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too pleasant to be proper. “I’ll be living here, so don’t get your hopes up about having a bed to yourself. Right now, I’m just checking my costumes, in case any need repairs.”
    Prudence eyed the gowns with longing. “The dresses are so pretty...and the petticoats.”
    None of them would fit her, or Charm would’ve offered one. Her friend’s drab clothing selection and severe hairstyles didn’t do her justice. “Would you like to help me select what to wear for my debut performance?”
    “What about this one?” Prudence lifted a snow-white dress made of silk with a tulle overlay.
    Charm’s stomach knotted. That was her mother’s favorite, too. For different reasons.
    “La Belle Enfant. The name fits you, my dear. You look so young. So innocent. When you wear this dress, especially. You stir men’s protective urges. Make them feel heroic. At the same time, they burn to possess you. This is your power. Use it to your advantage.”
    The white dress had made her famous, so she couldn’t dispute its effectiveness. Much as she hated it, she wasn’t responsible for the dichotomy of men’s emotions toward innocent girls. As Mama had so frankly stated, she was giving them what they wanted.
    Maybe that was why Simon had assumed she would welcome his advances.
    Charm frowned at the disturbing thought. “That one will get dirty.” She wouldn’t wear it regardless. Someone might recognize her in the signature costume. “Saloons aren’t the cleanest places.”
    “I imagine not. How can you stand being around drunken men?” Prudence scrunched her nose. That bad smell again.
    Charm had grown up over her father’s saloon in San Francisco. Back then, she hadn’t known any different. “I suppose I’m used to it.”
    “What will you do if the men...lose control?”
    “Assault me, you mean?” She didn’t add that the only man who had assaulted her wasn’t drunk. She would use a portion of her earnings to purchase a pistol in case he caught up with her. “I trust Mr. O’Shea won’t allow me to come to harm.”
    “How can you be sure? You don’t know him.”
    Why she felt secure with the brawny Irishman, Charm couldn’t say. “If I see reason to doubt, I’ll find another way to protect myself.”
    Prudence draped the white dress on the bed with a reverence that made Charm flinch. White stood for purity and innocence. Charm could claim neither.
    “You’re set on it, then,” Pru said softly. “There’s nothing I can say to talk you out of it?”
    The die had been cast long ago. Charm knew no other life, nor did she want a different one. She shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

Chapter 3
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    P atrick woke early the next morning in an optimistic mood. Even the stiffness in his muscles didn’t seem as bad, or maybe it just didn’t bother him as much because his thoughts were occupied with visions of his good luck charm.
    That would be a good stage name. He would suggest it when he met with Miss LaBelle to hammer out an agreement. As much as he despised the impersonal nature of contracts, he could see the value. Once word got around about her astonishing talent, the other saloon owners would try to hire her away. Having her signature on a legal document would protect his interests.
    Hobbling to the dresser, he picked up a small pill and rolled it between his fingers. Each morning, he’d crush the opium into the bottom of a glass and mix the bitter medicine with sugared whiskey. The stuff would work its magic and he’d be able to move with less pain. But over time, he found he needed more to get the same relief. The more he took, the slower his mind worked.
    He put down the pill. He could do without the medicine this morning, and if he made it through tomorrow, he might find he didn’t need it anymore. By the time he dressed and ate his usual breakfast, oat porridge liberally doused with honey, he felt much better.
    Before he left his room, he stopped in front of a small statue