Page 97 of Cocky August Rake

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.