Innocence and Carnality

by J. Alan Veerkamp

  “No, I’m just not the right man for him.”

  Ingrained lessons came to the front and I blurted out my comment as if I’d never left Deilia. “I’m not sure I approve of such casual liaisons.”

  “Of course you can’t. I may have been born in Deilia, but I was never a nobleman. We servants looked up to you lot, wanted to be like you, but knew we never would be. Holding such high virtues were your goal, not ours. And knowing how your brothers caroused with the maids, some of the lords held those standards higher than others.”

  I cursed myself internally. Expecting Harston to follow Deilian protocols when he was not a noble or living in a Deilian manor was hardly fair. The goal was to soften my rigid edges. Shouldn’t he be afforded the same option? Perhaps I was jealous of his ability.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You should be free to use your time however you see fit. My approval shouldn’t be necessary.”

  “But it is. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You haven’t. I’m just falling into old habits. I want you to find a man who can treat you properly. Are you happy with indiscretions that can’t lead to more?”

  He shrugged. “For now. Sometimes we have to take our happiness in small doses.”

  “From what I saw, the dose wasn’t that small.”

  Harston gaped at me. “Nathan!”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh! I didn’t mean to say that out loud!”

  We stared at each other until both of us burst into laughter. My hand did little to stifle my hysterical outburst, and I howled until tears began to form. The nearest tree became a makeshift support, keeping me from falling into an undignified pile. In our outrageous foolishness, I forgot to care enough to look and hide myself from spying eyes.

  “That was scandalous.” Each of Harston’s words were stilted between fits of humor.

  I struggled to catch my breath as more chuckles bubbled out of me. “I know! I can’t believe I said such a thing. I really am sorry for walking in the way I did.”

  “No more than I am. I worried you’d be upset.”

  “I’d like to believe we’ve been through enough together to forgive both our transgressions.”

  “Back home, you’d have sacked me.”

  My amusement drowned. Harston was right. In Deilia, a servant openly caught in a delicate position would be let go immediately. The risk of allowing such scandal to play out under your roof couldn’t be allowed. It could stain the household reputation, which was unforgivable. With what I’d learned of my family, it was the height of hypocrisy.

  “You’re probably right. But we don’t live in the walls of Deilia any longer. I don’t need to follow all of its stuffy rules if it doesn’t suit me any longer.” I quietly laughed at myself in reflection. “Maybe living here has rubbed off on me after all. Maybe.”

  “Maybe it has.”

  “Do you think it’s a good thing?” Was it possible I was changing? It was a somewhat difficult proposition to see. The last thing I wanted was to lose myself in the transition.

  Harston replied with a bright grin. The kind that lightened the world with its subtle brilliance. “I’d like to think so.”

  Chapter 10

  I RESISTED the urge to tap my fingers on the chair rail. “So once you’ve decided I’m ready, in what capacity shall I be working for Delaga House? I think it’s fair to assume you don’t want my help with the accounting.”

  Rother closed the ledger before him. “I should say not.”

  The office equaled the rest of Delaga House with its lush wine-colored walls and elegant furniture. I stood calmly before the massive carved mahogany desk, upright and poised in spite of the lack of rigid Deilian dress designed to force one’s posture. Marisol may have held a laxer standard, but I doubted a lifetime of teaching would ever undo my automatic manners and decorum.

  “You’ll be my cohost. On my arm at all times and using your precious protocol lessons to dazzle my high-end clients.”

  As much as I felt capable of playing my part and that the nature of Delaga House’s business appalled me, I was grateful Rother had paid enough attention to know how I would be most useful. Years of lessons wouldn’t be wasted after all.

  “I think that makes the most sense. I want to contribute. The idea of lazing about the house being idle sounds horrible.”

  Rother placed the book into the wall-mounted safe, filled with cash and other random items. Its cast-iron door closed with a solid thunk-and-whirr of the combination. A simple but effective construction, it was well manufactured.

