Innocence and Carnality

by J. Alan Veerkamp

  I truly wished a letter would surface. Despite my bitter exit from Deilia, reading words from my mother would be a godsend. What I wouldn’t give for a few lines of her immaculate penmanship. Bits of gossip from the other noble houses? Her machinations to find my brothers suitable wives? I’d had no contact from any of them since I left, but in all fairness I wondered if they were waiting to hear from me first. I’d certainly made no effort. Given with how things ended, should I have?

  My eyes welled as a longing for my homeland and family weighted my chest. As horrible as they could be, they were still mine. I missed them for the first time since I boarded the carriage to the airship. And it felt like a betrayal of my heritage.

  I started, sucking in a mouthful of air as a gentle hand gripped my shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” Alexandra asked.

  I’d almost forgotten I had an audience. Slapping on my best facade, I stood up tall, discreetly wiping at the corner of my eye. My voice sounded less steady than I’d hoped.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” I reached up and patted her hand for effect. “Just a bit misty over my lost things.”

  Alexandra didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t contest me either. At least she held respect for me, unlike my father.

  Who, strangely enough, I found myself missing as well. How twisted was that? Was the prospect of being ingrained into the decadence of Delaga House frightening enough to make me nostalgic for the man who openly showered me with disdain? My new environment might have grated on my sensibilities, but was it severe enough to make me pray for Arthur Valencus’s approval? If he was capable of such an act. And why now, after finally seeing a few baubles of my past?

  No wonder Deilians kept their internal struggles to themselves more often than not. We weren’t equipped to face them. Our skills lay in burying our pain and proving ourselves immune.

  And if this conflict wasn’t bad enough, my least favorite person appeared, possibly attracted to the noise.

  “Nathan, Rother wants you in his office right away.” Vivian’s faux-sweetness offended me more than my father.

  “Right this instant?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Alexandra’s brow arched. “And Rother trusted you with this errand?”

  “It’s been known to happen.”

  Before any more could be said, I ended the conversation. “It’s all right. I’ll see what he needs.”

  Wanting an escape from my packages, I made a quick pace down the hall and to the stairs. Vivian followed close, bouncing on the balls of her feet. It was unnerving, as no doubt she’d planned. I couldn’t imagine what Rother would want that would include her presence.

  By the time I reached the office, her proximity had frazzled my nerves. I didn’t even bother to knock as I opened the door.

  “You wanted to see me….” My words drifted away at the sight before me.

  Rother sat in his chair with a young man kneeling before him, face-first in my husband’s lap.

  “What is this?”

  Rother rolled his eyes, openly annoyed at the interruption. “Damn it.” He swatted the kneeling man’s shoulder. “Get up.”

  The young man was blond and fair, reminding me far too much of myself. He wiped his mouth as he stood. My husband rose, tucking his penis away. There was no mistaking what I was witnessing. Outrage licked the corners of my vision as all sounds tunneled into an echo. I stalked over and snatched the boy by the collar, dragging him to the door.

  “Get out.” Snarling, I shoved him through.

  Vivian stood in the doorway, a devilish smile on her pretty face. “I’m sure deep down he only has love for you.” She giggled.

  Without conscious thought, I slapped her across the cheek, sending her tumbling against the opposite wall. The door slammed even faster with her on the other side.

  “She’d better be in a condition to work tonight.”

  I whirled to face Rother, agog at the idea. “I walk in on this and all you’re worried about is whether your whore can earn money tonight?”

  The comment rolled off my tongue without hesitation. Apparently rage made coarse subjects easier to utter.

  “It’s a business night.”

  I scoffed in disbelief. “I suppose he was strictly business as well.”

  “Of course! I’m not going to risk the reputation of Delaga House on just anyone’s word of their talents.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing as he finished buckling his pants. Not one shred of remorse or fleck of guilt came off his lips. To him, this was perfectly acceptable behavior. No matter what, I refused to believe this was normal, even within Marisolian culture.

