But I couldn’t do that anymore.
Fortunately, there wasn’t time to mull over their gawking. The rapid gunshot of her heels announced Alexandra’s arrival. She pushed through them all and rushed to me, nearly smothering me in a hug. I didn’t resist.
Leaning back, she tipped my head to check the bandage covering the knife wound on my throat and the purple bruise on my face with a care my mother lacked, her brow creasing at the sight. “Are you all right?”
I hissed at her gentle prodding. “Yes. It looks worse than it is.”
“You look awful.” Her ageless beauty showed worried strain lines as she debated my dismissal of the damage. I doubted she believed me. A hint of bruising peeked beneath her own cosmetic camouflage.
“I’m a bit worn, but I’ll be better. I’m glad to find you safe and sound. I worried about you.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“I doubt that, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“I’ll have some tea made for you once you have a moment to breathe.” Alexandra brushed her hand through my hair, and the taut line of her shoulders begin to relax. Reaching over, she placed a hand on Blythe’s chest. “Thank you for bringing him home safely. I’ll bring you a whiskey.”
“Make it a double.”
“That was my plan. You earned it.” Alexandra’s smile faded as she turned to find all the staring witnesses. They’d kept their silent distance, but stayed close enough to listen in. “What are you all looking at? Get back to work.”
As always, her word put everyone in action. The miniature crowd dispersed and returned to their previous tasks. It was like any day at Delaga House. Cleaning and tidying, working their way through each room. When clients arrived, the venue would be immaculate. I noted the staff members, trying to remember their names, when I realized who was missing, who should be here above all others. I wasn’t sure how to react.
Blythe managed to read my mind out loud. “Where’s the boss?”
“He’s in his office. Don’t let his absence fool you. He’s been in a state since I made it home last night.”
Resentment boiled in me, fraying my self-restraint. “In a state of what? He couldn’t be bothered to greet us? We were only nearly murdered by one of his rivals, but I can imagine how difficult this must be for him.”
“Rother’s in the middle of something. He asked me to send you to his office.”
“Asked or ordered you?” I snarled at her with all my venom.
Alexandra’s hands rose to her hips in annoyance. “Excuse me?”
Corralling my rising anger fogged my vision with tears, determined to be born. It was like every one of my frustrations from arriving at Delaga House resurfaced all at once. Alexandra deserved none of my wrath. I caught the slight movement of Blythe’s hand reaching to me, but he stopped himself short. Closing my eyes, I placed my hand over my mouth as if I could force all the discontent Delaga House brought out of me down my throat.
“I’m sorry, Alexandra. That was very rude of me.” I opened my eyes and peered up at her, praying I wouldn’t start crying in front of everyone. “I’m still unsettled. You’re the last person here I should be harsh with. Please forgive me.”
Alexandra’s lip trembled, and she angled her head to break eye contact. A slow hiss from her nostrils deflated her. “I’m sorry too. I should have expected you to be on edge. Gather yourself and go see Rother. I’ll bring you both drinks when you’re done.”
I sniffed and nodded as she walked away in the direction of the kitchen. As she vanished through the doorway, I saw her dab at her eye with a curled knuckle. Before I embarrassed myself further, I entered the hallway adjoining the office so I wouldn’t be in full view of everyone.
With one hand on the wall for support, I worked to purge the emotions disintegrating my control, using long, concentrated breaths. A firm hand covered my shoulder and lent me its strength. It took everything I had not to lean into it and pick up where we’d left off this morning. Once I could speak, I kept it down to a whisper. “I should have known you’d be behind me.”
“Don’t ever forget.” Sadness colored Blythe’s grumble. “C’mon. Let’s see Rother and get those drinks.”
We entered Rother’s office to find him scribbling onto several pages of parchment. Lines of text covered half of the top sheet. Seeing us, he lifted the pen and jammed it into the open inkwell. “Anyone want to tell me where the hell you’ve been?”
Blythe and I had discussed an edited version of our story in the carriage so neither of us would tell it differently. Defensive from Rother’s remark, I decided to let Blythe start.
“I took Nathan to a safe house. He was in no shape to run, so I sent Alexandra ahead to tell you what happened. I made sure she could take care of herself. We hid until morning businesses opened and we could get back without raising any eyebrows. They were after Nathan. Didn’t know if Avaston had anyone else around.”
“You left them alone long enough to be attacked.” Rother rose from his chair and leaned forward with both hands on his desk.
“Didn’t know we had any real threats to worry about. You never mentioned it. Nathan should have been fine for a few minutes. Alexandra took out one by herself.”
“And now?”
Blythe’s whole manner darkened. “Now, anyone who tries to hurt Nathan disappears. Forever. You have my word.”
Disappears. A single word with unexpected power sent nervous slivers into my bones. Could my husband feel the challenge, the ruthless vengeance Blythe pledged with his callused fists? Surely he must have understood what Blythe was capable of when he saved the man from the hangman’s noose. The threatening promise settled into Rother, culling his aggressive stance. It didn’t extinguish it outright, but redirected it to an easier target.
Resuming his chair, Rother aimed his annoyance at me. “You look awfully well-bathed for the victim.”
