Reid didn’t care who heard him. “On what grounds?”
Veronica smiled so broadly, her top teeth gleamed in the glow of the candles. “For her poor behavior, of course. For some reason, she couldn’t keep away from the gentlemen. It caused quite a stir.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t think she’ll ever learn how to be a lady.” Then she smirked. “I’m sorry, I meant a lady’s maid.”
“Where did she go?”
All traces of amusement fled from her face. “Where does any woman go when she has little money, no friends, and no job?”
“That was practically a death sentence.”
“It was hardly that.” She sniffed. “But I do have a feeling she’s wishing right now that she’d done a few things differently. I’ve heard the streets can be unkind to a woman on her own.”
The man beside her grinned. “You should have sent her my way, Veronica. If she isn’t ugly I would have given her shelter. At least for an hour or two.”
“Perhaps she found someone else to do the honors?” With another backward glance at Reid, Veronica circled her hands around the gentleman’s arm and walked away.
Leaving Reid to stand in fuming silence. Thinking what he thought to be the worst . . . and then fearing things even worse than that.
CHAPTER 25
Rosalind spent her first night away from Sloane House in a small room in a cheap hotel five blocks from Michigan Avenue. Trying to find lodging so late in the day had been humbling. Walking the streets, carpetbag in her hand, had garnered her far more attention than she’d been prepared for. More than one man had lewdly propositioned her. Others had looked at her stuffed bag with a critical eye.
Rosalind had feared they were planning to either snatch it out of her hands or follow her into a dark alleyway. Just as bad, she knew she was wearing that same lost look she’d worn the first day she’d arrived in the city. And that expression, of course, was the altogether worst expression to have. It set her up for a great many dangers.
With each step, she was learning that though she’d had a great many experiences in Chicago, had thought she had grown into someone more confident, she hadn’t really changed at all. She still felt lost and hopelessly alone.
Her first two attempts at finding lodging had failed horribly. One place was at full capacity and the other was not interested in housing someone like her. The landlady at her third stop must have seen something in Rosalind’s expression that softened her mood, because she reluctantly rented her a room—for a full dollar over the advertised price. Rosalind had been so scared and weary she hadn’t bothered to argue. Instead, she paid the fee, carried her bag to her room, and praised God that her room had a secure lock.
Now, in the early light of a new day, her mind was clearer and she felt a new resolve.
No matter how afraid she was, she couldn’t leave Chicago without trying harder to fulfill her mission. She needed to discover what had happened to Miranda. And at this point, she needed to be willing to do whatever it took to achieve her goal.
That meant she needed to swallow her pride, find Reid Armstrong, and ask for his assistance. Knowing that she couldn’t simply find his home and knock on the door because she didn’t have his address, she went to the only place where she had a reasonable expectation of finding him and could wait for him safely—the church where she’d watched him sing in the choir.
After putting on her best dress, Rosalind pinned and smoothed her hair as best she could and carried her carpetbag down the narrow, rickety stairs. Even going down the stairs took some negotiating. There was no way she was going to carry her bag all over Chicago if she didn’t have to.
She found the landlady in the dining room, serving coffee. “There you are,” the woman said. “You going to be wanting breakfast? A quarter will get you coffee, toast, eggs, and bacon.”
The food sounded heavenly, and the aroma reminded her that she’d missed dinner the night before. “Thank you.” She took a seat at a small table in the back of the room.
A few minutes later, a young girl who looked to be no older than nine or ten brought out a dish of eggs and bacon and a large cup of coffee. Rosalind thanked her and dug in. The coffee was hot and rich, and the eggs and bacon were far better than she’d anticipated. When she was about halfway done, the landlady brought her a small plate filled with three slices of toast.
“Eat up, dear,” she said in a kind, frazzled way. “You look like a strong wind could blow you away.”
“It’s very good.”
Rosalind ate every last crumb. After all, there was no guarantee that she was going to have much luck finding Reid anytime soon.