My inability to respond must have insulted him, because Rother’s tone became cold and harsh, reminding me of my father.
“You may find this whole enterprise repulsive, but I built a fortune by it large enough to convince your father to accept my marriage contract. It is not illegal in any shape of the word. You need to stop applying your damned Deilian principles to everything. You’re a Marisolian now.”
I gasped, as replaying Rother’s history in my head made a frightful connection. “Your first client. The Deilian lord…. He wasn’t my father, was he? Is that why he agreed?”
If it was possible to roll your eyes in anger, Rother succeeded. “Oh please, Nathan. This isn’t some dubious fiction. Your father agreed because I could well afford the dowry. It was strictly business. Just like everything, no matter how decadent, that goes on in Delaga House.”
Humiliated didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. It was a far-fetched idea, and I wished I’d never uttered it.
Rother’s snarl showed he hadn’t forgiven me. “Do you need more details at this point?”
I shook my head. I’d had more than enough for now and I didn’t know what to do with my newfound knowledge.
“I need to go. Delaga House is still open. You were fortunate to be born into your wealth and privilege. Some of us had to earn it. I have work to do and as the proprietor, I’m not accustomed to explaining myself.” Rother stepped close and lowered his voice. “I expect the people under me—all of them—to do what they’re told.”
I nodded with full understanding for the first time since I arrived. “All right. I’ll be staying up here for the rest of the evening.”
“An excellent idea.” As he strode out of the room, he waved to the remnants of my escape. “If you get bored, you can put the door and lock to rights before I get back.”
HARSTON POURED my tea as I sat watching the early sunshine on the screened porch. It filtered through the garden trees and brought the touch of civility I needed to ground me. After Harston helped dress me, we’d moved downstairs so I could indulge in the quiet. Rother still slept, as did much of the staff. Given last night’s activities, it was no surprise the morning held little life.
“Sit with me, Harston.”
“Sir?”
“The social hierarchy is different here. It will be easier to change if I start with someone whose company I enjoy.” I motioned to the next seat. “Please.”
Harston’s movements were stilted, as if I’d made an inappropriate request, but he pulled back the adjoining chair and sat beside me. When I picked up the teapot and poured him a cup, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“We’re not crossing boundaries, we’re redrawing them. Things are different in Marisol, and we need to learn to become part of it. We’ve known each other for a long time. You’re still my attendant, but I’d like to think of you as my friend as well.”
The controlled smile and faint blush on Harston’s cheeks told me I’d said the right thing. “Thank you.”
I took my first sip of Marisolian tea. It was bold and complex, much like its people. I hoped I might find a way to be part of that someday and feel far less like an outsider.
“How have you been faring in Delaga House?”
“Well, I think. Alexandra gave me a good sorting after we arrived. The staff have been kind.”
“Even Vivian?” I peered at him from the corner of my eye.
“She seems nice.”
I shot Harston a knowing look. He ducked his head and averted his eyes.
“Blythe warned me about her. I’ve kept my distance.”
That sounded more like my faithful right hand. I chuckled softly, reveling in the genuine moment. There had been so few of them, considering how much information was being withheld from me.
“I heard what happened last night. Are you sure you’re all right?” Harston hadn’t stopped eyeing the bruise on my cheek since we came downstairs. The dull sting faded as I watched a flock of small birds race between the branches. As they fluttered from tree to tree, their melodic tweeting soothed me, showing a beauty I’d missed since arriving.
I huffed. “I believe the wound to my pride is the worst. Although I probably would have fared better if Rother had confided in me.” I took a sip of my tea as I marshaled my nerve. “When did you find out about… the business side of things?” I still cringed at my choice of words, that I couldn’t say brothel out loud. Would I forever find coarse ideas so hard to voice?
“When you and Lord Rother were—” Harston cleared his throat. “—consummating in your chambers.”
An embarrassed laugh burst out of me and I nearly spilled my tea. “That was a rather bold response. How much chatting with Blythe have you been doing?”
“Enough to have the house’s purpose explained to me.”
“Were you shocked?”
“Somewhat. But I’m not a noble, Sir Nathan—”
I raised a hand. “Please. Just Nathan from now on. We both need to adapt.”
“Nathan….” Harston grimaced as he forced himself to break his habits. He was doing a better job than myself. “I come from poorer stock. A man does what he needs to when he makes his living.”
“So it doesn’t bother you?”
“It’s not what I would have chosen, but there are worse fates. I could be out on the street with no options at all.”
An uncomfortable thought came to mind. “They didn’t expect you to… serve customers, did they?”
Harston shook his head and chuckled. “Only drinks. Not everyone does that sort of work here.”
I let out a cleansing sigh. Acceptance would be difficult enough without the idea of my trusted servant being coerced into becoming a courtesan, whether he agreed or not.
“I’m more worried about you, sir…. Nathan.”
My surprise was obvious. “About me?”
“Yes. Even though it wasn’t all perfect, you’ve lived a grand life. You were born a Deilian lord. We should all wish for great things. Delaga House is nothing like back home. I had a hard time picturing you settling in.” A small crease appeared between his brows. “A man of your breeding should be above all this.”