His near-accusation offended me, but I strived to stay calm. I’d already vented my confusion on Alexandra, and doing so with Rother was suicide. I ran boring comportment lessons in my head—enough to dull a hyperactive child—to stave off my unstable mood.
“After Blythe saved me, I was covered in David’s blood and gore. I couldn’t exactly walk down the street in that state.” For the hundredth time, I checked my sleeve and shoulder for smatterings of blood. I’d repeated the ritual for most of the ride home as my nerves frazzled the closer we came to Delaga House.
Blythe caught me eyeing my sleeve again and stepped into the conversation. “We couldn’t have gotten home without everyone seeing. I didn’t want to try and explain it to a constable. You never know who Avaston’s got his finger up in.”
“Are you sure it was Avaston’s men?” Rother asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. I recognized his assistant, David, from the night I met Mr. Avaston.” My voice quivered. “David held me at knifepoint and threatened to kill me.”
“And where were you while this was happening?”
Blythe crossed his arms over his ample chest, daring Rother to say more. “Putting down the rest of Avaston’s men.”
Slumping back in his chair, Rother tapped the armrest with an impatient knuckle. It was hard to say if he was digesting Blythe’s retort or if the whole scenario wrenched him off his throne. Rother didn’t appear to know how to manage a threat to his dominance. Agitation hinted at bad things to come.
Rother rubbed his hand over his unshaven jaw. “We need to send them a message.”
“That’s what David said he was doing to you.” I sounded ineffectual to my own ears. The growing temperature in the office threatened to suffocate me.
“We’re going to send one back.”
Blythe’s voice was forceful as always. “Already sent. They’re lying in the alley.”
“We can do more.” The rap of Rother’s knuckles increased.
I felt the color flee my cheeks at his suggestion. “Aren’t four dead men enough?”
“No, it’s not. A
vaston may have liked his assistant, but employees are expendable. No, I have other avenues.”
Lurching forward, Rother picked up his quill and continued writing with a furious scratch. Something about his letter writing worried me. “What are you doing?”
“Writing my solicitor and the Chief Magistrate.”
“For what purpose?”
Rother didn’t even look up as he snorted and wrote with equal disdain. “Avaston thinks he can just walk in here and take my property? I told him before I wasn’t interested in his garbage. No street trash crook orders me around.”
The scribble of ink, quill, and parchment rendered everyone present mute. As if one could hear the omen preparing to be born with each wild pen stroke. Rother didn’t offer a smile of satisfaction when he finished. He tossed the pen to the side and jumped up, heading to the safe. The tumblers spun under his touch and the door opened with a thunk. He reached inside and drew out his brass personal stamp.
Cool sweat blossomed down the center of my back, and my hands felt damp and dirty. A phantom itch started at my neck as Rother took the glass shade off an oil lamp and used it to heat the end of a wax stick. A glossy sanguine blob dripped to the letter next to his signature. Before it could cool, he pressed the stamp into the pool of bloody wax and left the hated imprint I worked hard not to see in the mirror each day. A mustache of cold perspiration covered my upper lip by the time he repeated the process on the second letter.
Rother didn’t seem to notice. “There. All nice and legal.”
“What is it?” The strangled question barely left my mouth. I’d always believed such noises ended in adolescence.
“A letter totaling up all of Avaston’s fees for using Vivian’s services. He should have discussed the numbers in more detail. By the time I’m done he won’t be able to afford the final balance, so I’m demanding proceedings to liquidate his property and businesses to make amends.”
“You can do that?”
Rother folded the letters to exact proportions with a reverent touch. “Gabriel will process the legal claim and Saux will enforce it. They told me I just needed a justifiable avenue. Avaston and his people will have a hard time stopping it.”
His audacity stilled my tongue. Thankfully, Blythe didn’t share the same condition. He was shocked. “You’re gonna try to bankrupt him?”
“I won’t be trying, just doing.”
I found my voice, realizing how far Rother would take this. “You’re declaring war on Avaston.”
Rother’s head snapped up, his eyes flared hot and wide. “I’m retaliating after he declared war on me. How dare he attack what’s mine? Avaston sent his men after you to teach me a lesson. Well, I learned. I’m not some little cheap addict he can control. Avaston may think I’ll fold if he starts making trouble, but I have people who owe me. I haven’t caved yet, and he’s been pushing at my door for well over a year.”
“Why?”
“He’s smart enough to figure out how much money Delaga House can make and wants a piece of it. As if once he gets in, he can take it outright. I didn’t build this place from nothing to let that piece of shit dealer take it from me. Avaston doesn’t know who he’s fucking with.”
“But what if he escalates?”
He stuffed the letters into envelopes with far less care than he’d folded them. “Then we’ll return the favor. I’m not without resources.”
This was outrageous. “And if he kills one of us? You can’t play this game with our lives!”
“Shut the hell up!” Rother snatched a book off his desk and hurled it faster than I could duck. It clipped my ear and smashed something fragile behind me. The horror of David’s death repeated down my spine, startling me into submission. I cringed, holding myself tight as Rother ranted. “The last thing I need from you is your constant nagging! Fucking hell! Everything I’ve worked for is on the verge of crumbling. I will not lose it all! The least you can do is stand beside your husband. You remember that vow, right?”
