23. Mistakes
MISTAKES
When Reginald woke, morning light streamed through the stern windows, and for a few hazy moments, he lay still, listening to the soft slap of water against the hull.
He was at home on his ship. The Phantom Gale was afloat again.
And Rose… she was in his bed.
Contentment so deep it couldn’t be real settled through him. Then he reached for her.
But only found empty sheets.
“Rose?” His eyes flew open, searching, frantically. But the cabin was empty.
For one foolish moment, he told himself she had simply gone above to explore. She’d likely persuaded one of his men to row her back to the docks so she could return to The Domus, collect her belongings, and say farewell to the women.
At some point, he’d have to convince her she wasn’t alone anymore. Not that she owed him an accounting of her movements. Rose had spent too many years fighting for the right to make her own choices.
But someone cared where she was now.
Someone would worry. He would worry.
Reginald was still considering how to tell her that when he saw the note propped up on his desk. Dread swooped down even before he read it.
Reginald—
You offered me more than I ever dreamed I might have.
But I cannot accept it.
You must go without me.
Forgive me, if you can.
Rose
He read the note again and again, but the words refused to fit with the night before. With the way Rose had held him. The look in her eyes. The love he’d felt in her touch.
No.
She’d been frightened. Overcome. She’d returned to The Domus because she couldn’t leave without explaining herself.
That was all.
Rose loved the women there. Of course she felt guilty about leaving them behind.
But she needn’t.
He’d set plans in place to provide money, safe lodging, and choices beyond the walls of The Domus. He’d meant to finalize the last details with Sedgewick the night before, until Rose’s arrival had driven every other thought from his mind.
Not a problem though, he could sign the papers today.
But not until he’d found Rose. And once she understood that no one was being abandoned, she would change her mind. She would come with him.
Reginald held to that certainty as he dressed, deliberately keeping his fear at bay when he gave Sam a series of clipped, precise orders.
“Stand down the pilot. We’re not clearing out today. Keep the men aboard and the stores ready, but hold off on fresh provisions.”
“Until tomorrow?”
Reginald’s jaw tightened. Even tomorrow felt uncertain now.
“Until I say.”
The Phantom Gale had been meant to sail for Cádiz on the afternoon tide, but they could wait.
Reginald would not leave London without Rose.
When he set foot on land, he didn’t bother sending for his carriage. Instead, he hailed the first hackney that came by and climbed in almost before the driver had even come to a full stop.
Luckily, the streets leading to The Domus were mostly clear. London was only just waking. It wasn’t until the hackney turned onto the familiar street, that the city began to stir in earnest.
And yet, even before they pulled up to the door, Reginald knew something was wrong.
The entrance to The Domus was usually easy to miss—little more than two discreet doors set into an unremarkable brick wall.
This morning, both stood wide open.
And as he stepped down, his confusion turned to unease.
Trunks crowded the entrance hall while maids hurried through the passages carrying clothes and linens. Voices sounded from the upper floors—too many, too loud, sharpened by a sense of panic.
No one should’ve been packing.
But then he saw an unexpected gentleman standing in the hall, and his unease flashed to anger.
“Sedgewick.” Reginald looked past him at the trunks lining the hall. “What the devil is happening?”
“Good morning, my lord.” The solicitor appeared almost pleased with himself. “Just clearing out the building. You seemed quite certain of your intentions when we last spoke.”
“My intentions?”
“To sail today.” Sedgewick spread his hands. “And to conclude the sale. When you missed our meeting last night, I saw no reason to delay matters.”
Reginald frowned.
“We haven’t finalized anything yet.”
“No,” Sedgewick admitted. “Not in so many words. But with your ship expected to depart this afternoon…” He glanced toward the hall. “It seemed expedient to begin preparing the premises for the purchasers.”
The meeting.
Blast.
His thoughts had been so focused on Rose that he'd scarcely remembered the appointment. But still. He’d sent word through Sam for Sedgewick to wait.
Reginald drew a measured breath.
“No one is being turned out of this house until every provision I ordered is in place.”
Sedgewick hesitated. “Every provision? Surely some might be postponed. Indefinitely, if necessary.”
At what point had the little man decided that?
“Absolutely not.” Reginald glanced around and swore under his breath. “And every provision means every. God. Damned. Provision.”
The contract could not have been clearer. He had included every promise made to Rose, Mr. Huxley, Boris—all of them—beneath an entire section titled Special Covenants for the Maintenance and Future Provision of the Present Residents and Servants.