  “You honestly expect me to believe that was some form of employee interview?”

  “How else would you expect me to assess their skills?”

  Rother came around his desk, but I retreated a step, unwilling to let him touch me. “Next you’ll tell me you’ve done that with everyone on staff.”

  “Short of Alexandra, if they serve clients, in some shape or form, yes.”

  Every lesson on comportment and civility vanished far beyond my reach. Years of conditioning gone in one indiscretion. I paced in a circle, my hands waving about, mimicking my mad thoughts. My instructions had never covered such an event, and I had no idea how to temper what I felt.

  “Unforgivable. Would you personally bed down clients as well?”

  “If they paid enough.”

  My heart hammered, burdening my lungs in sympathy. “How could you?”

  “You’re well aware of how I started Delaga House. What makes you think I’m suddenly above it now? Are you seriously surprised?”

  “Nauseated is a better word.”

  Rother stiffened, flattening his gaze on me. I imagine with his profession he’d been looked down upon once or twice. Using Rother’s immense sexual history against him was a cheap tactic, but I needed to wound him. His callous disregard of my pride called for something to balance the scales. If he was annoyed with my unexpected presence before, now he was incensed. And I was too hurt to care.

  Standing up tall, he stared down his nose at me. “You’re offended far too easily. Perhaps I overestimated your ability to conform, which is odd. Deilians are well known for following dictates without reservation.”

  Controlling my anger was an unfamiliar task. Even with all the indignities suffered at my father’s hands, I’d never had such trouble reining in my temper.

  “I realize our marriage was arranged, but I still take our vows of fidelity seriously.”

  “Don’t make me laugh. You were so offended by the whole affair you barely paid attention. And now after everything you’ve learned, you’re still shocked.”

  “I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

  “I haven’t done anything to you. Everything I do for the sake of Delaga House is about money. It has no bearing on you being my husband. Accept it.”

  “Oh, please. Next you’ll be planning to put me up for sale to the highest bidder.”

  Rother snatched me by the collar and pulled me close. “Never. You’re mine and mine alone. Your fidelity is nonnegotiable. Ever.”

  “You’re a hypocrite.” I slapped his hand away.

  “No. I’m the patriarch here. Is that too much for you to understand? I can say it slower if it helps.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

  Rother’s volume began to pitch. His patience was fraying. “Then stop acting the fool.”

  “If we were in Deilia—”

  “Deilia wouldn’t take you, you little bitch! You’re lucky I did!”

  Rother’s curse struck me like a physical force, and I retaliated with a fist. It didn’t surprise him. He caught my wrist and for my trespass, slammed me hard into the wall. Air rushed out of me as he pinned me by the throat, the chair rail digging into my back. His hostile words huffed across my face as he leaned in tight.

  “I’m fucking sick of your judgments and com
plaints. Stop pretending you’re in charge or that you share an equal authority in my house.” I chilled as he enunciated each word for emphasis. “You are my spouse, and you will do your duty as you were taught. At least that uptight Deilian standard I can agree with.”

  When he released me, I nearly crumpled to the floor. Rother stepped back, every inch of his body vibrating with a vicious undertone. As upset as I was, I recognized the futility of continuing the argument. If I did, I would lose in ways I could barely imagine. The tension in the room promised it. I was in the right, I knew it, but I didn’t dare take it further.

  “Go upstairs and compose yourself.” The dangerous edge of Rother’s whisper couldn’t be mistaken. “I expect you to paste on your best face and be at my side tonight as planned. Do I make myself clear?”

  My jaw was clenched so tight, my barely restrained response came hissing through my teeth.

  “Yes… sir….”

  “Now. Go.”

  I tried to rip the office door off its hinges, slamming it into the wall on my way out. Storming upstairs, I refused to catch anyone’s eye. Thankfully, the bedroom was clear when I arrived, and I couldn’t close the rest of Delaga House out fast enough.

