“You’ve been out here for over three hours.”
“Have I? I hadn’t noticed.” I took my hand from my pocket, leaving my watch inside.
“If you don’t mind me saying, it’s not normal for a boy to be out this late in front of the airship dock. Certainly not at this time of night. Looks like you’re trying to get away?”
“I suppose so.”
“That bad at home?”
I sighed, trying to release my tension. “Sometimes, no. Others… worse than I ever imagined.”
The man was so unlike the vicars in Deilia with their noble status, condescension, and animosity. His voice rumbled with age but was surprisingly gentle, and his thin frame lacked intimidation. Perhaps, with my frayed nerves and weakened resolve, it was the reason I began to answer his questions. Or perhaps I needed to hear the voice of someone completely removed from my situation.
“If you go, you sure no one’ll miss you?”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. They’d likely not forgive me for leaving.”
“That’s a shame.” The vicar grunted, tilting his head as he assessed me. “Don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
“No. I haven’t been here long.”
“Are you sure you need to leave?”
Perhaps it had been lurking since I left the house grounds, but I could feel the doubt rising. My marital vows, which I gave high importance, were about to mean nothing. Would my family accept me back into the fold, putting blood before reputation for once in their lives?
My eyes stung as I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Probably should before you do something you can’t take back.”
“It might already be too late.” The crisp night air caused me to shiver. If only in my haste I’d thought of a way to bring a jacket.
“You don’t think there’s a way to mend the fence?”
“I’m not sure. We may have both gone too far this time.”
“You never know.” Reaching into his inside breast pocket, the vicar pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the cap and held it out. “Here. Have a nip.”
“What is it?” I accepted his unusual offer, peering into the bottle.
“Just a little whiskey. Calm your nerves and warm you a bit.”
I took a sniff. Amongst the cheap liquor’s vapors, I found a scent all too familiar, and it alarmed me. As I decided on how best to refuse the drink and leave, a large hand reached over my shoulder from behind and palmed the flask. His wild scent rolled over me, confirming the fleeting suspicion I’d harbored for the last hour.
“Hello, Blythe.”
The vicar slouched, his eyes wide as Blythe lifted the flask to his nose. With a quick inhale, his normally hard stare turned into a fearsome glower.
“Fuck off, old man, before I kick the shit out of you.”
The man scrambled off the bench and raced into the dark as if hell was biting at his heels.
“I wasn’t going to drink it.” I watched the vicar disappear in the distance, making sure he kept going. “It stank like one of my mother’s sleeping tonics, only ten times stronger. I was deciding which of his knees was softest so I could dash away.”
Giving me a dirty look, Blythe emptied the bottle into a nearby shrub and placed it inside his own jacket. While I expected him to snatch me off the ground, he surprised me when he sat beside me and sighed. In relief? I looked forward with my hands in my lap, unsure if I wanted to see any possible judgment on his face.
“How did you find me?”
Blythe leaned back into the bench. “He didn’t snitch, but Harston’s a shit liar and Rother knows how to read people. Your stuff from home came today. It didn’t take much to figure you’d try to go back.”
“Is Harston all right?”
“Yeah. He’s fine. No one could blame him.”
“So Rother sent you after me?”
“Yeah.”
“Rather than come himself.”
“He’s busy.”
“Yes, with all things Delaga House.” Why I voiced the obvious wasn’t nearly as confusing as why it disappointed me.
“Alexandra was worried and wanted to come, but she’s needed at the house with all the guests.”
“So you drew the lucky card, I see.”
I chanced a glance and found Blythe’s features harder than the shadows should have allowed.
“Are we really that hard to live with?”
A pang of guilt answered his question inside me, but he needed to know. “I was born and raised in Deilia. Do you have the slightest comprehension of how difficult this is for me? Every day, I pray I’ve figured out how to fit in and something comes along that derails my every effort. I have no idea of how to behave or what to expect. I’m lost here.”
“You just need to ask us more.”
“I’ve tried! I’m not exactly close to many people. I can ask you about life here, but we barely get on. Alexandra is endlessly busy, and Rother doesn’t tell me anything past what he thinks I need to know. Beyond that, the rest of the staff aren’t exactly holding out their welcoming arms for me.”
“They think it’s all an act.”
“What’s an act?”
“That you’d marry Rother, and be so easily offended.”
I scoffed. “I bet Vivian had a hand in that. Marisolian culture breaks a lot of Deilian society rules, but I doubt Delaga House’s standards are common for the entire country. And forgive me if while I was struggling to understand how to be a better Marisolian, I didn’t anticipate needing to ask whether my jealous, possessive husband would be sharing the beds of the whores under his employ.”
“That was just business. You expect him to ask for references?”
Images of my husband with others assailed me, making me feel small and worthless. I closed my eyes, hoping Blythe wouldn’t see my weakness, even as I tried to make him comprehend.
“Before Rother… I… I’d never been so much as kissed. There were no courtships allowed for me, and my only examples of wedded bliss were my dysfunctional parents and other socialites. I was taught to be my husband’s second hand and be a gracious host to his guests and business partners. I barely have any idea how to be anything else. Why does everyone expect me to already know what to do? It was all arranged, not a lengthy betrothal. Don’t they understand that?”
