Innocence and Carnality

by J. Alan Veerkamp

  A sense of repetition came over me as we walked, having taken the same path the day before with Blythe. Although yesterday, my mood was quite different. A whisper in my thoughts prayed we wouldn’t run into my bodyguard when we found him outside the dining room.

  “Good morning, Blythe.” Rother was borderline giddy.

  “Not much morning left, boss. You missed the meal. Again.” Blythe’s scar confused me. I couldn’t tell if he was scowling or not. “Dahvra says she was going to send something up for Nathan if you didn’t appear soon.”

  “Well, I’m glad to save her the trouble. We’ve both earned our appetites.”

  My chest warmed, threatening to roll my stomach. Blythe gave me only the quickest side glance and held his grimace at Rother.

  “You’re looking awfully chipper this morning.”

  “Well, a long day of playing hide-the-cock with my husband tends to do that.”

  I gasped. “Rother!”

  “What?”

  “I realize in this house it’s all commonplace, but I still prefer to keep a certain amount of decorum.” I didn’t have to fake my shame. Blythe’s presence amplified it a hundredfold. “No one needs the gruesome details.”

  “Bah. You’re not my secret lover, you’re my husband. It makes me proud to fuck you to a screaming finish.” Rother shared a dirty laugh. “Or three of them.”

  Blythe’s brow flattened in annoyance. “Thanks for sharing.”

  If Rother said much more, I risked vomiting. I wanted to tell him he shouldn’t be so bloody smug about having his way, but my vocal cords were frozen. For some reason, I wanted him to stop violating my privacy with Blythe. And from the fresh creases forming on Blythe’s face, he desired the same thing.

  “What’s the matter, Blythe? You seem tense.”

  The normal gravel of his voice gave way to a coarse landslide. “Some of us weren’t lucky enough to have our clocks wound all night. Excuse me. I’m sure there’s something important I could be doing.”

  Blythe’s heavy boots pounded the floor as he stomped out down the hall. Each impact shook me to the core. I wanted to run after him and apologize for Rother’s rude behavior, but why? Blythe was just as capable of the same vulgar chatter men shared when the women were absent. I’d been the victim of it on more than one occasion. It made no sense to me.

  “Why would he care about anyone bedding down in this house? It’s what we do.”

  Rother being shocked by Blythe’s sudden exit dumbfounded me. At first I’d believed he was goading Blythe, teasing him with his bedroom success. Had he not seen the man’s growing agitation as he kept going on and on? Delaga House’s success was built upon his ability to read people. Apparently sexual euphoria was the bane of the lord of carnality’s perceptiveness.

  Blythe’s departure had made it easier to find my tongue. “I… I’m not sure. You were bragging quite boldly about your conquests. He might be a little lonely. Some people don’t like having their noses rubbed in other people’s happiness.” I paused for a moment to contemplate another option. “Perhaps he liked Harston more than he lets on.”

  “Harston?”

  “It’s my best guess. They were… involved. Remember?”

  “Hmm. I suppose that’s possible. For Blythe’s sake, it’s a shame you had to fire him.”

  Rother’s distortion of the truth seized my voice once more. Don’t react. Is that how he saw the events, or did he really think he could place the blame on me until I believed it as real? Either way, my husband was afflicted.

  “Blythe just needs a new boy. Maybe I’ll see about hiring a new one. I’ll even let Blythe audition the applicants to keep you from being jealous of me.” He placed his hand on my shoulder as if the gesture should placate any of our previous history.

  I smiled and nodded. “I think that’s an excellent suggestion.”

  Rother stood taller, his authority reinforced. “Perfect. I’ll start hunting suitable candidates next week. Now, let’s find Dahvra and see about getting us fed.”

  THE GIDDINESS of our second honeymoon—as he referred to it—ended when the mail arrived as scheduled at half past one. A letter from Mr. Avaston. Rother went from euphoric to defensive by the time he read the last word. Refusing to show me the letter, Rother balled it into a tight wad and threw it into the fireplace. I kept my distance as he watched it burn.

