25. Listen
LISTEN
When Rose left Reginald sleeping aboard the Phantom Gale, she’d believed she’d never see him again.
She had tried to memorize him before slipping out from under his arm—the dark hair falling across his brow, the shadow of whiskers darkening his jaw, and his face…
his dear face, that seemed younger somehow in sleep.
Then she’d returned to her home, halfway resigned already to some unknown future on the streets of London, only to find it being plundered.
And now, the very person who’d caused that—Reginald—was right here.
His coat hung open, his dark hair looked as though he had dragged his hands through it repeatedly, and he appeared tired. Frustrated.
But also… beautiful.
Rose’s heart struck hard against her ribs.
Blast him.
She stood just inside the study, six-month-old Ernest resting against her shoulder, while Reginald stared at her from across the room.
No one moved until the duchess touched Rose lightly at the elbow.
“I believe the two of you have more to discuss than the rest of us need hear,” she said, glancing between them. “Particularly after this morning.”
The duke understood at once. He crossed the room and held out his arms for Ernest.
Still numb, Rose gave up the baby with reluctance. Grateful at least that it allowed her a moment to look somewhere other than Reginald.
“I believe, my love, that tea awaits us,” the duke said, settling the infant against his chest.
The duchess glanced between Rose and Reginald again. “Yes,” she agreed. “And I’m suddenly parched.”
Then, she gave Rose’s arm one last reassuring squeeze and followed her husband out of the study.
As the door shut, Rose’s resolve wavered.
For one dangerous moment, Rose nearly crossed the room and threw herself into his arms. Nearly reached for the mouth that had kissed and tasted every inch of her the night before.
Then she remembered The Domus as she had found it just after dawn.
The front doors propped open. Trunks of all colors and sizes crowding the hall. Mr. Huxley with his spectacles crooked and papers trembling in his hands as he argued with that wretched Mr. Sedgwick.
Anger rushed back so swiftly that her blood seemed to pound beneath her skin.
“How dare you?”
Reginald flinched.
“You promised me.”
“Rose—”
“You promised no one would be turned out until they had somewhere safe to go.”
“I know.”
“You made me think you would be compassionate. I believed you!”
“I will be. I am.” He reached for her hands, but when Rose stepped back, his own fell slowly to his sides. “It’s all just a terrible mistake.”
“A mistake?” Rose’s voice shook. “There were men inside our home telling everyone to pack their belongings. Do you know what that feels like?”
“No.” Reginald’s answer came quietly. “You know I don’t.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face and his shoulders sagged for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I should have made my instructions more clear. I should’ve made it impossible for Sedgewick—or anyone else—to believe they had permission to act before the sale was complete.”
Her fury faltered, though it didn’t disappear.
“He still overstepped,” Reginald continued. “He had no authority to enter The Domus, much less begin clearing it. He knows that now.”
Rose paused. She’d known him only a month, but in that time, he’d not given her reason to believe he’d lie about something like this… “But you accepted the offer.”
Reginald dipped his chin. “I did.”
And there it was. The fight was over.
Devastation landed, but not because Rose doubted she could make her own way. Not even because she was losing her home.
Reginald was still watching her, but that air of apology had faded from him. “Now you answer something for me,” he said. “Mrs. Smith told me why you came to the ship.”
But Nell didn’t… No!
Rose’s heart dropped all over again.
What exactly had Nell told him? That it had all been part of their plan? Why?
“She said you came only because she sent you to seduce me. That it was their last hope.” His voice remained painfully controlled. “That you were their last hope.”
For one terrible moment, Rose couldn’t breathe. “Reginald—”
“Was that why you came to me on the ship? For The Domus?”
“Do you believe I would really do that?”
But she’d meant to.
“Hell, Rose. I don’t know what to believe.” Hurt crossed his face. Then he looked away.
Even with the hopelessness of it all, she couldn’t let him believe that.
“No.” She stepped toward him. “It wasn’t for The Domus.”
Rose searched her mind for how to begin.
“The first night last spring, at the masquerade, I had been sent to learn more about the club’s new owner.”
He swung back around, eyes widened. “You knew who I was?” His voice caught. “And that’s why—?”
“No.”
“All this time—”
“No!” Her voice tightened with panic. “I didn’t know who you were. I swear to you. I had been told you left the masquerade early. I was just leaving when I collided with you.”
Reginald turned and began to pace, his shoulders rigid with barely contained tension. “God, Rose.”
“What happened in the garden had nothing to do with The Domus,” she said. If only she could touch him…
“And neither did last night.”
But there was still skepticism in his eyes, so Rose took a step closer.
“You need to listen to me. Just as I heard you out about that dreadful Mr. Sedgewick.”
He studied her before answering.
“The ship,” he said.
Two words.
A question.
Rose clasped her hands to keep them from trembling.
“Yes. Nell sent me. She said to make it impossible for you to deny me anything. And then, after, to ask you one last time to leave The Domus open.”
At this point, Reginald tilted his head. Almost as though he could finally see her.
“You didn’t ask me, though.”
“No. I knew before I even stepped on your boat that I couldn’t do it.”
His silver eyes searched hers, fierce and almost desperate.
“So why did you come, then?”
Why?
Because she’d wanted him.
She’d wanted to make love with him, knowing it would feel different from anything that had come before.
She’d gone because she wanted one night that belonged only to them. Knowing it would also be their last.
“I needed to love you once before I let you go.”
Finally. Finally, a light flared in his eyes.
“Love?”
Rose simply nodded. And then shrugged.
“I never imagined it could happen to me… love.”
“But you left.” He said. “Why?”
Rose dropped her gaze, searching for the right words.
“The Domus didn’t just save me, it didn’t just give me a home. It made me who I am.” Her throat ached. “And if you truly believe it is so shameful—so wrong—that you can have no part of it, then how could you ever feel for me what I feel for you?”
Rose forced herself to lift her eyes.
“I couldn’t give myself to a man who only wanted part of me.”
He stared at her as though she’d struck him.
“The Domus isn’t shameful.”
Rose went still.
“I was wrong about it,” he said. “And I love you, Rose. Don’t you know that?”
She wanted desperately to believe him. Wanted to seize those words and hold them close.
But wanting her had never been the problem.
“But—”
Reginald crossed the space between them, stopping just beyond her reach.
“I love you.” A strained laugh escaped him. “God, I’ve made a ruin of saying it.”
“Reginald—”
“I was an idiot.”
Rose’s lips parted.
“I asked you to give up everything.” He shook his head. ““I never told you what I’d give you in return.”
He let out a bitter breath.
“I was so pleased with myself. I imagined showing you the world. New ports. New cities. Every place I’d seen, only better because you would be beside me.”
His expression tightened.
“But it was all about what I wanted. You aboard my ship. You giving up your life to join mine.”
“Oh, Reginald.”
“I told myself I was offering you freedom.” He shook his head. “But I was asking you to surrender your home. Your family. The one place that had ever made you feel safe.”
He reached for her hands.
“I don’t want only part of you, Rose.”
His silver eyes held hers.
“I want all of you.”