Mr. Lorings. The man who’d cornered me in the pantry on my first business night at Delaga House. The man who’d struck me when I refused his advances. If this was the type of man Mr. Avaston employed, he couldn’t be trusted. Like many high-end aristocrats.
I restrained my anger and funneled it into maintaining the appearance of a sarcastic socialite. Witty yet disinterested. “Mr. Lorings was your employee? He was lucky to leave here alive. I think Blythe had a hard time deciding for sure.”
“Lorings was a bit….”
“Privileged?”
“Pushy was the word I was going for.”
I chuffed. “To say the least.”
Rother placed a hand at my lower back. A sign to be cautious. “Let’s hope your new assistant has better manners. I’d hate for Blythe to stain the rug reeducating him. We’d have to roll it up and bury it out in the forest somewhere where no one would find it afterwards.”
“I hardly think it would come to that.” David cast me a heated stare. “But if I may say, I can understand Mr. Lorings’s interest.”
“He was not up to my standards.”
David paid no attention to my remark. Instead he angled his head, his gaze reaching into my open collar. “I see you’ve marked your boy. Good choice. Is his time up for barter as well?”
“You couldn’t afford it.”
Rother’s hand drifted upward until it rested on the back of my neck, signaling my silence. “Nathan is mine. And mine alone. He is not for rent at any price. Why else would I have marked him?”
“Of course. Forgive me.” David’s penitence was all charlatan, yet Rother accepted it with a surprising social grace.
“Think nothing of it. It’s an understandable misconception.”
“I’m impressed, Rother. You’ve never been so possessive of one of your boys in the past.” It was Avaston’s turn to eye me over. Yet where David’s was filled with lust, Avaston’s leer was not. It chilled me. “This one must be real special to you.”
Rother pulled me an inch closer to him. “I wouldn’t have married him otherwise.”
Vivian’s continued silence made me curious. The circumstances surrounding my marriage were no house secret. Rother barely knew me when we wed before the vicar. There was a great deal of posturing in this exchange, and it wasn’t clear who stood as alpha after everyone stopped urinating on one another. How much longer could Rother stand a challenge in his own house? Why was he? Mr. Avaston might have been well dressed by Marisolian standards, but his comportment was borderline common.
“Ah… true love’s a beautiful thing.” Avaston swallowed down the last of his drink. “I’ve been wondering, Rother. I’m still waiting to hear that you’re adding my products to your menu.”
“Like I told you the night Mr. Lorings was removed. I’m not interested.”
“It would be a real lucrative partnership.”
Rother turned his head in a slow arc, taking in the vast number of mingling clients. “My business is already lucrative. And I have no patience for addicts in my house. In a place like this, it’s a variable that asks for trouble. If my clients can’t walk out under their own power, I’d prefer it be a testament to my staff’s talents to fuck men into jelly. I’ve built this house without your product and will continue to do so.” One couldn’t miss the hostile inflection building the longer Rother spoke.
“Your cut of the profits would be sweet.”
“My opinion still hasn’t changed.” Clients outside our group were turning at Rother’s increasing volume.
Avaston stayed amused and calm. “You say that now, but you’ll come around. I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t care how fashionable you think that shit is. Delaga House—”
“Rother, I want a new drink,” I whined.
Agog at my audacity, Rother overenunciated. “What’s wrong with the one in your hand?”
I thanked every vapid debutante I ever met for their blatant lessons in manipulative pouting as I adopted their self-involved manner. “It’s warm. Give it to Vivian. I want a new one.”
Rother stared at me, then softened, reading my uncharacteristic behavior. Following along, he made a loud, disgusted exhale through his nose. Plucking the glass from my hand, he presented it to his most famous whore.
“Here. You drink this.”
I caught a hint of resentment from Vivian, but pretended not to notice. It was all I could do not to overplay my part by tapping my foot in impatience.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Avaston. I need to tend to my husband. True love and all that.”
Avaston gave Rother a sly grin. “The young ones are always high maintenance.”
“Feel free to enjoy Vivian this evening. I’ll add her personal services to your account. If David would like to be entertained as well, be sure to have him speak with Alexandra. I’m sure she’ll turn him in the right direction.”
“Thanks, Rother. We’ll be in touch. Enjoy your drink, Nathan.”
I gave a lifeless wave to Avaston and his entourage as we left the salon, entering the gaming room. Rother flagged a member of staff to bring us fresh drinks and herded us away from prying ears.
Trying to keep our relationship stable, I felt the need to speak first. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“For once, there’s no need. Your timing was impeccable. I needed an excuse to remove myself from that conversation. And shrewd acting. Avaston shouldn’t have a clue to how intelligent you really are.”
“Who is he, Rother?”
“A businessman.”
“Mr. Avaston is not a typical person to come through that door. Why is he here?” I took a wary look over my shoulder to make sure he hadn’t followed.
“He has a taste for Vivian.”
“Many men do. But that’s awfully simplistic. If that’s all it was, I think you’d have had Blythe pummel him for being so openly rude. He’s ejected men for less.”
“You’re not implying I’m scared of him, are you?”