  Seething, I paced, stopping myself short of breaking anything I found within my reach. Everything from my personal clockwork tools to the gaslights to the ornate dressing mirror near the bed was at risk. A maelstrom of emotions left me vibrating and I spun in the center, awash in rage. While I was furious at my husband for his lack of respect, I was equally upset at myself for being so colossally stupid.

  Here I was, a newly wed nobleman in a foreign country, and somehow I imagined that while I worked to indoctrinate myself into the culture, the culture would shift to allow me in. Expecting it all to step aside so I could merge was pure vanity. And the fantasy of my brothel-owning spouse living a virtuous life dedicated solely to his husband simply because he wed a virgin? I now understood the definition of idiocy. The sad part was I had to give Rother credit for not trying to disguise his indiscretions. His honesty held a strange honor, no matter how misplaced.

  I’d told myself Rother’s past didn’t matter. With our age difference, there would be a gap in our experiences, but an endless chasm? I didn’t want to picture my husband with potentially so many others. What would I, a man with no prior carnal knowledge, have to offer in comparison? Could my relative innocence make him happy?

  My lessons carved the way. My duty was to support my husband in all ways, and I’d held to it with conviction. Deep down, I knew our marriage was not an act of equality. I knew I didn’t hold the same power as Rother.

  But it didn’t have to be proven to me this way. Even scandal-ridden houses in Deilia managed to find a quiet dignity under the aristocratic facades. Their dramas did not play out in front of everyone.

  My thoughts continued to whirl, caught between reliving the whole office debacle and the decision I’d come to the moment I opened the door to find my husband being pleasured by someone else. It was the only device I had to wound my husband’s pride in an equal fashion.

  A persistent knock interrupted my self-recriminations, refusing to stop in spite of my attempts to ignore it. In the end, I opened the door because only one person in this house would respect my right to privacy and refuse to barge in.

  I urged Harston inside, and he closed the door behind him. “I heard what happened. Are you all right?”

  “How did you hear?”

  “Vivian wouldn’t stop squawking about it until Alexandra snatched her away. Remind me to never upset that woman. I can’t believe you slapped Vivian.”

  “I’m not proud of how I lost my temper. No matter how malicious she was being. I’ve never raised my hand to a woman.”

  While I felt vindicated Alexandra was on my side, my reaction to Vivian’s game left me hollow. The two of us were of similar size, but there was something inherently wrong in how I responded. It’s how I was raised. No matter how many Deilian habits I tried to shed, some would never fade.

  “I gather she pushed you awfully hard.”

  I stroked my temple, trying to relieve the coursing pressure. “Of course she did. What else was she born to do? Not that it’s any excuse.”

  “You’ve done far worse to your brothers in the past. I dare say she earned it.”

  “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but can we move the conversation on?”

  “Is it true about how you found Rother? Indisposed?”

  The ethics of striking Vivian became more enticing, but this topic could hardly be avoided. I could only nod. Anger and humiliation were married far better than I, and they both stole my tongue.

  “What will you do?”

  I drew a deep breath and lowered my voice. “I’m leaving tonight. I can’t face the people of this house after this. I refuse to live the rest of my days as the foolish little boy that Rother married.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “It’s not much of a choice, but it’s all I have.” I eyed the opened crates still sitting in the center of the room. “Home.”

  There would be a scandal with my unannounced arrival, but I wanted to believe my family, even my father, would be willing to help me. Perhaps even annul the marriage to prevent the truth spreading to the other houses. It was all I had to hope for, even if the thought of doing so made me nauseated. I wasn’t sure how I could do this. My confidence, forged from shame, was welded with a weak torch.

  “But what about your possessions? They just arrived.”

  “They’re only things. I’ll only take what I absolutely need. I can buy the rest. Will you come with me?”