  “And my business practices don’t offend you anymore?”

  “Of course they do. But I think not doing my part to support my husband is a shameful way to exist. Deilians believe the family name to be a valuable asset.”

  “Even under these circumstances?”

  I had to pause. It all still bothered me, but I worked to contain it. “I’d like to believe even the staunchest moralist family in Deilia has a secret or two amongst them. I’m sure I can serve the business and uphold some kind of standard. I don’t have to abandon everything to be by your side.”

  “Boss, about tomorrow night—” Blythe rooted himself in the doorway at the sight of me. His face impassive and unreadable, a tight tension coiled through his massive frame as he continued to stare me down. I braced myself for the sly grin and jibe about the other night, but he stood wordless, which confused me greatly. Where was the crass joke leaving me blushing in horror?

  “What about tomorrow night?” Rother asked.

  Blythe shook himself out of his macabre silence, grumbling out a response. “You’re busy. I’ll come back.”

  With his head held low, he rushed out of the office. I watched him storm down the hall, not even looking back over his shoulder as he turned the corner. Last night I’d imagined and rehearsed various scenarios so I could prepare myself for his crude wit with a scathing retort, so Blythe’s behavior left me a bit dumbstruck.

  Rother’s voice directly behind me made me jump. “What was that all about?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think he’s upset with me after I interrupted him and Harston the other night.”

  “How do you mean interrupted? You never really said what happened.”

  I huffed and rubbed my forehead, trying to ignore away the memory. “I pushed open the door without knocking. And there they were….”

  “What did you do?”

  “I was too shocked to do anything. I suppose the sight kicked a few gears loose in my head.”

  Rother’s brow arched in surprise, his volume rising. “So you stood there and watched?”

  “Not on purpose, and not for long. They saw me and stopped.”

  “I imagine Blythe wasn’t pleased.”

  “Understandably, neither one was.”

  “Was Blythe angry?”

  I shook my head. “I think so, but it’s hard to be sure sometimes. I had no idea what to make of his reaction.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He waltzed over, as easy as you please, and shut the door in my face. He didn’t even attempt to cover himself. The man has zero modesty.”

  Rother stepped around me, deliberately blocking my view of the hall. His visage darkened as his question took on an unpleasant tenor. “Give you a good look, did he? Is that why you were so eager when you returned?”

  Once again, I was faced with his more possessive nature. I wasn’t sure if I found it flattering given the implication. The idea was utterly ridiculous. Hopefully this wasn’t going to be a recurring headache to bear.

  Reaching up, I caressed his jacket lapel between my fingers as I tilted my head without losing eye contact. “If I recall, you planted that dirty seed in my ear before I’d left the room.”

  The ugly, jealous vibration in my husband faded as he pondered. “I suppose you’re right.” The snarl curled into something wicked as he reached out, gently closing and locking the office door. “Perhaps we should tak
e this time to continue your education. I believe there are essential skills you should be practicing.”

  Invading my personal space, he ghosted his fingers through my hair, sending shivers racing over my skin. Combined with his proximity, his touch was fracturing my resolve. His skill at unraveling me with simple efforts continued to frustrate me. I knew full well what Rother was after, but being coy was in my nature, even if I enjoyed—if not looked forward to—my lessons. I would never be some cheap public house tart begging for sweaty attention.

  “What exactly did you have in mind, sir?”

  The soft laugh as Rother traced my lips with his fingertip was sinful, bringing my body to further attention. With a casual step, he circled me, heading for the guest chair facing the desk. Hooking the leg with his foot, he rotated the chair to face the room. Rother unbuckled his trousers and fished out his swelling sex. Dropping himself into the seat, he leaned back and spread his thighs wide. He beckoned me with a simple gesture.

  “Some skills are best performed and practiced on your knees.”

  A GENTLE rap on my bedroom door caught my attention, ceasing my circular pacing by gaslight.

  “May I come in?” Alexandra asked.