“How many whores did you know in high society?”
I shot a flat glare at Blythe. “In Deilia? You’re joking, of course.”
“And that’s it. They still see you as a snob looking down on them. And you still do.”
Air rushed out of my lungs, deflating me. “I don’t try to. I’ve been dropped into the most severe, contrary circumstances. It’s no wonder I’ve exploded so often.”
Blythe snickered. “Oh, they like that part. Shows them you’re more like them than you want to admit.”
“It’s just not done in Deilia. And if you say one word about not being in Deilia anymore, I will rough up your boys in a way you won’t find enjoyable.”
Blythe burst out laughing. “See? That’s the spirit I know’s under there. You can survive this. If you can figure out how to relax, I think you can even find your place with us.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yeah, I do. You and Rother have your work cut out for you. But I’d like to think if your family ever find out how much money Rother makes, you’d be able to rub their noses in it and maybe make ’em faint. And seriously, do you really want Vivian to get her way?”
I hated Blythe’s perceptiveness at times. Why couldn’t my bodyguard be a brainless thug? I could write off his ideas as idiocy and ignore them completely. But no, everything had to sound appealing.
“I assume if I refuse to come back, you’ll only throw me over your shoulder and make me anyway?”
Blythe turned to me, his dark eyes pleading. “Don’t make me have to.”
Why I held on to my ludicrous plan for the next few minutes, I couldn’t say. Old-school defian
ce? Ultimately, I gave in with a resigned nod. We stood, Blythe’s hand at my back directing me away from the bench. I refused to admit my backside welcomed it. The hard wood hadn’t done any favors for me.
“Come on. Getting a carriage back is going to be a chore. You couldn’t fuckin’ run away during the day?”
“And miss out on the chance of being kidnapped by a degenerate priest? Perish the thought.”
We began walking back. Away from the light’s false security, yet next to Blythe, I felt safe.
“What you said before to the old man? You were wrong.” Blythe grumbled so low I almost missed it.
“About which part?”
“About how no one would miss you if you were gone.”
“Who are you referring to?”
Blythe didn’t answer.
“NATHAN, WE’RE here.”
I opened my eyes a sliver at the gruff voice. Delaga House approached through the window. The late carriage ride had lulled me into a much needed sleep, and I relished the warm, comfortable cushion beneath me. Firm with just the right yield, it was perfect. When the cushion inhaled and exhaled, I startled myself wide awake. I sat up straight, trying to banish the sudden awkwardness.
“Sleep well, princess?” Blythe snickered as he returned his arm to his side from its position around my shoulder.
Lovely. As if Rother needed fresh fuel for his jealousy.
“Oh, do be quiet.” As always, Blythe seemed nonplussed by my reaction.
It was still dark out with dawn’s first fringes creeping into the sky as Blythe paid the driver. The carriage sped away and I forced myself to step forward. What waited for me indoors terrified me. Blythe nudged me along, or I might not have found the nerve to continue.
Delaga House was silent. No clients roamed the halls, having long since moved on. The darkness and quiet only served to amplify my anxiety. The only proper light left on came from the salon, where we found Rother, drink in hand.
Sprawled on the chaise, he followed our entrance with narrow-eyed scrutiny. Hard creases marred his handsome face, drawing lines of exhaustion across it. Otherwise, he gave up nothing, leaving me with little to read his mood, although I could likely guess.
“I found him easily enough. Unharmed and untouched.”
“Thank you, Blythe.”
I hated being spoken about instead of spoken to. “Rother—”
“Go to bed. I’ll deal with you later.”
I wanted to talk, but could hear the finality in his voice. I’d wounded him by leaving, but in all fairness, he hurt me first. Despite the scorecard, any conversation would come tomorrow at the earliest. Hopefully.
Blythe followed me upstairs at Rother’s instruction until we reached the bedroom. “Thank you for coming for me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s my job.” He shook his head, dismissing the idea. “Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”
Rother didn’t come to bed. He didn’t speak to me the next morning or all afternoon once the house resumed its normal activity. I kept to myself, hoping he’d come to our bedroom so we could discuss our situation, to little avail. No one else came to visit either, not even Harston. Whether they were shunning me or following some vindictive edict of Rother’s, I had no idea.
In the early evening, I recognized the noise and bustle of Delaga House preparation. Tonight would line the house with clients and my husband’s pockets with coin. I had a decision to make. Would I stay here outside of the debauchery, or would I take my place alongside it as its cohost? I wasn’t sure I had a position with either option, but I needed to do better than my ill-planned flight away. In the end, my duty to my husband cried out over all the indignities. If there would be middle ground, I would have to create it.
So I dressed myself to welcome guests into my home to do things I could barely approve of.
Holding my head high, I descended the stairs, drawing the staff’s gaze with each step. At the bottom, Rother’s conversation with Alexandra came to a halt. Her approval came with her maternal smile. I wasn’t clear I had Rother’s, but I didn’t let that dissuade me.
