Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

A fter asking two different people for directions, Rosalyn finally stood staring up at the door to Maison Rouge. Her overlarge hood obscured her vision of everything else around her. Every inch of her trembled, partly from cold, but mostly from an overwhelming dread. There was no guarantee Madame Bustier would even take her back.

All at once, emotion ripped through her. Sobs erupted from her and she collapsed to her knees, curling in on herself. How was this her life? How had she fallen in love with a wonderful man, only to be forced to choose a life of grief to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life? Perhaps, deep down, she was a wanton woman, and this was simply the punishment she would have to endure for her sins.

Using what strength she had left, she forced the crying to stop and wiped the tears from her face. Taking a deep breath, she heaved herself to her feet, once more. She could do this. She had to. With a last steadying breath, she lowered her hood, squared her shoulders, and nodded.

It was time.

A large hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled roughly against a male body that definitely wasn't Patrick's. Another arm wrapped tightly around her middle. Panic shot through her and she flailed and kicked to no avail.

"No!" she screamed, but hardly a sound escaped the man's hand.

"Hush now," he said softly, into her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Of course he was going to hurt her.

"It's Ash," he said more urgently. "Patrick's friend!"

Rosalyn froze. Ash?

"I'm going to remove my hand, but I need you to promise me you won't scream." What good would screaming do? At this time of night and in this part of London, she was undoubtedly in more danger from any of the other men in their vicinity than from Ash.

"Promise?"

Rosalyn nodded, and Ash released her, but spun her around to face him. There was no malicious intent in his eyes, only concern. What was he doing here?

"I can't let you do this, Rosie." he pulled her hood up, but she pushed it right back down.

"Do what, exactly?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you think me a complete fool?"

"This isn't your decision to make, Lord Ashdown." He flinched, almost imperceptibly, but she'd gotten under his skin, just as she'd hoped to. She needed him to leave so she could march up those stairs right now, or she might change her mind. Didn't he know how hard this was for her?

"Lord Ashdown was my father," he said quietly. Dangerously. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he took a deep breath, presumably to calm himself. "I realize this isn't my decision, Rosie, but if I allow you to set foot in Maison Rouge, Patrick will never forgive me. In fact, he might just kill me."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes.

"You think I'm exaggerating," he said with a soft chuckle.

Of course he was exaggerating. He was Patrick's best friend.

Ash let out a sigh. "Look, it's cold, so we're going to continue this conversation in my carriage. You can either walk with me, or you can ride there on my shoulder. Your choice."

"You wouldn't dare!" she said, taking a step back. The look that came over his face was the same one she'd seen on Patrick's face when she'd challenged him. That had not ended well, and she knew instantly she'd made a mistake.

"Wait!" she shouted just as he lunged for her. He stopped, poised to continue the movement. "I'll walk," she said stiffly. "But please promise me you won't take me back to Patrick's."

With a nod, he threw her hood back over her head and held out his arm. With a huff she placed her own on top of his, and allowed him to escort her to his coach.

Ash's carriage was black with no markings and pulled by a beautiful pair of large, perfectly matched black horses. Up top, the driver paid her no heed. He also wore all black, including a scarf that covered most of his face. Inside, the carriage was lavishly appointed, but also black. As she sank onto the black leather seat, Ash dropped a plush blanket into her lap. What was he doing with her? He settled himself in the seat across from her and then thumped his cane against the ceiling. The carriage jolted into motion.

"You promised you wouldn't take me back!" Rosalyn protested pushing herself out of the seat. Ash simply raised his cane, blocking her way to the door.

"My word is my bond, Rosie."

After a moment, Rosalyn plopped back onto the seat. "What then? I'm just supposed to go and live with you now? I'm not some sort of toy that you can pass around to all of your friends." Tears of frustration began to sting at the corners of her eyes. Ash simply sat, his hands resting lazily on the stick that lay across his lap. He looked bored.

"Are you finished?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Rosalyn folded her arms across her chest and sat back, glaring at him. How dare he taunt her. He picked the blanket off the floor where it had fallen and dropped it back into her lap.

"You may as well be warm while we talk." Her pride didn't want to admit to any weakness, including being cold. But the truth was, she was freezing. Soon enough, her chattering teeth would give her away anyway. She spread the opulent fur over her legs and pulled it up to cover her arms as well.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "How did you know where to find me? Did Patrick send you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I haven't any idea what happened between Patrick and you, and quite frankly, it's none of my business. Since I haven't heard from him yet, I assume he doesn't even know you're missing." He brushed some dirt from his knee. It probably came from the bottom of her shoe when she'd been fighting him. "As for how I knew your whereabouts, I know everything that happens around here."