  “Of course. What brings you here?” Alexandra was one staff member I rarely had the opportunity to interact with, she was so busy running the household. She closed the door behind her, and I welcomed the private moment.

  “I just wanted to check in on you. Are you ready for your first night as cohost?”

  “I think so.”

  Her skirt rustled softly as she closed the gap between us, and her heels made barely a sound on the hardwood floors. Alexandra looked stunning in her leather dress and top hat. Elegant, severe, and fierce, she was ready for the Delaga House festivities to begin, the ringmaster to our bizarre circus. The buckles and straps across her body and limbs should have been restrictive, yet she moved with a fluid grace all her own.

  Her radiant smile warmed me as she sampled my jacket’s cut with a gossamer brush of her hand. “Look at you. Dignified yet attractive, but not on display. Excellent choice. It suits you much better than your original couture.”

  “I could say the same to you, my dear lady.”

  She beamed. “Such a gentleman.”

  “Harston selected most of it. His tastes have always been excellent.”

  “As are his instincts. Are you nervous?”

  I put my hand in my pocket to stop fidgeting with my cuffs. “Not at all.”

  “Harston tells me you’ve barely eaten all day.”

  I huffed. “The little snitch. He’s supposed to be my confidant.” My veiled annoyance only served to draw a sultry laugh from Alexandra’s full lips.

  “He’s only looking out for your best interests. Everyone should have such a friend.”

  “All right, I admit it. I’m nervous.”

  Alexandra reached up, grazing her touch over my looser hairstyle with approval. “I run the operations of Delaga House on and off business hours. And I take a special interest in the welfare of everyone under its roof. Not only the staff.”

  “You have enough tasks to govern. I wouldn’t want to burden you.”

  “It’s only a burden when something goes wrong when it doesn’t need to.” She cupped my cheek, the leather glove far warmer than I expected.

  “And I assure you, I’m ready. It’s been a difficult transition to life in Marisol, but I’ll have a better chance to condition myself if I jump right in.”

  “If it helps, I think you’ve done well given the sudden change.”

  My cheeks flushed and I smiled. “Thank you. It does. I finally feel like I can perform my duties and stand at my husband’s side. It galls me to fall flat on that front.”

  “So you’re comfortable living and working within this den of iniquity?”

  The question stalled me with its brutal honesty. I’d asked myself the same thing several times tonight alone. Something about Alexandra always drew my fascination. Perhaps it was an innate maternal quality my mother didn’t possess. No intrigue or potential duplicity sat on the edge of her words. I knew all too well how to spot such things. So, I gave her the truth. She deserved as much for all the kindness she’d shown me since I arrived.

  “Please don’t take offense, but no, I’m not. The whole thing flies in the face of everything I grew up with. But I’ve learned there are many so-called virtuous souls in Deilia whose sins are equal to any here. In Marisol, you’re simply more honest about your vices. I have to learn to respect that. If my marriage is to succeed, I need to stop balking at Rother’s profession. He’s made himself a wealthy man by it. That smacks of a keen intellect. I can’t begrudge him his efforts.”

  With a serious tilt of her head, she continued. “But it still bothers you.”

  “I imagine it will for some time. In Deilia, intimacy outside of marriage is high scandal, something to avoid at all costs. Now that I live in Marisol, I struggle to adjust my views. However, putting on a happy face is a lifelong skill in my homeland. I’d like to think if I keep repeating it to myself, it will be real soon enough. I want to be able to do this for Rother.”

  “You two are finally coming along well?”

  I nearly rolled my eyes. “We haven’t exactly made it easy for ourselves. We didn’t know each other to start, and our backgrounds are much more different than I expected in a husband.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  “He does have a bit of a tiresome penchant for jealousy, but I can see us learning to love each other as time passes.”

  Alexandra glanced away, noticing the voices in the hallway. “I’m glad. Be patient with him. Rother needs someone who can balance out his considerably rough edges. You’re good for him.”

