It would have been simpler if Evie could have cried, but she couldn't. Dry-eyed, she touched her hand to the glass door knob, clenched it as if she could drain strength from it, then forced herself to open the door and walk out. She would go through with this. She had to go through with this. What difference did it make if a prostitute despised her for it?
She let herself out the side door and stumbled on the stairs in the darkness. She clutched the wooden railing and kept herself from falling, but it felt the same as if she had. She felt as if she had been delivered a solid blow to the stomach. She was going to be sick if she didn't get out of here soon.
She couldn't hurry. She had to catch up her long skirt and petticoat in one hand and maneuver the rain-slick steps while grasping the railing with the other. She was actually leaving a bordello in the dark of night after asking the inhabitants for a way to get rid of the child growing within her. She had come a long way down since leaving St. Louis and Nanny's protection. There wasn't any way her bubble of dreams could survive.
But she would fall even farther if she kept the child. She didn't have the money to do what her own mother had apparently done. She couldn't pay someone to take her bastard and hide it. She couldn't afford to raise it. There simply wasn't any other choice.
As if stifling the one other solution made it appear in person, a familiar form loomed before Evie when she stepped off the bottom stair. Tyler caught her shoulder and jerked her against him, wrapping his long canvas coat around her to keep her from the sudden cloudburst of rain.
"What in hell were you doing up there?" Tyler growled, hurrying Evie away from the sounds of a tinkling piano and male laughter and the sultry song of a woman issuing from the lighted building behind them.
"None of your business," Evie muttered through chattering teeth. Now that she had done it, set the clock in motion, she was going to fall apart. Even her knees were trembling. She was almost grateful that Tyler was holding her up. Almost. She wished he would shut up and go away. This was all his fault. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon. And she didn't like the way his arm felt wrapped around her waist. She didn't like the heat of him beneath the coat. She was going to be sick in a minute.
As if he sensed her impending collapse, Tyler pulled her into a darkened doorway. He blocked the rain with his back and let her lean against the wall. The night was too thick to see more than the paleness of her face. It had been so long since he had seen her this close that he had almost forgotten how fragile she was. She had taken the form of an unforgiving phoenix in his mind. But she was still Evie, the lovely liar who had released the beast in him.
"I can't think of any good reason for you to be in that place, Miss Peyton. You'd better start talking fast." Tyler tried to be abrupt. He really didn't want to know what she was doing up there. But instinct had kept him alive more than once, and he was overcome by a powerful instinct now. Or premonition. He wanted to shake her.
Evie whipped her head back and forth. "Go away. It's none of your business. Just go away. I'm sure Starr is waiting for you. You wouldn't want to disappoint her now, would you?"
She was recovering some of her old self, but not fast enough. Tyler waited for the lies to begin. "Starr waits for any man with money in his pockets. That's got nothing to do with this. Are you going to tell me what you were doing up there or should I begin guessing?"
"You may guess all you like. Let me by, Mr. Monteigne, or I shall scream and tell everyone that you are molesting me." Evie straightened her shoulders and stood firmly on her feet.
"Do that, Miss Peyton, and let everyone question what the new schoolmistress was doing outside a saloon on a Friday night. Since I know for a fact that you're not the type to sell your porcelain body, shall I offer a conjecture or two?"