Seven Nights to Forever (39 page)

“Why did you never tell me?” he demanded.

“I couldn’t tell you after Father had passed away. You were heart-broken.” Dash adored the man, had put him on a pedestal long ago and never taken him down. Still looked on their father’s memory through the eyes of a boy. But not anymore. She had just tarnished that precious, perfect image Dash held of him. “And I didn’t want you to suffer because he had gambled away everything.”

“So you decided to sell yourself?”

She nodded. “It was the only solution. Father didn’t just leave us penniless, he left us with a mountain of debt that needed immediate attention.”

“And you never saw fit to inform me of any of this?”

“You were thirteen at the time. A boy.”

“I have not been thirteen for five years.”

She tipped her head. “As I have been informed of late, yes, you are no longer a boy. I admit, I should have been more open with you, but you’re my younger brother. I can’t help but want to protect you and provide for you. I don’t want to argue with you about that, though. That chapter of my life is now closed. I am done with it, and that is why I called you home.” The tight knot in her stomach began to unwind. He now knew the worst of it and had not stormed out of the house, disgusted and appalled at how low she had sunk. Had not, so far of yet, turned his back on her. “The debts have been settled, but the coffers are still nigh to dry. I cannot afford to keep up the house or fund your allowance, not to mention your other expenses. I need your help, Dash, to determine how we should go on from here.”

He stared at her for a long moment. A wince wrinkled his brow and then his gaze, heavy with regret, slipped over her shoulder to the window behind her. “If I had known, I would never have let you do it.”

“I know,” she stated quietly.

A short nod and he dropped back into the chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, the despair now gone. “Why haven’t you sold the house?”

“It’s yours. Your birthright.”

“Rosie, when was the last time I was here?” Her heart clenched at the endearment. She had not lost him. Her faith had not been misplaced. “I’ve never cared for the country and . . . this was
his
house. It reminds me too much of him. I could never live here again. It’s not entailed, therefore unless you have an objection, I propose we sell it.”

She had called Paxton Manor home all her life. It would be hard to part with it, but it truly had become more of a burden than anything. “All right.”

“The apartments in London are paid for, correct?” At her nod, he continued in a remarkably steady and businesslike fashion, “Then we can use some of the proceeds from the sale of the house to see you settled. Where would you like to live?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t given it any thought.” The only place she wanted to be was with James, but that was never to be.

“Well, think on it. You have a bit of time.” He reached across the distance separating them to give her a reassuring pat on the knee. “Perhaps a nice cottage in the country, though I do worry about you living alone. I would much prefer to see you settled with a husband.”

“That will never happen, so best to give up hope now.”

“Why ever not? You’re a beautiful woman. It wouldn’t take much effort at all for you to find a husband.”

“You forget, Dash, what I have been. No decent man would want to take a whore to wife, not even a retired one.” The blunt words hurt, but they were necessary. The only way for Dash to see the truth.

But rather than put him off the subject, it only brought her compassion. “Oh, Rosie.” He shifted to sit beside her, took her hand in his. “I’m certain that’s not true. If he loved you, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Yet I could never love him back,” she whispered. “My heart belongs to another, but he can never be mine.”

“Who?” he asked gently.

“It matters not. It is over and done with.” Unwilling to speak another word of James, she pulled her hand from his. Dwelling on him would do no good. Nothing could come from it but more heartache. “I would like to see you return to school. You need to complete your education.”

For that statement, she got a roll of his eyes. “Oxford again?” But he didn’t bristle with affront, rather he stood and gave his coat a tug to straighten it. “I do intend to return, but not at the moment. I need to see you settled and the house sold.” Then his gaze turned serious. “I won’t let you down again.”

In the span of a few minutes, he had grown up before her eyes. His stance stronger, more confident. Determined. Not that of a boy, but of a man.

He held out his hand. “Come along, we should retire for the night. And I find myself in need of a guide to my bedchamber. I seem to have forgotten where it is,” he said, with a hint of his impish charm.

“Of course,” she said, placing her hand in his and letting him help her to her feet. “It’s up in the nursery. I’d be more than happy to lead the way.”

With a look of mock affront, he nudged her with his elbow. If he had indeed still been a reckless young boy, he would have nudged her hard enough to land her on her backside. As it was, her stride didn’t even falter as they left the drawing room.

“My apologies. I couldn’t resist,” she said, the chuckle lingering in her voice.

She could never have James, but she had not lost her brother.

Her future would likely include a small little cottage, someplace in the country far removed from Town. Not much, but it would allow her to hold her head high, something she had not been able to do in years.

“UNFORTUNATELY
she is not available,” Rubicon said, the usual gracious smile completely absent.

With sheer force of will, James kept himself from leaping to the first conclusion that popped into his mind. “What do you mean?”

She held up a hand. “Let’s not have a repeat of one of our prior meetings, shall we?” Her blunt words, laced with heavy sarcasm, took him aback. “Rose is not here. She did not return this month.”

His mind seized with shock. Then he dropped into the scarlet leather chair, gripped the arms of the chair tightly. He hated the thought of her being at Rubicon’s, but he
needed
her there tonight. It had never crossed his mind that she wouldn’t be there.

