Pat Tracy - Burke's Rules

“Be sure and give Emma my best.”

“She’s the reason I dropped by.”

Surprised, Burke returned to his chair. “How so?”

“She has a favor to ask of you.”

The chill paid a return visit. Burke rotated his shoulders. “What kind of favor?”

“It involves her friend Jayne Stoneworthy. You might remember her. She was one of the guests at our wedding. Anyway, Miss Stoneworthy is starting a school for young ladies and...”

Burke heard the drone of Gideon’s voice as he would have heard the hum of a bee in the background. Remember Jayne Stoneworthy? He almost laughed aloud. Of course, he remembered her. Her image had hovered at the edges of his thoughts since that otherwise ordinary afternoon he’d first seen her.

Their paths had first crossed in the sanctuary of his home. Before the school had burned down, he’d been prevailed upon by the Hempshire Academy to open his private art gallery for occasional student tours. One afternoon he’d strode into his residence and encountered a flock of giggling schoolgirls about to return to their school. His housekeeper had casually introduced their intrepid leader. Jayne Stoneworthy.

It was hardly a momentous meeting. Midday, his house a-clutter with chattering girls. He’d been late for a meeting with the Guardsmen and was in a hurry to make up for lost time. Detached and impatient, he’d waited in his entry. Then he’d caught his first glance of her. His initial impression had been that of a woman virtually hidden by a dark cloak and unflattering bonnet. Buried beneath the flowing folds of her cloak, she appeared to be slight of frame and of average height.

Their gazes had caught. He’d found himself being politely investigated by a pair of intelligent green eyes that evidenced no sign of feminine timidity. Something inside his chest had tightened.

Then, amid a flurry of thank-yous, she and her charges were gone. The encounter had lasted less than ten seconds. And yet, at odd times, her image infiltrated his thoughts.

He’d seen her again at Gideon’s impromptu wedding to Emma. His gaze had tracked her through the throng of well-wishers. Evidently content to occupy the fringes of the room, Miss Stoneworthy again had pricked his interest. She certainly did nothing deliberate to draw his attention. There were no soulful glances, no fluttering eyelashes, no coquettish mannerisms to accentuate her feminine charms. Yet her quiet demeanor had made him want to draw closer.

She was hardly the kind of woman he ought to be attracted to. Oh, her dark-golden hair appeared beguilingly silky. Her green eyes, slightly tilted as they were, radiated a tempting warmth. And her delicately shaped mouth invited the brush of his own lips to investigate their improbable softness. Without the cloak, her shape was definitely female. Her modestly designed dress didn’t conceal her bosom’s petite fullness, the sleek curve of her trim waist and the gentle flare of her hips.

It was her expression, however, that of propriety wrapped in the impregnable armor of chastity-until-marriage, that should have rendered her off-limits. Hers was the kind of innocent appeal that struck terror in the hearts of confirmed bachelors. Her virtue shone as brightly as her golden hair. The price of that virtue was, of course, marriage.

“So I would appreciate you dropping by.”

Gideon’s statement fell into Burke’s thoughts with the soft splash of a stone sinking into a deep pool of water. Drop by where?

Gideon leaned forward in his chair. “Well?”

Not wanting to betray his distraction over a woman with whom he’d exchanged only the briefest greeting, Burke steepled his fingertips and frowned thoughtfully. “Could you be a little more specific?”

Gideon’s eyebrows knitted. “I thought I had been. Emma wants you to go to the Wet Beaver and check on how Miss Stoneworthy is coming along.”

Shock slammed into Burke. The Wet Beaver was a notorious Denver brothel. What the hell was going on? Pronouncing the names of the teacher and the cathouse in the same breath was akin to blasphemy.

“Coming along, how?” A cold rage built within him at the thought of Miss Stoneworthy selling herself several times a night to any man with the coin to purchase her sweet warmth.

“With her school, of course. Weren’t you listening?”

“I must have missed something. Explain what Miss Stoneworthy is doing in a whorehouse.”

“A former whorehouse,” Gideon corrected. “It closed down, and she bought the building. Like I said, she’s sunk all her money into renovating it and turning it into a school for young women.”

The tension that gripped Burke eased. “That’s crazy. No one’s going to send their daughter to a place that was once a house of prostitution.”

“I know it, and you know it. Unfortunately, Miss Stoneworthy has no idea that the Wet Beaver was anything other than a tavern. For obvious reasons, the former owner neglected to disclose the fact. Anyway, she’s running low on cash, and Emma’s concerned about her. There’s a long-lost uncle who’s supposedly sending a bank draft to help out, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Using the bank draft for such an enterprise would be throwing good money after bad.”

“I agree. So does Emma.”

Burke regarded his friend quizzically. “What precisely do you want me to do?”

“According to Emma, Miss Stoneworthy wouldn’t have bought the building if she’d known what it had been used for. She’s not stupid, just naive.”

“But now that she does know—”

“That’s just it, she doesn’t,” Gideon interjected. “Emma only found out a short while ago.”

“How did that happen?” Burke asked, fascinated by the amazing phenomenon of the prim Miss Stoneworthy owning a brothel.

“I told her, of course. Anyway, Miss Stoneworthy needs help, and Emma feels you’re the best person to provide it.”

“Remind me what you want me to do,” Burke said warily.

“Inform her that she has to move her school, find her a new building and provide enough cash to cover her expenses until she begins making money.”

Silence descended in Burke’s office. He considered Gideon Cade and Hunter Moran his two best friends. He would risk his life for either man. But all things considered, Emma and Gideon were asking a hell of a favor.

“As I said,” Gideon continued, “I’ll supply the necessary funds. Miss Stoneworthy is apparently a proud woman who won’t let Emma help any more than she already has.”

“So, what you’re asking is that I inform Miss Stoneworthy she’s bought a whorehouse and find her a new building—with you underwriting all costs?”

“Right.”

Burke shook his head. “I’ve got to ask, why me?”

“You’re a banker.”

“And?”

“You lend money. Miss Stoneworthy will accept funds from you where she wouldn’t accept a loan from a friend. Just visit her at the Wet Beaver.”

“She’s living there?”

“Emma invited her to stay with us, but Miss Stoneworthy insists on remaining, even during the remodeling.”

“So, I walk into her place and say, ‘I’m Burke Youngblood. This used to be a brothel, so you can’t have your school here, after all. I’ll help you sell this building. And, since I’m a banker, I’ll lend you money to buy another place.”’ There was no way to keep the mockery from his words.

“That’s it,” Gideon said, ignoring the sarcasm.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me to do something so crazy.”

“She’s Emma’s friend, and she needs help.”

“Which she won’t accept from you?”

“But because she’s sensible, she will accept a loan from a banker.”

“A sensible woman doesn’t buy a brothel!”