The Wedding of Molly O'Flaherty Read Online Free Page B

lounging insouciantly around their tables. The blue-gray haze of cigar smoke couldn’t disguise how very female I was, and typically only one sort of female frequented the interior of such establishments. And even then, she was expected to stay within the private boundaries of the club—the upstairs with its bedrooms and implications of sin. She was not welcome in the dining room.
    I wasn’t welcome in the dining room.
    I honestly didn’t care where or where not these men believed I belonged, but I didn’t see the Baron’s massive shoulders or dark hair, and so I decided to go out to the foyer and out the front door, pushing past the irritated footman, who clearly also resented my presence (and my refusal to use the kitchen door in back.)
    “This is no place for a lady,” said a soft voice behind me.
    I spun around, anger hot in my mouth, and then stopped.
    And stepped back.
    Silas stood in front of me, his blue eyes twinkling, his roguish grin hooked up to one side. Despite the rainy afternoon, he’d stepped out without an overcoat and he was already in evening clothes, a perfectly fitting black coat and pants with white gloves and a tall black hat, which he doffed now as he bowed to me.
    I just stared.
    “What is it, Mary Margaret? Is it so strange to see a gentleman at a gentleman’s club?”
    “This isn’t your club,” I sputtered. “And besides, you are—”
    “I’m no gentleman, yes, yes, I know. But what about Julian and Castor? Are you ready to hurl such insults at them?”
    And sure enough, Julian and Castor were rounding the corner now, Castor striding forward confidently while Julian adjusted his gloves. Even though I saw Castor earlier today and Julian yesterday, the sight of my three closest friends in the world made my throat squeeze tight and my eyelids burn hot and wet with unexpected tears.
    They must have sensed this, because a moment later, I was in a cage of strong arms and chests. And I didn’t care about how improper it must look for the four of us to be embracing in the middle of the street…in broad daylight much less. I only cared about how, in that moment, I knew that people loved me and cared about me. I knew that no matter how I felt, I was never truly alone.
    “We’re here. And we’re going to help,” someone said in my ear. Silas. I remembered other things he’d whispered in my ear, things he’d whispered just last night, and I shivered.
    That’s my good Molly.
    “You’re here for me?” I asked, my face still pressed into someone’s coat. Julian’s maybe.
    “Of course,” Julian said in his graveled voice. “Castor told us about what that wretched man was planning to do, and knowing that he was also the one making you miserable with your company’s future…well, we are all grateful for the chance to put an end to him.”
    I pulled back and gazed at them, and I was so glad they were here, and I was also so grateful that they’d come here as they did, to support me without a trace of pity or pride. They weren’t acting as if I were a damsel in distress—because truthfully, today wasn’t about me. It was about Birgit.
    A fact which was underscored by Julian muttering something about stopping Cunningham before he could hurt another girl, and the way he said it—and the way the other men reacted—made it painfully clear to me that they didn’t know about my own history with Cunningham. There was no awkwardness, no shuffling feet or dodged gazes. I’d hidden my secret well.
    Too well.
    Suddenly, I was bursting with the need to tell them, to unload the burden I’d carried since I was fourteen. I wanted them to know exactly how terrible he was, how hurtful, but when I opened my mouth and looked up to their warm, compassionate faces, I couldn’t. I couldn’t say the words.
    “We are meeting Mr. van der Sant for dinner,” Julian said, oblivious to my aborted attempt at confession. “And that’s when we will bring him upstairs. The girl knows what she needs