“Part of me thinks I should be. But part of me feels very sheltered and spoiled. I find this whole business so unsavory, but I can’t fault its success. It was a hard life, but Rother built his fortune on it. I can’t ignore that, even if I don’t approve.”
I hadn’t stopped repeating Rother’s history to myself throughout the night. Even in the wee hours when he finally returned to our bed, slumping into exhaustion. It was a harsh reminder of how fortunate I’d been in spite of the trials I’d endured. While I might have been forced to wear the chastity belt for five years, there was never a time I didn’t have a roof over my head. I couldn’t even fathom the hardship.
“So what will you do?”
As scandalous as I found my husband’s profession, the thought of walking away from my marriage was far worse. Deilian lords and ladies didn’t do such things. I needed to salvage some part of my heritage. For my sanity. A surge of morning air filled my lungs, strengthening my resolve.
“Try to become a man of two lands, I suppose. I may not agree with everything, but I don’t have to abandon my duty and all my values to be a proper spouse and support my husband. I will learn to accept my new position and be what Rother needs me to be. It’s what I was taught to do.”
“Are you sure?”
I swallowed back my drink like my father did his whiskey, almost wishing for liquor at this early hour.
“Pour us some more tea, Harston.”
Chapter 9
“I THOUGHT you were shopping for clothes,” Blythe said.
I didn’t look his way as I entered the shop, Harston at my side. “I am. I need more clothing with a Marisol sensibility.”
Blythe sounded utterly confused. “Then why are we here?”
“Because there’s more to me than a new wardrobe.”
M
y head spun at all the lovely gadgets. The machinist shop appeared to have every conceivable tool and piece of clockwork known to man. My personal heaven. I’d managed to pry the address from Rother and added it to our route. It had been some time since I had something new and shiny.
The shop was impressive. I strummed my fingers along the rows of bins containing gears, springs, and gauges. My first outing within my new environment, and this was something I found familiar. Each tiny part made me smile, the warmth inside me growing with each step.
“So this mess gets you hot?” Blythe gave dubious stares at every item I paused over.
I was in too good a mood to answer. Along one display, I found an intriguing monocle, which appeared similar to the one I left back home.
“What does that do?”
I thumbed the dial, watching a variety of lenses spin into place. “It magnifies your view so you can work on devices with miniature parts.”
“Will that help fix the windup toy Rother has sitting next to the bed?”
“Ugh.” I nearly dropped the device. “How could you bring up such a topic?”
“So you’re saying you haven’t played with it?” Blythe grinned, no doubt pleased he gained a reaction from me.
“When he told me what it was for, I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. I also told him to keep it away from me. It can stay broken.” The vile thing had multiple appendages. No. Just no.
“So Rother’s not encouraging your hobby so you can create a bunch of toys for the house?”
“I should say not.”
Harston looked aghast at Blythe. “Your ideas are amazingly shameless.”
“Thank you.” He straightened his vest, wearing a mocking smirk.
“It’s not a compliment.”
“That’s just ’cause you’re new.” Blythe’s grin turned into a leer. “You’d change your tune if you got a little shameless all up in you.”
Harston went scarlet. Deciding it wasn’t worth ruining my good day, I walked away as they began to argue. Well, Harston argued. Blythe was far too entertained over the exchange. The poor shop owner looked lost. I wandered to the opposite side, pretending to be alone.
I lost track of time playing with clockwork baubles, imagining all sorts of new and wonderful possible creations. The shop was quiet once more when Blythe appeared next to me. Alone.
“Where’s Harston?”
“Waiting for us outside. I may have offended his sensibilities a bit.”
“No doubt.”
“I’m not on the payroll to be pretty.”
“I never would have guessed.”
After checking on Harston through the front window, I continued my tour. I added a number of tools to my collection. One could never have enough. With every step, Blythe was my constant shadow. From his expression, there was nothing of interest in here.
“You must find this all incredibly boring.”
He shrugged. “Yeah. But at some point you’ll move on, start shopping for clothes, and we’ll get to the undergarments.”
Two weeks had passed since my unfortunate introduction to Delaga House’s mysteries. Blythe’s penchant for shocking me had less power than when I arrived, but he still managed to catch me off guard regularly. I was adjusting, but slowly. I found if I treated his barbs as a challenge, they unsettled me less. However, it didn’t mean I approved of his abhorrent outbursts.
“Do you ever spend time thinking about something other than young men in their undergarments?”
“I often spend time picturing young men out of their undergarments.”
He was so earnest, I wanted to scream. Rother had his bawdy side, but Blythe’s uncouth manner bordered on corrupt. He reveled in his lusts and harbored no regrets for them. Five minutes in his presence would make my mother faint. And not with one of her stage-faints, either. It would be real.
In contrast, he held an uncanny loyalty. At no time did I ever feel he shirked his duty. He’d already proved his dedication to protecting me. So much so, he insisted on escorting Harston and I, and I realized it wasn’t to be an isolated incident.
“Am I to assume every time I step out the door I’m to be saddled with you?”
