Free Forgiven by Janet Fox Page A

man. I withdrew fast, feeling stupid and not a little breathless at seeing that gorgeous face, at hearing that charming prince calling to me as if I was the heroine of a fairy tale.
    And the seal—the dragon. It seemed there was a growing riot of links and connections and surprises. I shook myself, rubbed my arms hard. This was San Francisco, after all. In a city known for its Chinese population, dragons were probably common. Even on the coach of a prince of the city.
    Now voices drifted up from the front hall; I pulled back the curtain to peer at the coach again. The dragon on that carriage was identical to the dragon in my Blue Boy’s painting. There was no mistake.
    I crossed the room, pausing in the upper hallway to listen. The men’s voices were mixed up with Miss Everts’s clear tones.
    I slipped along the passage to the stair and started down, trying to creep light-footed, as I had so many times in the woods. The voices issued not from the large front drawing room but from a small parlor closer to the rear of the house. As I turned onto the second flight down from the landing, I realized that I could not only see into that parlor from where I stood, I could see all of them standing there.
    The men had their backs to me. The gray-haired man was throwing his hands around like a country preacher; it was his booming voice I’d heard from upstairs.
    “. . . delivery for next week. This shipment is of especial importance.”
    “Is that why you’ve brought the boy?” Miss Everts’s tone was light, but I could sense the hostility in it from where I stood.
    “I’m putting my trust in young Will. I want to start turning these matters over to him. He needs to learn responsibility.” He put his hand on “young Will’s” shoulder. “Now, Phillipa. This arrangement has suited us both. I can guarantee that my son will be well trained.”
    I crept down two more treads. Now I could see directly into the room and into Miss Everts’s stony face.
    “Hmph. Trained in East Coast behavior, I take it,” she said. Her eyes flicked to the younger man. “How old are you, young man? I suppose you have a thorough understanding of the trade.”
    “I’m nineteen. And I believe I understand perfectly,” he replied. His voice was firm, but he glanced at his father; and in that glance I read deference, even uneasiness.
    So. The young prince wants to please his father.
    I crept down one more step. It was my undoing. My movement caught Miss Everts’s eye. And when her eye lit on me, the two men turned.
    “What’s this, Phillipa?” The gray-haired man had a lined face, but he might have been about Pa’s age or so. “You have a spy in the house?”
    “There are no spies in this house, William. The girl was simply descending the stairs. Come down, girl.”
    I obeyed her, straightening my back and walking with as much dignity as I could muster. A spy. I disliked this man already.
    I came into the parlor, clasping my rough hands behind my back, those rough hands that would give me away as a working girl. At least my clothes were decent, thanks to the new things Miss Everts had bought for me. I hoped the men would ignore my damp braid, which even now moistened my shirtwaist right down my spine.
    “Kula, this is Mr. William Henderson. Mr. Henderson is a force to be reckoned with here in San Francisco. He owns the two largest hotels as well as our principal bank. I tell you this so that you may greet him properly.”
    Miss Everts stood behind the two men, all of them facing me. For this reason I could see her face while they could not; her meaning was plain to me. She didn’t like William Henderson. She didn’t care one fig for all his forcefulness or his hotels or his bank. A game was in play here, and she wanted me in on her side of it.
    And I was at Phillipa Everts’s mercy. Regardless of how I felt about her or these goings-on, I did play her game. I curtsied. “So pleased to meet you, sir.” I turned to the younger Will.