  Hartson looked affronted. “Of course. How could you think you even need to ask? I have no intention of abandoning you. Does Rother know?”

  “No. And I intend to keep it that way.”

  Brow creased, Harston rubbed his chin in thought. “If I’m not there tonight, they may suspect. I can cover for you. They’ll never believe you left without your valet. Go tonight, and I’ll follow tomorrow morning before the main staff wakes up.”

  “You’re brilliant.” I swept Harston up in a hug. I’d never been so grateful for his presence in my life. “Thank you, Harston. I’d say you’ve become my only friend, but I think you always were, whether I realized it or not.”

  He hugged me back, his hands shaking as if he didn’t know what to do with them. This was unbroken ground, after all. “Stop. I’ll get all weepy.” Pulling away, Harston stepped to the door with misty eyes and a restrained smile. “Be careful, Nathan. I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 11

  I TOLD them all I wanted to walk through the garden to clear my head. Everyone knew it was my favorite place in Delaga House, and after the scene in the office, no one questioned me. Lost in the trees and flowers, I watched the sun begin to dip. Not one person came out or spied on me from the window. The coming activity kept them all distracted. With the chaotic prebusiness preparation in progress, no one seemed to notice me as I followed along the property’s edge, hiding behind the foliage, until I found the street.

  With hurried steps, I made some distance. A few questions to passersby put me in the direction of where I wanted to go, but it didn’t take long to realize that, with my poor knowledge of the area, I would soon be lost. I managed to hire a carriage to keep me moving. The slick driver most likely charged me more than the ride was worth, but I was in no position to haggle.

  Now, I’d sat for several hours in the dark under the streetlight, on a bench in front of the airship dock. With no plan in mind, I’d arrived after hours and would have to wait until morning to travel. Afraid to lose my way, I decided to stay here for the duration. Plus I needed to be awake when Harston engineered his leave to join me. I prayed neither of us were discovered before we could board a ship and be off once again.

  Far away from Delaga House, in a still unfamiliar city, I didn’t feel I’d really escaped anything.

  I checked my pocket w
atch at regular intervals, well into the wee hours of the night. Two hours, twenty-five minutes ago, a young couple walked arm in arm across the street, giggling and whispering to each other. Their happiness stabbed me, filling me with jealousy. Why couldn’t their portrait of effortless joy be my marriage? Why did it have to be so difficult?

  I hated feeling so childish. In Deilia, I’d never acted out so explosively, so often, yet here in Marisol…. Every time I felt my grasp on my new life become secure, something snatched the line out of my hand, sending me adrift. As many new and wonderful things as I’d experienced since Rother appeared, just as many shook me to my core. Now, I’d taken a stand and made a choice. I needed to follow through with it, didn’t I?

  But I didn’t have a clue of what to do next.

  I could travel back to Deilia easily enough, but what kind of reception would I have? Could I really convince my father to aid me in avoiding the whispers of society? The maneuver would be quite manipulative, and I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Even if my father deserved whatever came his way.

  “Listen to yourself,” I whispered to no one as I scrubbed my hands through my hair. “What in the world are you doing, Nathan? Are you ready to trade one life of drama for another?”

  Anxiety pricked at me, keeping me wide-awake. The last hour alone kept me hearing things in the empty shadows. It did nothing to calm the sensation of eyes upon me. Eventually the distant noise of shoes scuffing the cobblestones drifted to me, growing slowly louder as they approached.

  “Evening, young man.”

  Deep lines etched the approaching man’s face, the harsh lamplight making the effect more severe. He wore a simple coat, and the icons on his scarf and brimless hat marked him as clergy. Stepping slow and weary, he motioned to the bench. “Mind if I sit?”

  I nodded. The frail older man took a seat at the far end. I was thankful for the separation. Marisolians often held little regard for personal proximity. I kept watch from my vision’s edge, but he stayed politely to himself. We sat in silence for so long, his next comment startled me.