“My job is to protect Rother’s interests. So, yes.” He nudged me with his giant shoulder, nearly knocking me into a wall of bolts and screws. “Admit it. You like me.”
“I tolerate you. And my offer to drag you behind the moving carriage still stands.”
“If it keeps me employed, I’m good with that.”
Verbal sparring aside, he still chafed me.
“How exactly did you come into Rother’s employ? I can only imagine the sordid stories most of the men and women have, and Rother gave me an abbreviated history on how he and Alexandra became acquainted.”
Blythe’s off-color attitude sobered, his voice roughening. “I imagine he gave you enough details.”
I paused, my curiosity in full bloom. Nothing fazed the man, but he sounded reluctant to answer.
“Not enough to fashion a story.”
“How much did he say?” I hadn’t known the man long, but he’d never spoken in such cautious tones to me.
“Only that you liked the boys, but were never one of them.”
“That’s true.”
“It still doesn’t tell me how you met.”
“Why would you want to know?” He stepped in close, lowering his voice and towering over me. No doubt it was an attempt to intimidate me. I was far too intrigued to be shooed away, so I raised my chin.
“You know more about my history than I do about yours. I think it would only be fair. After all that’s gone on, I deserve to know more about the man assigned to protect me.”
Blythe’s face stiffened, giving away so much indecision.
“Now you have nothing to say?”
The uncharacteristic discomfort Blythe met me with intrigued me. It was not like him at all.
Clearing his throat, Blythe looked away. “You won’t think much of me if I tell you.”
“I don’t think much of you now. How will that make any difference?”
Blythe snorted as he tried to suppress his grin. I wasn’t sure goading him would work, but he looked around the shop, making sure no one was close by. A long minute passed, and he lowered his voice.
“Only Rother and Alexandra know. You can’t breathe a word to anyone. Even Harston.”
“You have my word.”
“I was waiting to hang when Rother found me.”
Now I was the uncomfortable one. “I don’t understand. For what?”
Blythe threw a glance at the shopkeeper across the store. “Piracy….”
“You were a pirate?” I wanted to laugh—the whole idea sounded ludicrous—but Blythe was so sincere I kept quiet. My bodyguard was repulsive in many ways, but a liar? No, but I still found it all so hard to believe. “How is that even possible?”
“Some men find themselves with few options. No money, no home. You take what you can get. We’re not all so fortunate.”
Intended or not, I felt a sting at his words. One hears stories of brigands on the seas, but men of my upbringing were hardly expected to meet one. “You’re right. I guess I can’t picture that kind of existence.”
“It gave me a life, such as it was. I loved being at sea. We prowled the North Straits. No rules. Taking what we wanted.”
“And a man hangs for that?”
“No. A man hangs for murder.”
Dread pinched at my chest, but I refused to overreact. “What happened?”
“On the way to Demanthia, a crew member wound up dead. Turned out he was an officer spying on us. We weren’t exactly law-abiding citizens. Heard he got drunk and spilled his guts. When he missed a meeting in port, the Naval fleet boarded us and the captain gave me up.”
I hesitated, not knowing whether I truly wanted the answer. “You didn’t….”
Blythe shook his head. “I barely laid eyes on him, and I never even spoke to the man.”
>
“The captain blamed you? Did he have no honor?”
“Not many of us did.”
“Why in the world would he do such a thing?”
“Pretty sure because his boy liked my cock better.”
Unprepared, I cringed and my cheeks heated from the crude statement. A quick glance to be sure the owner hadn’t heard, and I drifted farther down the aisle, pretending interest in a series of clockwork springs.
“How does Rother enter into this?”
“He was traveling, looking for hired muscle. Delaga House was brand-new. I was scheduled to hang in forty-eight hours. I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my day, but I didn’t kill that man. Rother was the only one who believed me.”
“How did you avoid your sentence?”
“Rother had Alexandra distract the guards. They stole the key and all the criminal records at the guardhouse. They broke me out.”
“How did Alexandra distract… never mind. That was a stupid question.”
“We changed my name, cleaned me up, and I became a new man of Marisol. I’ve never looked back.”
“What happened to the legal documents?”
“Rother keeps them in his safe as insurance, but he doesn’t need them. My pride is all I need to be loyal. I’m a good man with means now. I owe Rother my life.”
Blythe’s current definition of what constituted being a good man made me wonder how corrupt he’d been before his arrest. Perception was relative, no doubt. Even so, his conviction couldn’t be mistaken, and I had to reserve any judgments on that basis alone. Not counting his willingness to confide such sensitive information, of course. Something else bothered me. Blythe’s past, while alarming, was not the burr in my heel.
Rother went shopping in a prison and used the situation to conscript the man into service.
It was a subversive thought. One which could create any number of difficulties if I explored it. My husband’s business practices were not becoming easier to accept. The immoral aspects were troubling enough, but was there a common theme? Alexandra indebted herself to Rother after being rescued. Coincidence? Rother understood people and their needs and desires. His industry required it. Would more of his employees have similar tales? Was I searching for conspiracies where none truly existed?
Innocence and Carnality Page 11