The solicitor shifted his case beneath one arm.
“No bother, of course the purchasers will see to that business, but they wished to finalize inventory first. As your lordship was expected to be at sea, I believed—”
“The purchasers are to fulfill the provisions before taking ownership.”
Reginald's words came out quietly, through gritted teeth.
It was in the contract.
“It’s but a minor detail.”
“No,” Reginald said. “It isn’t. You, nor the purchasers, nor anyone acting on their behalf, sets foot inside The Domus again until every single one of the stipulations have been met.” Reginald held the solicitor's gaze.
He then stepped closer. “Your haste has inconvenienced every person in this house. It will not happen again. Get out. Now.”
“Yes... my lord.”
Silence fell in the room, and within moments, Sedgewick and the men accompanying him had retreated through the front door.
And yet Reginald’s attention had returned to the room, sweeping his gaze over every shadow and corner.
No Rose.
“Where is Miss Darling?”
A few of the women exchanged glances, and when no one answered, his pulse quickened.
Then Reginald saw Mrs. Smith, the woman who’d once greeted him with wary courtesy. Presently, she was standing on the stairs, looking down on him with open fury.
“And why should she wish to see you?” she demanded. “With all your broken promises.”
Reginald stilled. “What does that mean?”
“It means we kept our part of the bargain.” Mrs. Smith’s voice sharpened. “For a month, we showed you what makes this house different. Rose even gave up her clients, spent weeks trying to make you understand what The Domus means to us.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“And all the while, you never intended to reconsider a blasted thing.”
“That is not what happened.”
“Isn’t it?” Mrs. Smith came down a step. “You pretended to listen. You let us hope. And then you decided you knew better anyway.”
Was that how Rose saw him?
“I was trying to provide for everyone here.”
“No. You were trying to ease your conscience.” The older woman’s laugh held no humor. “Doing just enough to keep the duke from taking it all back.”
Reginald’s jaw tightened. She was only partially right. Still, a flicker of guilt cut through him.
His conscience had, in fact, been eating at him from the moment he took possession of this place. For an entire month, he had tried to do right by Harry, by Rose, and by every good person whose future now rested in his hands. Somehow, every choice was a betrayal.
Mrs. Smith’s accusation had found its mark.
“I wasn’t surprised that you took what Rose offered,” Nell continued, “I was, however, surprised you still meant to destroy her home.”
“What Rose offered?” he repeated, the words rougher than he intended.
For one sickening moment, doubt pinched in.
Rose had come last night because she wanted him. Hadn’t she?
“Yes, offered.” The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think she would have gone to your ship if I hadn’t sent her?”
Reginald stopped breathing. Rose came to the ship because she’d wanted to. Because she’d wanted him.
“Why would you say that?”
Mrs. Smith gave a bitter laugh. “Because you never understood.” She folded her arms. “I thought perhaps, if you spent one night with a woman like Rose—without having to promise a lifetime—that you might finally understand why places like The Domus exist.”
His stomach tightened.
Mrs. Smith mistook his silence for agreement.
“And I was right, wasn’t I? Rose showed you that a man may find pleasure without offering marriage, children, or a place in his home. That you could take what comfort she gave you and still simply sail away. But it didn’t do a lick of good, did it. You’re still shutting us down.”
Sail away?
Like hell.
He’d asked Rose to come with him, for God’s sake. How could anyone believe he meant to abandon her?
In all his years at sea, Reginald had never asked anyone to join him. Never imagined another person beside him when he pictured the horizon. To him, the words had meant more than he had known how to say.
But had Rose understood that?
Come with me.
It was not a proposal. Not a promise of marriage or any kind of permanent home. Only an invitation to abandon everything she knew and follow him into a life he had not bothered to define.
But she knew his heart, didn’t she?
“You’re wrong,” he said quietly.
Mrs. Smith’s brows lifted. “Then what was it?”
“I need to speak with her.” His voice nearly broke. “Please. Tell me where she is.”
Mrs. Smith’s expression shifted, and she studied him for a long moment.
Then, after what felt like hours, she dipped her chin.
“After you refused her final appeal to keep The Domus open, she went to the only other person who’d listen.”
The only person…
Of course.
Reginald marched out of The Domus, but he did not return to the ship.
Instead, he hailed another hackney and directed him to Regent Street.