The answer was a bit vague, and she still didn't understand. "But, if you're not here for Patrick, then why did you stop me?"

Ash shrugged. "I have an opportunity for you that will be far better than anything you were going to find at Maison Rouge."

Rosalyn's heart began to pound inside her chest. He wanted her to be his mistress.

"And no, I'm not offering you a position as my mistress," he said, as if he had read her thoughts. "Again, Patrick would kill me."

"What then?" Rosalyn was so confused by everything that she didn't even know what to ask, and a tiny part of her was offended that he didn't want her to be his mistress. Not that she wanted to be.

"You are familiar with The Raven's Den. But what you may not know is that we have women who work there."

Again, not knowing what to ask, she simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

"In addition to their wages, we provide the women with a roof over their head, plenty to eat, and opportunities to learn skills to enable them to find other employment, should they choose."

"Really?" She might still be a whore, but it was, indeed, sounding better than Maison Rouge.

"I would prefer you just live in the dormitories with the women without doing the work, perhaps partake of some kind of training, but I already know you won't agree to that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had to track you down outside of that brothel."

Rosalyn laughed despite the direness she felt. "Should I be proud or ashamed?" She looked down at her lap, shame definitely winning that battle.

"You certainly should not be ashamed," he said, tapping her ankle gently with his cane. She raised her eyes and he looked at her earnestly. "You were only doing the best you could with the options you were given." He stared at her silently and eventually she nodded.

"Now, as for what the job would entail," he twisted his cane between his hands. "You would be fitted for a gown. They are raven themed, and somewhat revealing, but you'll also wear a mask to conceal your identity. And then mostly, you just pose." He shrugged.

"Pose?" Rosalyn furrowed her brow. "I don't understand."

"Well, Iris, she's the head Lady Raven, as it were… she designs different configurations and poses for you all to do as a group, and once or twice every night you'll dance."

It still didn't make any sense. "But what about," she paused, unsure of how to phrase it delicately. "So we do it as a group?" she asked.

"Yes." Ash nodded.

"But how does that even work… I mean, with the men?"

Ash tilted his head to the side in confusion, but then understanding suddenly dawned and he choked out a laugh. "No, no, no!" He shook his head. "You think I'm offering you a job as a prostitute?"

Rosalyn shrugged. "Of course. What else would women do in an establishment like that?"

Ash barked out another laugh. "First of all, you truly have no idea what Patrick would do to me. And second, The Raven's Den is a very fine establishment, I'll have you know."

"You talk about Patrick like he's some kind of violent beast."

"I just know how fervently he'll fight for the ones he cares about."

Rosalyn sighed. Accepting that Patrick cared about her, would make it all the harder to leave. She looked into Ash's eyes. "I left for him, you know. He'll be grateful for it one day."

"Well, as I said before, I don't know what has happened between the two of you. If it were up to me, Patrick would have brought you to Raven House the night he got you out of that hell hole."

She swallowed. Had this always been an option? If so, then why had he chosen to keep her with him instead?"

"As for the Lady Ravens," Ash continued, "they are simply on display. No touching is allowed. Ever."

The carriage rolled to a stop under a porte-cochere behind a rather nondescript building. Ash helped her to alight. An enormous man stood at attention beside the door, which he pulled open for them.

They stepped into a large entry hall. The furnishings were high quality, but not lavish or gaudy.

"You can remove your hood now. You're safe in here." Rosalyn followed Ash down a long corridor lined with doors on both sides. Chatter and giggling issued from behind several of them, and for some reason butterflies suddenly took up residence in her stomach. What would these women think of her?

When they reached the last door, Ash knocked softly.

"Come," answered a feminine voice from within.

Ash pushed the door open and gestured for Rosalyn to enter but didn't cross the threshold himself. A woman stood, wrapped in a burgundy, cotton robe, her damp hair hanging over her shoulders, and a comb in her hand.

"Evening, Ash." She raised her brow in question as she looked at Rosalyn.

"Daisy, this is Rosie. She will be sharing your room. Will you please show her the ropes and introduce her to the rest of the girls?"

"Of course I will," she said.

"Hold off until tomorrow. I expect she's tired."

Daisy just shook her head. "Well so am I." She held out her hand to Rosalyn. "Would you like a bath before bed?" she asked, turning her back on Ash. Rosalyn heard him chuckle as he pulled the door closed, leaving the two of them alone.