  Rother vibrated with disquiet and I was only too pleased he left me alone for the remainder of the night.

  The next morning I found him in front of the large mirror dressing by fireplace light as I woke. I couldn’t be sure he’d even come to bed. So fixated on his task, Rother only spoke to my reflection. “I’ll be meeting with my solicitor and the Chief Magistrate all day. Don’t wait for me.”

  “Is this about Mr. Avaston’s letter?”

  “My leverage is coming too slowly. I may have to concoct some.”

  “Do they know you’re coming?”

  Rother buttoned his cuffs with impatient, clumsy hands. “There wasn’t time to make a new post, and I’m not waiting for their convenience.”

  “They’re very important people. Shouldn’t you be announced before dropping in on them?”

  “They’ll see me.” Threat loomed in his voice. Agreement was my only safe response.

  “I’m sure they’ll be happy to receive you.”

  Without additional acknowledgment, Rother strode to the door. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, so find something to entertain yourself here at home today.”

  And he was gone.

  The grounding edict chafed me, even if I hadn’t planned on leaving the house. I would comply not only to prevent an argument, but because I had better ways to spend my day.

  Breakfast was another of Dahvra’s culinary delights. If I wasn’t careful, her cooking might change my body into something much rounder. It was hard to know when to stop. I mingled with the staff during the meal and retired to my room when finished to stay out of their way.

  Safe inside my bedroom, I opened the music box. It still didn’t function properly, but repairing it wasn’t my mission today. I reached into the open space at the bottom and retrieved the folded parchment I took from Rother’s office. I set up the desk with a proper light and got comfortable with my new stack of stationery and ink.

  Other than the blot of ink, the paper held a good lettering sample. Rother’s handwriting was cleaner than I would expect of a man without formal education. The rigid penmanship spoke of the time and effort spent raising the quality to a near-gentleman level. The lines and angles were generic without much flair. Even the visible signature was boring.

  After loading my pen with ink, I scratched a few letters onto a fresh sheet. Comparing them to Rother’s writing, I felt confident I could copy the style.

  I practiced for a few hours until it was time for lunch. I closed the ink and folded the original sample once again, returning it to its hiding place inside the music box. Then I collected the day’s work and crumpled it into a large ball and watched them turn to ash in the hearth.

  Rother wasn’t the only one who knew how to burn a letter.

  “DO YOU want me to carry it, princess?”

  “No. You might crush it with your gorilla hands. It’s delicate.”

  Our usual banter was a tad mean-spirited today as we walked down the street. Blythe continued to needle me and I couldn’t help retaliating. It had been this way since before we entered the carriage. If Rother hadn’t insisted Blythe rearrange his personal schedule to shadow me, I doubted he would have been willing. He’d never avoided me in the past, and the confusion irked me.

  Alexandra walked beside us, not amused, yet not annoyed either. “Am I going to regret asking you what that device is for?”

  I couldn’t help perking up. “It’s an audio-amplifying device. I found it here on a previous visit. One end fits around my ear while the flexible end with the cone is placed on the desired object, heightening the tiniest sounds and allowing you to hear
the mechanics inside. I bought it to help me complete the repair on the music box. I have a theory on why it refuses to behave. The gears and cylinders function with absolute precision. If they’re even fractionally out of alignment, the player refuses to perform.”

  “I warned you. You take him into that clockwork shop and he gets all worked up like a snuff-loaded whore.” Blythe huffed. “If you’re not careful, he’ll leave a puddle.”

  “Hush, Blythe. Even your cynicism can’t dampen my spirits today.” I refused to allow him to stain my indulgent joy. The clockwork shop was one of my few guilty pleasures.

  “I think his excitement is adorable,” Alexandra said.

  The snobbish comment rushed out of me. “See, Blythe? You’re the outcast today.”

  “Well, I’m sure Rother will enjoy the excitement soon enough.”

