Page 19 of Cocky August Rake

What should she show him first? What would make the strongest impression?

The private rooms, perhaps. Or the sitting room. Then the kitchen, where Mrs. Frye, once employed by one of Mayfair’s fussiest duchesses, understood culinary appetites nearly as well as the women upstairs understood carnal ones.

Later, she’d direct him back to the office to go over the accounts, where Mr. Huxley could explain precisely how little of his attention would be required to keep The Domus running smoothly.

As they neared the grand staircase, the voices from below grew louder.

But then they fell silent.

Not gradually.

All at once.

Rose stopped and looked down, and realized too late that she ought to have expected something like this.

Nearly everyone employed by The Domus had gathered in the main entertainment room—ladies, maids, footmen, kitchen staff, Nell, and Mr. Huxley.

Even Boris, their head of security, was there. All seven feet of him. Silent. Watchful.

And every single face was turned upward—toward Lord Reginald.

Rose felt him go still behind her.

They had all been waiting.

Of course they had. They had heard the rumors circulating in London ever since Malum had stepped away. They knew the duke’s younger brother had finally returned, and that he now had the authority to decide what became of them all.

And apparently, none of them intended to wait politely while he made that decision from behind a desk.

Nell’s gaze traveled over Lord Reginald with open assessment.

“Well then,” she called, her voice carrying cleanly through the room. “Have you made your decision?”

No one moved.

Rose glanced back at his lordship.

His face had gone unreadable. Not cold, exactly. But careful. Like a captain sighting weather on a horizon.

Stepping forward, he looked… uncomfortable.

And yet, somehow, also, entirely certain.

“I have,” he said.

Rose’s stomach tightened.

“The future of this establishment concerns many people. I understand that.” His gaze moved over the faces before him. “I also understand that you depend upon this place for both your livelihood and your home. So rather than pretend otherwise, I’ll be clear.”

He paused.

“I intend to close The Domus and sell the property.”

Not a single person moved.

“No one will be destitute,” he continued. “There will be stipends. References, where they are useful. Discreet placements. Assistance for any person who wishes to seek a respectable occupation.

“But… Where will we live?”