Madam: A Novel of New Orleans by Cari Lynn & Kellie Martin

Author:Cari Lynn & Kellie Martin [Lynn, Cari]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Countess’s party? There was no way, black magic or not, that the likes of an Alley whore would be welcomed at the Countess’s party. Mary might as well show up knocking at the front door of the president of the United States’s house for all it mattered. And yet, she found herself compelled by Eulalie’s orders, even though she was certain she’d become a laughingstock, booted out onto the street where she belonged.

Her worn boots picked their way along the cobblestones. They seemed to have a mind of their own, these boots, desperately coaxing her along Basin Street, past ornate, looming Victorian mansions that must have been grand in their day but were now left to crumble and rot in the unfashionable back of town. Her heel stuck between a gap in the stones and she stumbled, catching the hem of her pale blue dress. She heard the sound of fabric ripping and she felt herself well up—this dress couldn’t stand to be any more tattered.

She’d bought the dress from a whore on the Alley called Birdleg Nora for the special occasion of Peter and Charlotte’s marriage. Birdleg Nora had probably stolen the dress, or at best was gifted it by a john, but it was relatively high style, with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a sashed waist, and she’d needed money fast. Mary got it for a steal. She’d matched the dress with striped silk stockings, which were all the latest rave from Paris—Mary knew this because she always heard the vendors telling the high-society ladies, who would pay an unbelievable two dollars a pair! Of course, Mary hadn’t bought the stockings; rather, one day she overheard an angry lady yelling at a shopkeeper that her stockings hadn’t even lasted through one washing. Come closing time, Mary lingered around the rubbish and, sure enough, there was the returned pair, with just a small run that could easily be stitched up.

The tiny wedding had been held at Holy Trinity Cathedral, with a young priest agreeing to bless the union only because, when Charlotte’s parents were alive, her family had attended regular mass there. Since the priest had never seen Peter’s face in his pews, he’d sped through an abridged version of the marriage ceremony, all the while tossing disapproving glances at the only other attendant, Mary. Unless God really did speak to him, Mary wasn’t sure how a man of the cloth would know she made her way on the Alley, especially since she was dressed in the fashion of a society girl.

Still, his stare had sent a prickly rash down Mary’s chest, and the dress’s lace collar suddenly felt like a choke hold. Mary hated the notion that her lot in life was already tarnishing the new life her brother and Charlotte were about to begin. And she resented the thought that if ever there was a man who would want to marry her, he wouldn’t be able to do so under the eyes of God. The moment she

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