  I almost didn’t hear Blythe retort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing….”

  Skidding to a halt and turning, I jabbed a finger into Blythe’s ample chest. “No. You meant something by that. Spit it out.”

  “I’m just saying you and Rother seem real chummy these days.”

  “So?”

  “Never thought I’d see that outta you. After… everything.” Disappointment edged each syllable with a blade’s sharpness, wounding me.

  I bit back the stinging in my eyes. The way he said it made me sound like a prostitute. As if I hadn’t already made my own comparison. Blythe knew. I’d confided in him. Keeping Rother calm was my best course of action, and here he was, judging the form it took. What was he expecting? Meaningful dialogue with the man who branded me? I didn’t understand this reversal of attitude.

  Resuming our path sounded better than airing my thoughts. “Why are you here again?”

  “Because Rother dragged me off something more interesting since you’re not allowed out without an escort.”

  Blythe sounded so put out by this excursion, my retort fell out flat, fading with each word. “I’m sorry I’ve bothered you. In the future, I’m sure Alexandra would be happy to accompany me so I won’t have to ask you to take me wherever I want to go.”

  I walked another full block without a sound so I wouldn’t say more and disgrace myself. But this trip had two purposes. The clockwork shop fulfilled the first. I needed help with the second. Not wanting anything more of Blythe, I asked Alexandra, “Is there a postal box nearby?”

  “The office is a few blocks south of here but there’s a box around the corner. Does it matter which?”

  “Will it slow down delivery?”

  She shook her head, too softly to dishevel her hat. “They’ll both work fine.”

  “Then I’ll opt for the letterbox. I don’t want to have to walk past Dr. Perrin’s office. We’re close enough as it is.”

  The city may not have been familiar to me with my infrequent outings, but I’d never forget the vicinity of the doctor’s office. It would be my luck to walk under his window and find him spying on us.

  Rounding the corner, I spotted the box. Capped with a metal spire roof to protect it from the elements, the stunted pillar of stone masonry sported a hinged brass slot at chest height to accept outgoing mail with a wide padlocked door at the bottom for officials to retrieve it. The contents appeared secure enough. It was safe to use.

  As if my quarrel with Blythe wasn’t upsetting enough, pulling the sealed document from my inside pocket was worse. The parchment crumpled under my fingers. A chill of cold sweat slowed my trembling hand as I reached for the mail slot. If I couldn’t follow through now, I never would.

  “Is that a Deilia address?” Alexandra asked.

  I shoved the letter into the box. “Yes, it is.” Committed, I found the beginnings of calm. “Is there a café nearby? I could use a snack and a cup of tea.”

  Alexandra’s eyes burned bright. Not in anger, but in the way she read a man’s inner thoughts, much like Rother. I wondered who taught the skill to whom. The scrutiny didn’t last long.

  “This way.”

  Other than the occasional grunt when dodging another pedestrian, Blythe was silent, which was fine. Alexandra led us down two more blocks from the mailbox and into a casual restaurant. With warm-toned plaster walls and iron fixtures, it reminded me of the bistro we visited the day I arrived. I hoped the food was as good.

  “I’d like to use the washroom.” I don’t know what possessed me to snark at Blythe. “Will that be all right, or shall I expect more judgmental nonsense from you?”

  Blythe growled under his breath. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  I heard Alexandra’s disapproving exhale as I headed to the water closet. With whom she was unhappiest was unclear. Neither one of us was behaving like a gentleman. With the door closed, I made a silent thanks for the sink and running water. I splashed water on my face, letting the chill be my focal point. Whatever sat at the core of Blythe’s change of heart—his opinion of me—was his own affair. I wouldn’t let it distract me. No, I would not.

  It took much longer than I expected to make me fit for the public.

  Blythe and Alexandra were seated in a corner booth with enough room left for me to join. Deep in hushed conversation, Blythe dipped his head low. I only caught a snippet of Alexandra’s hard whispers as I approached. “… ends now. You’re drawing too much attention to yourself and that won’t help anyone.”