  “I hope you’re right—what is that noise?”

  I could easily make out Harston’s voice directly outside the door, growing in volume.

  “You can’t just go in there! That’s Rother and Nathan’s private bedroom!”

  The responding growl was distinctly Blythe. “No kidding. I know where I’m going.”

  My bedroom door lurched open, my bodyguard stomping in carrying two large crates stacked in his arms. Harston growled as he pulled futilely, hanging on Blythe’s sleeve.

  “Nathan, I’m sorry—”

  Blythe shot an annoyed look at my valet. “Relax, princess. Be done in a moment.”

  While it was nice Blythe was over his silence in my presence, I found myself wishing for a reversion.

  Alexandra took notice of the crates. “What is this?”

  “Workmen delivered them an hour ago. Can’t leave them in the foyer. It’s a business night.”

  “You can’t do this!” Harston fumed, unafraid of the lumbering giant.

  Blythe set the crates in the bedroom’s center. “I’m not carrying them back down four flights.”

  I sighed. “And why, pray tell, are you dropping them in my bedroom?” I pinched my nose because the expression simmering under my skin was far ruder than I wanted.

  Blythe stared at me as if I should already know the answer. “Because they’re yours.”

  “What do you mean they’re mine?”

  Blythe shrugged. “That’s what the workmen said.”

  The boxes were nondescript. Simple, crude wood constructs. No address or transport seals marked the rough surfaces. What could they be?

  “Did they say who sent them?”

  “They didn’t know.” Blythe raised the pry bar hanging from his belt loop. “Want me to crack it? Wouldn’t want you to muss yourself before tonight and all.”

  Ignoring his taunt, I gave him a quick hand gesture, urging him to get on with it. Blythe wasted little time torqueing the lids off both containers. The nails gave way with a jarring creak.

  Fortunately, everyone present gave me space as I approached. I wasn’t sure how gracefully I would handle this with witnesses. My apprehension had to be obvious. I pulled out handfuls of straw to find what la
y within. It didn’t take long. A set of familiar locksmithing manuals saw the light once I’d dusted them clean.

  Next, I unearthed a scarlet sash with the Monarch’s emblem at the seam. The kind a young nobleman receives when being presented the first time at court. After that I freed a small brass picture frame from the packaging.

  “What’s all of this?” Alexandra asked.

  “It’s my personal effects from Deilia. My father must have finally sent them.”

  The pictograph in the frame was a portrait of myself and my brothers. We were young boys then, not even old enough to court. Being forced to sit still for the image to be burned onto the plate was arduous at our age. Young noblemen were expected to be miniature adults, a ludicrous idea. My mother was aghast when we went running outside afterward, tromping in the mud and ruining our clothes like little vagabonds. Back then, Finn, Thomas, and I were inseparable. Long before we’d learned to treat one another as rivals.

  Blythe exhaled with a layer of disgust. “Better late than never.”

  “I suppose so.”

  I continued to sift through my possessions as they dredged memories to the surface. The last several weeks in Marisol had been so filled with drama and new experiences, I’d all but forgotten about the impending shipment. I think I’d written off my father’s promise of sending it all as a platitude to get rid of me without additional complaints. Even so, there wasn’t a lifetime worth of items between the two crates. I knew better than to expect much more.

  Harston edged closer, ever hopeful. “Did they send a letter?”

  I hid a slow, cleansing inhale. “I haven’t found one so far.”

  “Perhaps it’s just buried.”

  “That would be nice, but I doubt my father would allow anything of the sort.”

  “You don’t know that for sure—”

  “It’s all right, Harston. I’ve made my peace with that.”

  Had I? I wouldn’t admit aloud if my family’s disconnect bothered me, but I couldn’t be sure I’d moved beyond it. Every object from my past I touched brought with it a story, not all nightmares and horrors. My life after the apothecarian visit may have been filled with harshness, but there were many years I could call happy.