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the world.” He stared glumly into his almost empty glass. “Told me she cared for me, but not enough to give up her dream.” He sniffed in derision. “Have you ever heard such rot?”
    Jack said, “Huh.” But inside a chill chased along his ribs. What had he said to Sadie before he left? That he loved her but this business venture with Tryst was something he had to do. He had meant that it was something he had to do for the two of them, so he could give Sadie the life she deserved. She’d understood. She told him to go.
    The dark-haired man laughed bitterly. “It gets worse. I begged her to stay—I even proposed. You know what she did?”
    Jack shook his head, unable to speak, unable to look away from the naked emotion in the man’s face.
    “She looked at me like she pitied me and told me she had to go. Bollocks. I’m not about to let some pretty little widow make an arse of me, so here I am. If a night at Chez Cherie’s doesn’t restore my manhood, I might as well put on a frock and join a nunnery.”
    “You’d make an ugly woman,” Jack commented, thinking it was the appropriate thing to say, and because this conversation was a little too close to home.
    His companion winked. “That’s how much faith I have in the restorative powers of the ladies of this house.”
    As if his words had somehow opened a door, the tenor of the room suddenly changed. Down the Y staircase came a colorful parade of skin, glossy hair, and bare limbs. Jack’s eyes widened as one by one the most beautiful and exotic women he’d ever seen filled the space—some heading to the tabled section while others drifted toward the section where he sat. It was a good thing the women chose who they wanted, because he didn’t think he’d ever be able to make the choice himself.
    It didn’t take long for one to approach him. He’d been watching as she glided down the stairs in a moss green satin gown that bared her arms, a delicious expanse of bosom, and part of one leg. He’d seen more risqué costumes on dance hall girls, but obviously the madame of Chez Cherie’s knew that the secret to a man’s interest lie in what remained hidden rather than what was revealed.
    The courtesan had rich auburn hair and brows that were a shade darker, with skin the color of fresh cream and eyes the same shade as her gown. She wore little cosmetics, but what she did wear accentuated her Irish beauty.
    “Hello,” she said to him in an accent that squeezed his heart. Oh, he’d heard it plenty of times in New York and Boston. He’d heard it a little in Sadie’s voice earlier thisevening. Maybe that was why it affected him so deeply now. Jesus and Mary, it was good to hear.
    He murmured something in response, to which the girl smiled. “Would you happen to be Jack Friday?”
    Startled, Jack stared at her. “I am.”
    The woman offered her hand. “I’m Kathleen Ryan. I hope you haven’t been waiting on me for too long?”
    Ryan. This stunning creature was the client he was supposed to meet. He’d assumed Ryan was a man as Trystan had been the one to be in direct correspondence. No doubt his partner had forgotten to mention these details on purpose.
    Smiling wryly, Jack rose to his feet and accepted the offered handshake. “Not long at all.” He glanced around at the other ladies finding their employment for the night. “Should I come back at a better time?”
    Kathleen smiled, showing off a set of remarkably good teeth. “La, no. You and Mr. Kane have made it possible for me to take a night off if I want. I may not have to work at all soon.”
    She didn’t sound entirely committed to the idea. Jack had always thought prostitutes sad, pathetic creatures. Chez Cherie’s gave him fresh perspective.
    The redhead gesture to the stairs. “Shall we go up to my quarters? We can talk privately there.”
    Jack gestured for her to lead the way. “After you.”
    “There you go!” crowed the man beside him. Jack had forgotten about him. “I knew