Rother answering a question I hadn’t asked invited me to pry deeper. “Of Avaston? No. That’s silly. But there’s more going on here than you’re telling.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The hard line of Rother’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth. Mr. Avaston’s visit risked cracking Rother’s composure, a thing I’d witnessed more than once, and I had no desire to repeat the performance. Part of me wanted to congratulate Mr. Avaston on aggravating my husband to such an extent.
“Then why don’t you want to do business with him? You’ve never had many limits on how you made money before.”
My exasperation got the better of me and the snarky comment escaped without thinking. Rother’s irritated stare burned me, his nostrils flared. I sighed and trod carefully in reverse.
“I’m sorry. That was unfair. It doesn’t matter how you built Delaga House. Your fortune came from actual effort. Unlike my family, who were born into it.” I treated Rother like a cornered animal, speaking softly so as not to spook him into something destructive. “If you want me to know how to act when he visits again—and I have a suspicion he will—I need to know. Your interaction with him and his assistant was more like a Deilian catfight than anything I’ve ever seen in Marisol.”
Rother’s shoulders relaxed but his quirked eyebrow stayed in place. “I’m glad to see you knew when to back off of David when prompted. No matter how pissed off you were.”
“I’m trying my best.”
“You’ve done very well tonight.”
“I’d say you did too. I believed you when you said I wasn’t available at any price. Thank you. I’ve had my doubts on that front. But I trust you now.”
“Only on that front?”
I peered up at him through my brow to appear more innocent. “If I said I trusted you completely, you’d know I was lying.”
“True.”
“You know me, Rother.” I leaned forward and rested my hand on his breast. It lacked the heat of tou
ching Blythe. “You can trust me if for no other reason than I’m your husband.”
A twinge of guilt sank into my chest. I never saw myself stooping to coercion to win. Mr. Avaston’s appearance had the possibility to wrinkle my fledgling plans. Their interaction unsettled Rother, a man who prided himself on being lord of his world. Could this be a potential coup?
Rother wanted the compliant spouse, but knew I couldn’t be subservient at all times. Acting as such would only foster his distrust, and who knew what path his cruelty would take? Helping him and Delaga House was the only course to take, even if the path wore at me. The end result would justify my actions.
Or at least I kept telling myself that.
A customer stepped too near, so I lowered my voice as I pulled Rother in the opposite direction. “You talked about addicts. I’m gathering Avaston sells substances. Opiates, maybe?”
“How would you know about—”
I rolled my eyes. “Bored nobles are no strangers to medicinal mood alterations. I imagine it’s how they keep from killing one another. Apothecarians love to prescribe them.”
Our wine arriving interrupted my inquiry, yet I refused to back down. I took a casual sip while Rother stared down into his, holding the fragile stem in a death grip. His jaw was set so tight, his teeth must surely be at risk of cracking. Rother kept scanning the room, then me, back and forth several times. The wall of skepticism he hid behind was stained with paranoia. But the longer I waited, the more patience I fed him, the more I realized he wanted my confidence. It was lonely on the throne. I waited and nursed my drink until the bricks began to tumble down.
“He wants me to turn Delaga House into an opiate den. I will not, under any circumstances.”
“And you told him. I saw you. Multiple times. Why doesn’t he simply accept it?”
“He’s insistent.”
The whole thing puzzled me. “Why don’t you just have Blythe remove him?”
“You don’t just remove Avaston. He’s very well connected.”
“Better connected than you?”
Rother paused, as if the admission would cost him something dear. “Differently. His contacts are often more criminal than professional. Although I suspect he has a fair number of both.”
“Can he just move in on Delaga House and force your hand?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Why is that?”
“Probably because of who my friends are.”
I found it wise to stifle my opinion of how Rother described the people he blackmailed. Friends. Rother didn’t have friends. He had indentured servants. It wasn’t like my husband to tiptoe around another man. Striding forward and taking his due was more his style. Rother’s caution was as unnatural as my performance in front of Mr. Avaston.
“Not that I want you to say yes under any circumstances, but is it wise to tell him no?”
“Addicts can’t be trusted and will drive away clients that don’t want the association. Also, Avaston doesn’t practice discretion. Everyone’s secrets will be fair game to anyone who pays him. And that doesn’t even begin to tell how the house will fall into the gutter. His establishments tend to cater to a rougher crowd. The kind you can’t trust to not abuse your staff. If I say yes to him, he’ll start small and worm his way into the business until he overtakes it. I built this all from nothing. Delaga House is mine and will stay that way until the day I die.”
Keeping my heartbeat calm while Rother described the house’s possible fate distressed me. When had this vice den grown on me? I found myself with a growing admiration for the effort taken to build such an enterprise. I didn’t want to see it and the people inside fall into ruin. Except maybe Vivian.
Rother’s methods of handling secrets and using them to persuade powerful men had failed him. Mr. Avaston made a formidable adversary, and competition didn’t sit well with Rother.
“I take it you haven’t found any leverage on him.”
“Vivian’s found very little that’s worthwhile.”
I felt so stupid. Mr. Avaston’s fondness for Vivian on his arm, and Rother’s willingness to keep a running bill for using her services. It should have been obvious. “That’s why you keep her in spite of all her troublesome habits.”