How was he to find her? He realized she had never told him where she resided. Likely done deliberately. Why hadn’t he ever asked where she lived? Vague references to the country were of little help when most of England could be classified as “the country.” He could understand her keeping her personal life hidden from clients, but he wasn’t just one of her clients. He was the man who loved her. And why in God’s name had he never specifically asked her for her family name? He knew so much about her, yet also so little. Frustration welled up inside. Frustration at himself, not at her.

Her brother, perhaps? He resided in town. But tracking down an eighteen-year-old buck when all he had was the name “Dash” would be an effort in futility. If he did find him, what would he tell him? “I need to speak to your sister?” As if the young man would just point him in the right direction. No man with a modicum of sense would willingly offer up his sister to a stranger, and it wasn’t as if James could give an explanation for how he had met Rose. She never wanted her brother to know of her time spent at Madame Rubicon’s.

It was all he could do to keep his expression blank, to hide the tumult of emotion within. The hope that had been building from the moment when he’d made the decision to seek out his solicitor drained out of him in a great rush, leaving him beyond numb.

He had lost her.

“I understand your disappointment,” Rubicon said, though she spoke without a trace of compassion. “Rose is a woman without compare, but there are many beautiful women in this house. Perhaps you could be tempted by a lovely blonde tonight?”

He barely heard the madam, just shook his head. Then he went still, that day at the park crystallizing in his mind with startling clarity.

Perhaps he could speak to someone who knew Rose’s whereabouts.

“Or maybe a striking redhead? I can summon a few for you to select from if you so desire.”

“Not necessary. I would like to see Mr. Timothy Ashton.”

In all his dealings with the madam, he had never witnessed shock. She had certainly not expected that request from him. But it only took a moment for her to snap her slack jaw shut, to gather her composure, though the question was still clear as day in her eyes. He did not care one whit what she thought of him. Let her think him a goddamn sodomite, if it would put him on a path that led to Rose.

“Is he available this evening?” he asked, impatient to have the matter settled. If not, he’d wait right here until the man made himself available.

“Yes. You are in luck.” She paused. “Are you acquainted with Mr. Ashton?”

“I wish to spend some time with him this evening.” He pulled the fold of pound notes from his pocket and slapped them on her desk. “The usual rate?” Rubicon had made it clear to him on previous occasions that Rose was the brothel’s most prized possession. He highly doubted Ashton fetched such a price, but he was in no mood to negotiate.

As he hoped, her eyes glinted with a distinct note of greed. “Yes.” She took the pound notes, tucking them in her desk drawer. Then she reached behind to tug on a velvet rope, not the one she had used in the past. Within a moment, a servant entered the office and stopped next to her desk. She scrawled out a note and handed it to the servant, who departed as quickly and quietly as he had entered.

In a rustle of scarlet silk, she stood and rounded the desk. “If you will come with me.”

He bolted up from the chair and followed so close on her heels the tips of his shoes brushed her skirt. She didn’t lead him toward the hidden door, but to the main door of the office. Hand on the brass knob, she glanced over her shoulder, a superior, mocking look in her eyes. Then the door swung open, revealing another servant at the ready.

“One of the staff will show you the way.”

He followed the servant down the corridor, in the opposite direction of the muted voices coming from the right. The servant didn’t once glance at him or speak one word, as she led James through the servants’ area of the house and down the stairs he had traversed many times. When they reached the small entrance space, she opened the door opposite the kitchen, taking him down yet another flight of stairs. A bit of dampness seeped from the stone walls on either side. She stopped at the door at the end of the stairs and rapped once on it. A pause. Then the click of the latch echoed off the stone walls as she opened the door.

The instant he stepped over the threshold, the door shut behind him with a heavy thud.

He would never have guessed a room like this existed. It certainly didn’t match any of the other areas of the house. A massive bed with a wrought iron frame dominated one wall. The sight of the leather straps tied to the four posts, the ends laid out on the scarlet silk sheets, made his skin crawl. A mahogany cabinet dominated another wall—he didn’t even want to know what it contained. A single chain about a foot in length was suspended from the ceiling a few paces from the foot of the bed. And beneath it was a man, on his knees and clad in black breeches and nothing else, his dark blond head bowed in submission.

“Ashton?”

His head snapped up. Absolute shock and then his gaze hardened for one brief instant before he dropped his chin to his chest. “I am yours to do with as you please.” The words were stilted, weighed down with the obvious effort required to mask the pure malice James had glimpsed.

“For Christ’s sake, get up.”

With a wary glance, Timothy Ashton got to his feet in a single graceful movement.

“You are Rose’s friend, are you not?” He didn’t wait for Ashton’s nod as he already knew the answer. Rose had referred to him as
the dearest of friends
. “Then you are aware she did not return to Town. I need to speak with her. Do you know the location of her country house?”

“Why?”

“It is of no concern of yours.”

“I’m afraid it is, Mr. Archer,” he replied, all politeness yet backed with steel. He seemed completely unaffected by the surroundings. They could very well be at White’s, debating the latest bill before Parliament. “Rose is my friend.”

“I respect that, and I would not ask if it were not imperative. I need to speak with her.”

“She won’t accept your money.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“Then why do you need to speak to her?” Ashton crossed his arms over his bare chest, resolute, refusing to offer up any information unless James answered his question to his satisfaction.

“I intend to ask for her hand,” he admitted.

Ashton lifted a suspicious brow. “You are already married.”

“Not for long.”

“You are divorcing your wife?”

He tipped his head.