Corrine pursed her lips and sniffed, "Well, when you put it that way…"

Bea added, "Oh, Maddée,c'est déplorable !"

As if bored by Maddy's dramatics, Chat Noir deserted her with a yawn. He leapt to the railing, sidling along, drawing Maddy's gaze down to the street. Two burly men had just arrived at the building. "Are those Toumard's men?" she asked without looking back. "Who else besides me would be foolish enough to get involved with Toumard?"

She'd borrowed heavily—for more than she could make in a year with sporadic work selling cigarettes, serving in the cafés, bettingmutuels, or picking pockets. When she turned back, she saw that their expressions were pensive. "What is it?" Maddy asked. "Tell me. My day can't possibly get worse."

"Come, then, let's go in so they can't spot us," Corrine said. They grabbed their milk crates and hurried inside. "Maddy love, those henchmen came round yesterday, too. They were searching for you, demanding to be let into the building. We're keeping it locked at all times."

"And I will only see regulars!" Bea added with an earnest nod.

"They were here already?" Maddy pinched her forehead. "I'm not even late."

"They said Toumard raised his rates. The interest is escalating each week."

Maddy sank onto her bed again. "But why?"

"You know how gossip spreads around here," Corrine said. "You went into debt to buy a new wardrobe, and then you left town. Everyone figured a cull was happening. Berthé or Odette probably told him, and he could be betting on your success."

But even after delivering the news, Corrine was still wringing her lye-eaten hands. Beatrix had begun studying her chipped cup.

"What else?" Maddy forced a smile. "I can take it." She could find a way to weather bad news. Somehow she always did.

Corrine hesitantly said, "Toumard might have another agenda. He might not be keen on getting paid back at all."

Maddy swallowed. She'd heard that was how Berthé and Odette had gotten started in their present line of work. They were barmaids who'd owed money. Instead of getting their arms broken, they'd gone into a more lucrative trade—facilitated and overseen by Toumard.

Corrine set her cup aside. "If we can't come up with the money…"

Bea's eyes started watering. "Maddée will have to flee for her life."

"No, Bea, no," she rushed to assure her. "Maddée'snot fleeing anywhere. I have all this under control. I'm going to marry the count."

Le Daex was her mother's only legacy to her, the alliance having been arranged by her years ago. Maddy was supposed to have wed him when she'd turnedfourteen— but her mother had died just before then, Maddy had balked, and that's when Guillaume had kicked her out.

"But you told me you sense Le Daex is a bad man," Corrine said. "And there are those rumors…."

Maddy stifled a shiver. "No, no. I will outwit Le Daex, outlive him, and inherit." She'd heard his last three wives had entertained similar aspirations before dying under mysterious circumstances. "Then we'll all be rich, and we'll leave La Marais for good. Everything will be fine. You'll see."

Maddy lived in a ruthless world.

Growing up in La Marais, she'd made observations—she'd learned her environment. And she'd quickly comprehended that here, for most, civility and ethics had been stripped away, until nothing remained but the pursuit of elemental needs—food, shelter, intercourse—and the overwhelming drive to avoid death and pain.

The latter had compelled her to don her last gown, trudge down one hundred and two steps, and begin making her way to Le Daex's. She couldn't afford the omnibus fare to the count's, so she walked. She didn't need to be walking—she was losing weight already, after just a week back—and she'd had to take in her clothes, including this last fine gown she owned.

Each day in La Marais, Maddy made countless decisions, and the stakes were high. At every turn, her choices could lead her to reward—or fate would ruthlessly check her.

Each night before she went to sleep, she catalogued her actions for the day, analyzing them for weaknesses or exposures. She would ask herself,Did I do anything today to leave myself vulnerable…?

Marrying a man like Le Daex would be one of her most critical moves, yet she would do it to avoid Toumard's punishments—or plans. She'd sold her other gowns and paste jewels, but she hadn't been able to keep up with the man's demands for money. His lackeys hounded her more and more.

Out on the street, Maddy passed the usual prostitutes in the usual alleyways, perched on their knees servicing clients. The pained expressions on the men's faces had always fascinated her. The young ones, usually dressed in regimental uniforms, pleaded with the tarts not to stop. The older ones commanded them not to. Maddy had always wondered what could be so pleasurable that they feared its incompletion so much.

The Scot had certainly made sure he'd completed his, by his own hand. She stumbled, nearly catching the hem of her dress.

With him, she'd had a taste of passion and had begun to understand more about the scenes she witnessed routinely. At night, when she was alone in her bed, she recalled the pleasure he'd given her—before the pain. Even after he'd hurt her so terribly, she thought of him—more than of Quin, whom she'd failed to snare.

As the neighborhood grew higher in elevation and therefore more expensive, she passed the boulangerie shop that was the bane of her existence. As was her custom, she stopped to stare through the window.

The warmed shelves were piled with glazed treats, begging her to come liberate them. Inside, behind the counter, were the downtrodden ice creams jailed in a patented ice cream freezer. Alas, she'd never figured out how to pocket goods that melted or flaked apart with the merest touch.

Leering at the food was only an appetizer of anguish for her. Maddy's true torment was watching the young bourgeoisie wives sitting inside. Her hungry gaze drifted to a group of them now.

They were her age and happy, gossiping and glancing over fashion plates, leaving food untouched. Some had gurgling babies in perambulators with silver teething rings, and all of them probably had respectable husbands at home—men they could adore and be adored by in return, men who would protect them and their children.

Maddy envied them so bitterly that her eyes watered and her stomach churned with it.

I would give anything to be one among those women. Anything.

She coveted everything they had. She wanted a happy, well-fed baby of her own whom she could love and care for, much better than her own self-serving mother had cared for her. Maddy wanted to wear a watch pinned to her bodice to check if it was time to meet her husband back at their warm, secure home. She wanted to read fashion magazines—not todream about a new wardrobe but toplan one.

Maddy admittedly sought a rich husband, but not for the reasons everyone supposed. Precious jewels and baubles were welcome, but incidental. She yearned for the safety and security money would bring to her—and to the family she imagined of having.

She'd turned her matrimonial focus to the very rich because those men were in less danger of losing everything, as her own father had. Her papa had been dearer to her than anyone, always striving to make up for her mother's lack of affection, but the fact remained that he'd left his daughter defenseless in a world that seemed to lie in wait, ready to punish any misstep she might make….

The old boulangerie shopkeeper eyed Maddy through the window. Though she was dressed in her costly gown, he recognized her and glared. He put on a grandfatherly face to paying customers, but he was hateful to her, chasing her away with a broom on more than one occasion. She gave him a lewd gesture, turning on her heel and continuing on her way.