“Avaston’s men don’t use Delaga House’s services. They use cheap streetwalkers he sells his wares to, so I need her. She’s the only one he’s willing to bed down. It’s only a matter of time. Eventually, all satisfied men are susceptible to interrogation during the afterglow.”
“Are you sure she’s trying?”
Rother tried to hide it, but I saw the hints of worry in his eyes. It sounded like the gambit with Vivian had taken considerable time and was his only subterfuge in play. If she failed, even on purpose, the backlash could be disastrous. A lot rode on a woman I would throw out on the street in a moment had I the power.
Months had gone by since Mr. Lorings’s visit, so Mr. Avaston’s interest in pushing into Delaga House wasn’t new. His tenacity and Rother’s reactions screamed of threat.
“Just how dangerous is Mr. Avaston?”
Again, Rother hesitated. Did saying it aloud make the situation more real? “On the surface, he comes from the poor side of town but is a respected and successful self-made man. His nonpublic reputation is a mix of benevolence and cruelty. No one wants to cross him.”
“I don’t like this. What are you going to do? Are there any options other than just wait and hope he makes a mistake you can take advantage of?”
I was out of my depth yet again. Coming to terms with the perversion I saw around me in the house was difficult enough. Now I needed to make peace with the possibility of true criminal activity on my doorstep. I prayed Mr. Avaston wouldn’t be an additional element in my agenda.
I went to take a drink and rattled the glass against my teeth. My hand wouldn’t steady. Rother placed his hand over mine until I regained control. The brilliant smile on his face made no sense.
“Are you worried about me?”
He was far too pleased. I, on the other hand, couldn’t sort my thoughts. Separating my hand from his, I turned away, not wanting to see him so happy.
“Let’s not skip ahead four or five chapters, shall we?”
Chapter 17
I GAVE a dirty look to the music box. Before long, I would need to open it up again and try to diagnose the malfunction and not kick the monstrosity over. I was tempted. Only the thought of the vast amount of additional work to repair it stopped me. With my luck, it would shatter into an unrecognizable heap of parts.
Last night, Rother offered me the chance to hire someone to fix the machine, but I declined. Clockwork was my niche, my special skill that set me apart from the dull Deilian noble horde. Part craft and part inventive puzzle, the work kept me grounded while my family undermined me. In this instance, quitting was not an option. No quarter existed for compromise, only success. In my own way, I had as much pride as Rother.
The mantel clock’s graceful chime mocked me with its notes. I’d repaired it months ago and it performed beautifully without flaws. It also told me I was late for brunch.
Getting dressed without Harston’s efficiency was another skill I’d yet to master. I sighed to purge the negativity. Now was not the time to dwell on details I couldn’t change. Only move toward aligning the parts to make the music sing once again.
With a final glance in the mirror, I closed my eyes and centered myself. I opened my neckline enough to allow a glimpse at the brand if one looked on purpose. Rother would like it that way. Once I had it right, I averted my eyes. I didn’t want to see it anymore.
It was time to go. I’d primped enough for his sake.
In a house where the entire staff stayed awake into the wee hours, brunch would be today’s first meal. Few would be up any earlier. I used to take advantage of the fact in the earlier days. Even so, little could be heard through the building until everyone had been fed.
Barely down the first hall, I met Blythe
coming up the stairs.
“Did Rother send you because I’m running late?”
“No, it’s my idea. Dahvra won’t serve anyone until you come down. I’m fucking hungry.”
“I overslept and I’m not quick putting on my clothes.”
“You sound like one of the whores. You look pretty enough. No one cares.” Blythe started to gesture in an attempt to speed me along.
I stopped, tapping my chin in bogus contemplation. “Hmm…. Perhaps I should change into something more formal—”
“Move it, princess!”
Laughter bubbled out of me as he pushed me along. I knew Blythe was a healthy eater, but his impatience tickled me. The warmth of his hand on my back was welcome.
“You know, I’m betting Dahvra won’t feed you if I trip and hurt myself on the way down. I think she likes me better than you.”
“Oh, you think?”
I threw my hands in the air and waved them about. “Oh, oh! That stair was slippery!”
“Shut it.” Blythe grabbed a fistful of my shirt to control my descent.
“How will you explain if we have to call Dr. Perrin for an emergency?”
Even Blythe’s growl was tinged with humor. “You hush, or I’ll carry you down over my shoulder.” By the time we reached the main floor, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were clamped tight. I could see him trying not to explode. Blythe was on the verge of roaring.
The scent of delicious food dragged a groan out of me rivaling Blythe. We knew the destination but could have followed the aroma in the case of amnesia. Our mirth subsided to reasonable levels by the time we arrived. A vague sense of disappointment came over me when he released his hold on me.
We found the formal dining hall filled with people. The massive table held the entire Delaga House population with room to spare. Rich coffee already filled most cups, a balm to the weary. Rother sat at the head, beaming at my entrance. Seeing them all together like this warmed me.
“I found him upstairs. Let’s eat.” Blythe gave me a shove toward the empty seat next to Rother as he took the closest chair to the hallway.
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