Rosalyn wasn't sure how she'd expected the woman to behave with Ash, but that was certainly not it. She'd expected flirting or at least a show of deference for her employer, but it had almost felt more like brother and sister. Was that how he treated all of the women? She looked back at the door before returning her focus to the question she'd been asked.

"Thank you, but I actually just bathed a few hours ago."

"Good," Daisy said with a smile. "Then take off your cloak and set down your things, and you can help me finish with this." She held up the comb and went to sit before the fire.

* * *

Patrick slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight seeped around the edges of his curtains. Somehow, he must have slept through the entire night. He yawned and stretched. After making himself presentable, he opened the door and walked down the hall to his study. Somewhere along the journey, a whirlpool started up in his stomach. As he crossed the threshold, he said a silent prayer. Please, just let her acquiesce.

But she wasn't in his chair. She wasn't in any of the chairs in the room. Nor was she asleep on the floor or in any of the corners. His heart speeding up a notch, he strode toward the kitchen. Perhaps she was cooking. Relief flooded him as voices floated from within, but it was quickly snatched away. Mary and Alfred laughed as they swatted one another with towels. They immediately stopped and snapped to attention upon his entrance.

"My lord," they said in unison, giving their respective bow and curtsey. Rosie was not there.

"Where's Rosie?" he asked them. They looked at each other and then back at him, their eyes wide. Alfred stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"I thought she was with you in your room, my lord."

"She wasn't in my room!" Patrick shouted. Alfred took a quick step back, looking at the floor.

Patrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This certainly wasn't the boy's fault. "Apologies, Alfred."

Patrick turned on his heel and hurried back to his study. She must be in there somewhere. He must have missed her somehow.

She definitely wasn't there. But then he spotted a folded sheet of paper lying in the middle of his desk, his name scrawled across it. The page rattled as his shaking fingers opened it.

Dearest Patrick,

Thank you for all you have done for me. Your kindness and generosity have allowed me to experience countless things I would otherwise never have known. I've even taken a few items with me, and I am beyond grateful for each one.

You are an amazing man, Patrick, and you deserve an amazing woman by your side. One who is your equal in every way. I cannot allow you to sacrifice your future for my own. One day, you will be glad of my departure.

Please don't come looking for me. Move forward with your own life and know that I will always treasure the memories and gifts with which you have provided me.

I will always remember our time together,

Rosalyn

Rosalyn? Patrick blinked and read the letter again. He laughed cynically under his breath. He hadn't even known her real name. He pounded his fist against the desktop, sending a burning pain through his shoulder.

She'd left him. In his attempt to keep her safe, he'd sent her running right into harm's way.

He had to find her, and for that, he was going to need Ash's help.

He raced down the steps and sprinted as fast as his feet would carry him toward Raven House. Ash was outside, talking to two of their largest henchmen. Raven House was always well secured. He looked up at Patrick as he approached.

"She's gone," Patrick gasped as he neared.

"I am aware," Ash said with a nod.

"You're aware?" What did that mean? "Is she here?"

"Yes." Ash gave another nod.

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine."

"Oh, thank god." Relief flooded through him. She was safe. "I need to talk with her." But as he took a step towards the door, Ash placed a hand on his chest.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." He blocked the way to the door, the large man on either side making it impossible to go around.

"What the devil do you mean?" He pushed Ash, trying to get him to move. "Get the hell out of my way, Ash. I need to speak with her!" But he simply shook his head.

"I gave her my word that I would not return her to you, and as you know, I always keep my word."

"Don't be ridiculous." Patrick pushed again, but Ash wouldn't budge.

"I don't know what you did to scare her off—" Anger reared up in Patrick like a serpent and he swung, his fist stopping Ash mid-sentence. Ash turned his face but didn't stop the punch that landed squarely against his jaw. The two doormen moved toward Patrick, but Ash held up a hand to stop them.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before turning back to look at Patrick. "I'll give you that one." His eyes were cold and dark. "But if you try to hit me again, I'll have you hogtied and carried home where you'll stay until you've calmed down."

"Damn it, Ash! I need to speak with her!" His entire body trembled with rage.

Patrick wanted more than anything to pummel Ash, landing one punch after another, but he wasn't stupid. Ash wasn't bluffing or exaggerating, and there weren't many who could take on Brennan or McKinnon and come out on top. And even though they technically worked for him too, there was a hierarchy, and Ash was at the top, especially here at Raven House.

"Rosie!" he yelled. "Rosie, I need to talk to you!"

With the briefest movement of Ash's chin, the two men grabbed Patrick, one on each arm, and began hauling him away.

"Damn you, Ash," he called over his shoulder. "Damn you to hell!"