Page 39 of A Raven Reborn

“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.”

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