Chapter Twenty-Nine: Erik and Grace Wrestle

                                    

                                          
Grace took her time shoving feather boas and old tiaras into a carpet bag that morning. Mai, it turns out was as obsessed with queens and princesses as Grace had been with the concept of music at that age. She was going to bring her a present. Or rather... a carpet bag full of them. 
   Grace left a little later than usual, but picked up the pace as she walked, completely unaware that she was being followed, too caught up in the image of Mai's delighted smile. 
     When she arrived, the first thing she did was cook breakfast for the ladies and tell Mai stories, as Catherine had once done for her. It scared her, to be standing in the kitchens, the sleeves of her old dress rolled up her forearms, telling stories to a little girl, just as much as it filled her paused heart with joy. She saw herself in Catherine's role, in both the good and bad ways. Catherine had been a woman who had been beaten down in life. She'd had good times, yes, but still, she'd ended up dying as a cook at a brothel. And yet she had also found delight in be coming friends with a little girl who needed and wanted to bond with her. 
   Mai needed Grace as much as Grace needed Mai. 
   After breakfast, Grace took Mai out into the alley, where a few flowers grew through the cracks in the pavement, and played dress up with her. They pretendes Mai was a Queen, abd Grace her dancer, and Grace even showed Mai a few positions.
   But Grace still had to work, so she brought Mai back inside.
     Neither one once felt the dark, burning ichor eyes scrutinizing them.
                                   🌹
   It had surprised Erik, to see Grace playing with the child. He didn't like children terribly  - now at least, since his Celine had left - and she didn't strike him as a girl who would ever want children. But somehow, there she was, genuinely smiling, letting her brightness shine through the tears in the veil of the role she normally played. She was being kind, loving, and friendly to the little girl, no doubt a revolting bastard child between a Frenchman and a whore.
   He was tired of watching though, and the brothel was beginning to empty. The perfect time to find out what he needed to. If he found Grace was... partaking in such activities, he was more than prepared to fire her. It would hurt, yes. But he would not allow her to divide her attention between this and her work for him. Whether he needed her to play the role of Renata or not in January.
      He drew his hood far down over his face, concealing the white mask beneath. Heaven forbid that gave away his cover.
  Painted, half dressed women reclined on sofas or stood in corners, entertaining a few gentlemen. From the sounds coming from upstairs, he judged that a few more were also... currently busy. 
    A young brunette with a painted face that had not yet begun to show the consequences of years of drink and debauchery approached him, a coquettish smile decorating her grotesquely red lips. Oh god if Celine were doing this at the moment he'd never forgive himself. 
   "May I help you, Monsieur? I am not entertaining anyone at the moment." She slid her hand up his shoulder, feeling the muscles of his arm. He shrugged her hand away, disgusted by her and the memories she brought forth.
   "I wonder why," he replied. "But you can help me. I'm looking for a Mademoiselle Grace -"
   "Grace does not take visitors!" Erik's eyes snapped to an older blonde woman who had been seated on a sofa. Her face betrayed sudden anxiety and pure horror. Well that was interesting.
    "And what would you want Grace for? I'm sure I'm much more fun than she," said the brunette.
   Erik ignored her, walking over to the blonde.