Blythe’s body tensed, like before when he killed David. “That’s bullshit—”
I had a handful of Blythe’s sleeve without thinking. “No. Blythe, don’t. Rother’s right. I should be more supportive.”
“What the fuck—”
I nearly gagged trying to remember my role. For my sake and Blythe’s, we had to be on Rother’s side, whether it was true or not. There was too much to lose to allow Rother to turn his unstable mood on us. “Rother’s under a great deal of strain. We should leave him to his work.”
Rother’s suspicious gaze flitting between us didn’t go unnoticed. By either of us. When he focused on my hand clutching Blythe’s sleeve, I let go. Blythe released his fists, but his posture vibrated with disagreement. However, he managed to sound somewhat apologetic. “Yeah. Sorry, boss. It’s been a rough day.”
“Please. Out of my office. The sight of you both is infuriating.”
I passed a cautious nod to my husband. “Of course. I could use some rest.”
We drifted toward the door, Blythe behind me, with no acknowledgment from Rother. All he did was reach for his address book to finish his correspondence.
The last twenty-four hours had unraveled my composure, allowing every emotion to swirl under the surface in some toxic soup. On top of the putrid flavors sat one above all: offense.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Rother’s self-involvement was no secret to anyone who knew him. Delaga House would always be his singular priority and all others—his employees, because that’s how he saw us—were disposable. My ego chafed as well. Courting my husband was simply a part of the larger plan, but his ability to dismiss the attack on me as being more about himself added to my vexation.
Stopping short of the door, I spoke to Rother over my shoulder. “By the way, the knife wound was shallow and didn’t bleed much. David beat me enough to leave a fair number of colorful bruises. I’ll likely be aching for days.”
“Are you asking me to call for Dr. Perrin?”
“That won’t be necessary. I thought it was important because I know how much you care about my health and well-being.”
I promised to atone for my vanity when all of this was over.
Blythe shoved me into the hallway, hissing under his breath as he closed the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to set him off?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not myself.”
“Just remember: You made me promise not to go after him. Don’t give me a reason to break that.”
Dropping my head into my hands, I scrubbed at my face to wash away the idiocy. Picking a fight with Rother went against all my plans. My experience at David’s hands had left me in worse condition than I realized. Bruises weren’t the only damage he’d inflicted. “You’re right. That was stupid.”
I hadn’t spent much time thinking about the attack last night once I gave in to Blythe. Drinking in his attentions, I’d drowned out everything else. Since that wasn’t an option now, I had to process the whole experience instead of shunting it aside. If only we could go back to the warm bed and lose the world.
Once I collected myself, Blythe nudged me down the hall. “C’mon. Let’s find Alexandra.”
She wasn’t hard to find, and true to her word, she ushered us both onto the screened porch. On the quaint table, a complete tea set waited for me. Next to it sat a short glass and tall bottle of liquor for Blythe. He wasted no time unstopping the flask and filling his tumbler half full. One swallow emptied it, and he replenished his drink with the same speed.
“You want some whiskey?”
“No, thank you. I’ll stay with my tea.” I winced at my tender flank as I sat down, cursing David and his boots.
“You still sore?”
“David was thorough, but I’m sure it’s nothing that won’t heal with time.” Lifting the teapot almost caused me to curse out loud. I’d nearly died, and now pouring my simple beverage was a challenge. My hands were anything but steady, yet I willed myself not to spill
anything. I would not continue to be weak.
“Your hands are shaking.”
“Are they? I hadn’t noticed.” I tried not to rattle the cup against my teeth as I took a sip.
Blythe slowed down and took smaller mouthfuls of his whiskey as we relaxed. Overlooking the gardens, the sunporch was my favorite place in Delaga House. It was a shame I’d ignored it since my father’s last session.
“I should be coming here more often. The garden is very calming.” I looked up at Blythe and found him still standing. “Have a seat.”
“Can’t. Never have before. Don’t want people to start talking. Alexandra already figured out what I was thinking about you. She bitched me out at lunch while you were washing up. It’s too dangerous.”
My calm splintered into sorrow, digging deep with a truth I’d already been aware of, but not faced. Our safety revolved on no change in the status quo. Blythe could be my bodyguard and a trusted employee, but not my close friend.
Or more. Not here. Not now.
My exhale stuttered, and it had nothing to do with David. “You’re right.” I reached out and dumped my tea into a nearby plant, then presented the empty cup to Blythe. “I’ll take some of that whiskey before you go.”
He poured me a healthy dose. “Want me to leave the bottle?”
“No. You’ve tempted me enough for one day.”
I stared out into the garden as he left me alone in my favorite room. Harsh whiskey burned my throat with the smallest sips and the vapors seared my nostrils, but I didn’t cast it away. I would not fall apart. I would not start to cry as the loneliness chittered at me in vile, insidious whispers. I would not continue to live as prey.
There was a great deal still to do, but I knew what I needed.
Time to move forward.
Innocence and Carnality Page 28