“Am I to assume you don’t plan on walking out on me this evening?” Rother examined my clothing and manner with a casual air I knew was anything but.
“Am I to assume there won’t be any surprise entanglements?”
Rother cocked his head with a raised brow. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Good. Then maybe you can teach me my role here.”
Grinning wide, Alexandra caught Rother’s arm. “I need to prepare for my session tonight. Have dinner with your husband before the guests start to arrive. Neither of you has eaten today.”
She sauntered to the stairwell, retracing my path. Rother turned and headed away in the other direction. After taking five steps, he paused and shot me a look.
“You heard the woman. Are you coming?”
I caught up quickly.
Dinner was a quiet affair shared alone on the screened porch so the staff could continue uninterrupted. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was and judging by how Rother devoured his meal, he was no better off.
We spoke little. Painful memories held my tongue. Eventually the bell rang, signaling the night’s beginning.
Rother stood, catching my eye. “We will talk later. For now, there’s business to be done.”
I nodded, ready to be educated.
I stood by his side through the first wave of customers. For the next few hours, Rother chose whom he greeted with care—most likely the wealthiest—and I politely offered my hospitality, following his lead. He often made veiled comments intended to make me blush, which his guests found adorable.
Our roles were simple, and if one took out the carnal transactions being dealt, it held a clear similarity to a Deilian ball. Easing into being host with its gentile pleasantries and polite exchanges was far easier than I anticipated. I felt appreciated and useful for the first time in ages.
My favorite part was how Rother and I appeared to set aside the grand issues between us, if only for a short while. Nothing had been settled, but I welcomed the distraction and the lack of animosity between us.
The evening was well underway when Rother whispered to me near the stairs, “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Rother guided me to the third floor, where the staff entertained clients. I’d spent almost no time here. He opened an unmarked door at the end of the hall—it couldn’t have been more than a closet—exposing a darkened passage. The unusual corridor made me leery, but I was determined to find a glimmer of trust in my husband. It had to start somewhere.
With a gentle hand, he guided me inside.
Chapter 12
“WHAT IS this?” I asked in a near whisper. A solemn hush accompanied the unfamiliar hidden passage. Rother nudged me along, preventing my reluctance.
“The viewing hall.”
Without gaslights, the ambient glow came from a row of interior windows. From their position, I guessed they would have to look into separate rooms rather than view the outdoors. Spaced equally, each had an unremarkable door as a companion. I realized the hallway’s path took us behind the floor’s apartments.
Not far away, one of the other bouncers peered into a window, judged the interior, and moved on to the next in a slow, methodical pattern. I glanced into the first portal, stiffening as I found myself staring into a debauched scene of Vivian on her knees entertaining a patron. I refused to turn my head, convinced Rother wouldn’t approve no matter how hard I blushed.
“Why would you have this?”
“To protect our interests and the staff.”
A sordid thought of Mr. Lorings came forward. “How often do customers get out of line?”
“Not often. But it happens. There’s always someone watching just in case.”
Rother’s touch to my waist signaled our continued trek. It didn’t require much to move me away from Vivian’s work. The next room had a man and woman e
ngaged in more traditional interaction. I regarded the coupling, both staff and client laughing and grunting. Their cavalier attitude toward fornication both scandalized and enthralled me. Clearly unattached, they enjoyed each other’s company in a fashion normally reserved for passionate lovers. For a price.
“Do they know?”
“I imagine some of them suspect. The mirrors only work in one direction, and the door is camouflaged as a closet. If we stay reasonably quiet, the illusion holds. We have a service to perform.”
The next room featured two men of differing age brackets. The gentleman was rugged yet clean-cut, and he pounded into the younger male with a vigor to shame Blythe. The intensity and ecstasy etched on their faces threatened to arouse me.
“This rather virile man is our Head Constable, Thomas Worthingfield. His wife stopped all physical intimacy between them after the rather difficult birth of their sixth child five years ago. A devoted family man, he came to me two years ago when all his attempts to repair that side of his marriage failed. Occasionally sating his needs here keeps him from seeking a mistress who would want more from him.”
Absorbing Rother’s words, I watched, reminded of walking in on Harston and Blythe. However, the officer held the boy bent over by the hips, worked for minimal contact during his rutting, with his eyes closed.
“He’s trying to avoid intimacy.”
“Unleashing into the boy allows him to stay true to his wife.”
“I doubt his wife would see it the same way.”
“She’s not my client, and he believes this will keep his marriage from collapsing. I admit, it’s a fragile reasoning, but not my place to unravel.”
“So we provide physical pleasure without the risk of personal entanglement?”
“Among other scenarios, yes.”
“What other scenarios?”
Rother gestured to continue down the hall. We passed three more rooms, each with some variation of men and women engaged with one another. Having grown up where such freedom was denied me, I found the all-male groupings the most fascinating. I understood their need to act out their hedonism in a safe place, away from the public. The more I saw, the more my pulse quickened.
Innocence and Carnality Page 15
