Page 1 of Heart Over Heels

PROLOGUE

Chicago, IL

September 30th, 1894

DARBY

It was a series of unforgivable offenses.

First, the laudanum that I bought then slipped into John Hooper’s tea. He always fancied a drink after fucking, reliable man. Who was I to deny him?

Second, packing a bag with all my favorite things. Well, most of them. My best corset had been ruined by the memory of the foul-smelling fellow who liked to untie it with his teeth, so I left it behind.

But I brought the ivory dress that reminded me of a wedding gown, hoping it might finally become one.

Third, the note I left for my mother, explaining everything and nothing. If I had told her where I was going, she’d be sure to inform Madam, who would doubtless send for me. Madam knew men in power all over Chicago, and many of them knew me, intimately. They wouldn’t abide me fleeing at dusk and leaving John Hooper unconscious in my bed.

They wouldn’t understand.

With my bag on my hip and my savings in my pocket, I clambered out my bedroom window and into the early night then made my way across town.

We’d set a rendezvous point. My beloved Micah was to meet me at the docks, where a steamer would take us down the river. We’d reach Milwaukee by morning, and there, we’d begin our forever.

I found a quiet place to wait, tucked out of sight with an easy vantage over the dock. I’d see Micah before he saw me, and my heart would sing like it always did. I’d think of the ivory dress packed neatly away and imagine us clasping hands and exchanging vows. I would finally belong to someone. No longer parceled out to any man able to buy me.

That was what I’d told Mama in my note. With Micah, I would be loved, the way she loved me.

Since I was born, she’d fought to keep me at the parlor house, claiming that was better than turning me out onto the streets. She was never more relieved than after I’d come of age and stayed small, so petite for a man, so appealing to our clients.

My body had guaranteed my place at the parlor house for as long as I wanted it.

But I didn’t want it anymore.

I wanted Micah and the future he promised.

So I waited.

Darkness settled while the steamer boat tarried at the water’s edge. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the first stars emerged. Night brought a chill while I huddled in my hiding place, still waiting. It wasn’t too late.

I should have brought a watch or some way to note the passing time because it felt as though I hunkered there for hours. When the boat prepared to depart, my growing worry reached full bloom. I poked my head out and glanced around. I’dobserved plenty of passengers coming and going, but not the one I wanted to see. Not the one I expected.

Slowly, I peeked over the stack of crates I’d taken shelter behind, scanning the waterfront and the sailors pulling in the gangplank.

Would I let the steamer leave without me?

Would I leave without Micah?

“Hey, little lady.”

A stranger’s voice made me jump. I flinched back into a crate and collided with a hard knock.

“Whoa!” The man raised his hands then glanced around before fixing me with a slanted grin. “No need to fret. What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?”

He had predator’s eyes.

I knew how a patron would treat me based on that singular trait. It was a glint. A hint of menace. Those were the ones who fucked me like they hated me. Or like they hated themselves for wanting me. They filled me with their contempt then left me to wallow in it.

I wondered if it was because of my color or my cock.