Page 4 of A Raven Reborn

“A simple yes or no will do.” His voice offered encouragement rather than impatience and she raised her gaze to meet his.

“No. I had no wish to be there.”

“You see? We’ll get through this. Next question.” He smiled briefly. “Do you have any family who will take you in?”

Rosalyn shook her head. Tears began to fill her eyes. She’d like to think her mother would take her in, if not for the wretched man she was married to, but perhaps even she was too appalled by Rosalyn’s behavior. She looked down into her lap just as one tear crept over her bottom lid and slid down her cheek. His hand came to rest on her knee and even through the layers of fabric she could feel the warmth of him on her skin. It sent an unfamiliar fluttering sensation to her stomach. Startled, she looked up at his face, once more. His eyes, the color of light caramel encircled by a deep bronze ring, were filled with such kindness. She could lose herself in those eyes. But why?

“I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I can see it’s extremely difficult.” He sat back in his chair again, but his eyes never left hers. “I promise to do my best to keep you safe, but in order to do that, I need to know more about you and this situation.”

Who was this man, with his smiles, winks, and comforting touches? And where was the intimidating beast from last night? Rosalyn nodded. She wiped her tears, took a deep, steadying breath, and straightened her spine. This man had rescued her from what would surely have been hell, and had since been so kind to her, the least she could do was answer a few questions without all these added theatrics.

“How long have you been at Maison Rouge?”

At least she had a straightforward answer for that. “Two days.”

That seemed to surprise him. His eyebrows lifted and he nodded as he studied her. “So you really were the new girl.”

Rosalyn nodded. “I suppose you could say that.” She sipped at her tea.

“Was I to be your first, then?” Rosalyn barely avoided spewing tea everywhere, but in her haste to swallow, it went down the wrong way. She coughed and sputtered, the cup rattling against its saucer in her lap.

He jumped to his feet and moved the dishes to the side table. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head and coughed the last of the tea from her lungs. “I’m fine, thank you.” Finally able to catch her breath, that was almost true.

“You don’t need to answer that. I apologize.” He sat on the edge of his chair this time, apparently afraid he might have to jump back out of it again at any moment.

“Would you be comfortable giving me a brief account of how you ended up there?”

Why not? He’d found her in a brothel. It wasn’t as if he believed her to be a virtuous young lady, after all. “It’s quite simple, really.” She shrugged. “My father… stepfather… found me in a compromising situation.”

His brows sank into a vee and he tilted his head to the side. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

She sat up a little straighter and took a deep breath, but despite her determination not to shrink from the truth, she still couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes as she spoke the words. Instead, she trained her eyes just over his left shoulder. “He wouldn’t have a trollop living under his roof, and since I’m obviously a whore, at heart, I might as well do the thing right." She shrugged. "He drove me to Maison Rouge, and after disappearing inside for a half hour or so, he returned and ordered me out of the carriage.”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed and a muscle ticked on the side of his jaw. There was the man from last night. Anger suddenly radiated from every inch of him, and her heart began to pound in her chest once more. She swallowed nervously. Had he expected a different answer? Had she offended him? His fingers curled into fists, even as he closed his eyes, presumably trying to calm himself.

“Your father?”

“Stepfather,” she corrected.

“Regardless,” he growled. “Call him what you will, he still holds the responsibility of a father.”

“That man. Your stepfather. He took you to a brothel, and just left you, never to return?”

Rosalyn simply nodded. The man had certainly never been anything resembling a father to her. Patrick dug his fingertips into his forehead, massaging the muscles before turning his head sharply to the side, sending a ripple crackling down his neck.

“What about the man with whom you were caught? Do you wish to marry him?”

Rosalyn felt the color drain from her face and she swayed.

“I will take that to mean no.” He let out a long sigh. The silence that followed was awkward, made all the more so when she raised her cup to her lips to take another sip of tea, only to realize it was empty. He gave her a kind smile.

“Allow me.” As he poured, there came a knock at the door. “Ah, that will be the dressmaker.”

“The what?”

“You can’t very well stay in my robe forever. I am going to want it back eventually.” He gave her another of his winks that made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

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