s warm mustard-hued coat, and Violet’s pale blue frock with silk ribbon trim, all items once cherished, but now relinquished with the hope that they would provide joy or comfort for another.
My eyes scanned the room, lingering for a moment on Father Frederick, who stood near the altar, greeting parishioners with that practiced, insincere smile of his. When our gazes met, I caught a trace of unease in his eyes, quickly swallowed by a mask of self-righteousness. He didn’t come any closer; these days, he avoided me as if I were a stain on his spotless reputation. I loathed him fiercely, and the further away he stayed from me the better.