  I cleared my throat, bringing an end to their privacy. “Am I interrupting? I feel like I am.”

  The maternal smile I loved made Alexandra’s face glow brighter than the daylight filtering through the windows. “Nonsense. Sit. Do you need a menu, Nathan?”

  “No, thank you. I know what I want.”

  A young man took our order and brought me a pot of tea, and coffee for the others. Sandwiches appeared not long after, giving us something to fill our mouths so no one had to talk. Blythe at least had the dignity to look chagrined. The food went quickly, and we all refreshed our drinks.

  Alexandra added a dose of cream to her drink. “So, what Rother told me is true. You’re really writing letters to other families in Deilia?”

  “Yes. That was the first.”

  Her brow arched in the most delicate way. “You don’t strike me as the vindictive sort.”

  “I’m not.”

  “That letter might suggest otherwise.”

  Without looking at Blythe, I straightened in my seat. “I may have little control of my life here, but I can at least balance the scales back home. You’ve met my father. You know what kind of man he really is.”

  “I do, but this doesn’t seem like you at all.”

  “Rother told me a man once disappeared after finding out about my father’s sessions with you. I’m not sure if he was lying, but a little insurance to keep him away from me can’t hurt.”

  Alexandra sipped her coffee, eyes aimed into the rich liquid. “How will that work?”

  “Once the word is out, all eyes will follow him. Deilian nobles are a gossipy lot. He can’t deny rumors if he continues to travel to Marisol. Let him find a new brothel.”

  “That’s quite clever.”

  I spoke to Alexandra but hoped Blythe was hearing me as well. “I’d say thank you, but I’m doing it to protect myself in the only way I have.”

  The server returned and Blythe paid the bill as usual. We each nursed our drinks to extend our day out despite the odd mood. No more was asked about my letter plans, which I preferred. The whole endeavor was new, yet weighed on me. Writing the letter had given birth to ideas I would never have considered prior to the last night my father and I saw each other.

  “Alexandra, may I ask you a personal question?”

  “Of course.”

  I dropped my voice for secrecy. “You’ve… been with my father. Was he ever a decent man with you?”

  “I’m sorry, Nathan, but I’ve never been with your father. Not like that.” It was unfair she could field a request so personal without reaction when I was mortified by uttering
it.

  “But he was your client.”

  “One of the benefits of my kind of session is that I don’t have to sleep with anyone in them. I’m not saying it’s never happened, but that’s only because so few women come through Delaga House’s doors.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

  A gracious smile curled her mouth as she covered my hand with her own. “It’s not a secret. But my position allows Blythe and I to make sure the girls aren’t victimized.”

  “That must be difficult given the profession.”

  She continued without any change in speech, but I caught a coloring of regret. “It’s not perfect, but we do what we can to make them safe. I’ve seen far too many times when men have forced themselves on people who felt they had no choice in the matter.”

  “I see.”

  “Tell me. How are you and Rother getting on these days?” It sounded casual, but I knew serious inquiry when I heard it.

  I spun my gaze about the room, noting the other diners and the server a few tables away. Any of them could be an ally of Rother’s or know someone who was. Given the diversity of his influence, I could never be certain.

  Making a point not to blink, I stared into Alexandra’s eyes, hoping she could hear my unspoken answer. “Very well, thank you.”

  Alexandra didn’t smile or make fond noises. She only replied in the same unblinking manner. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  We returned to our drinks. All Blythe could do was avoid everyone’s gaze, as if he didn’t know where he should look as he fussed with his empty mug. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the mood. Alexandra broke the quiet as she set aside her empty cup and saucer.

  “And for the record, your father was never a decent man.”

  We all rose and gathered ourselves to head back outside.

  Alexandra brushed at her dress, smoothing the lines. “I guess we’re ready to head back to the carriage.”

  Blythe finally spoke up. “Go on ahead. I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll catch up.”