Page 37 of A Raven Reborn

Patrick nodded and gestured toward the door. “Of course.”

Rosalyn hurried down the hall. Making sure he hadn’t followed her, she grabbed the hooded cloak he’d given her and rolled it up tightly and tucked it inside her velvet robe which she folded around it. Obviously, if he saw the cloak, he would have questions, but a warm robe wouldn’t raise his suspicions. She then grabbed A Christmas Carol off of the table. She treasured it too much to leave it behind, even if she didn’t deserve to keep it. She grabbed a handkerchief and the gambling chip he’d given her and stuffed them inside her bundle.

Making her way back down the long corridor, she straightened her spine and raised her chin. Crying would have to wait until later.

“There.” She held up the bundle in her arms. “Now I can read and be cozy in your favorite chair.”

Patrick arched one of his brows. “I thought you were supposed to be thinking.”

“I can think and read at the same time, believe it or not.”

Patrick chuckled. He rested his hands on her shoulders and brushed his lips softly across her forehead. “Good night, Rosie.”

Tears burned her eyes, but she held them back. “Good night, Patrick.” She quickly turned away and made her way to his chair. Please just go. Please just go. Finally, his footsteps moved into the hallway and gradually grew quieter as the distance lengthened between them. When his door eventually closed, she allowed one tear to escape. She still couldn’t release the entire deluge that was inevitably coming, just in case he came back. Now, she just had to wait for him to fall asleep. It was going to be the longest, most difficult wait of her life.

ChapterThirteen

After 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.

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