Lord & Master (18 page)

I’d drawn breath to speak, but Jake was gone. He’d slipped from the stairwell without a sound.

Maybe he was a soldier-spy
, I thought.

If this were true, he was probably used to sacrifices. He wouldn’t say he’d leave and not mean it.

Heavyhearted, I entered my suite alone. The rose and gold rooms were lovely but too quiet with only me in them. I faltered, wondering if I should stop the game. I could go to Damien, talk to him as myself. This latest twist in our drama felt more somber than I was prepared for.

Then again, perhaps I should trust the men’s intentions. They couldn’t mean to upset me but only to work through something.

I wrestled with my clothing, managing to free myself from it on my own. Though Damien wasn’t there to see, I hung my gown carefully. I took a moment to hope Regina had enjoyed her game of charades. No doubt they’d been naked charades, considering what else I’d seen downstairs. My shoulders lifted and fell philosophically. I had neither the energy nor the moral superiority to climb up on a high horse.

Jake had reason to believe I’d keep succumbing to his allure.

I frowned at my tester bed. It was too stuffy looking, its frilly pile of pillows too perfect. Gathering my defiance, I strode to the door connecting my rooms and my husband’s. I’d never entered Damien’s domain. I hadn’t been invited.

“Too bad,” I said and went in.

I burst out with a laugh at my first look around. His color scheme was blue and silver rather than rose and gold. Other than that, his rooms were the mirror image of my own—same tables, same chairs, same handsome but stodgy bed.

I did notice one difference. On his right-hand night table, a bouquet of fresh daffodils stood in a clear glass vase.
Daffodil
was the regular me’s safe word. Once upon a time, it had saved my life. I stroked the vase, which was modern and cool and smooth. These flowers couldn’t be from the garden. Daffodils grew in spring. Did Damien guess I’d come here tonight? Or had the reminder been for him?
Keep Mia safe. Respect Mia’s limits
.

I didn’t know the answer, but it touched me that they were here.

I pulled down the covers and immediately smiled. The bed smelled like him. Once I realized that, I didn’t hesitate to climb in. I put my head on his pillow and hugged the extra to myself. Though I’d slept alone for most of my life, I hadn’t recently.

Hopefully, a good night’s rest would help me figure out what Jake and Damien wanted my Edwardian self to do. It was important that our adventure conclude satisfyingly. Damien in particular had stretched himself to participate.

The answer will come
, I thought.

I don’t know why, but when I slept I dreamed of my dead brother.

Chapter Thirteen

THE
dream lingered after I woke up. Mike and I were on the subway, the Blue Line he rode to work. We had the car to ourselves, but I sat across from him while he stood, his hand secure on the metal pole. He was smiling at me, swaying and nodding with the motion of the train.

My memory was photographic, but I’d never had a dream this clear. Mike was a manager at a gym and always wore sweats to work. In the dream, his gray hoodie was pristine, his bright cobalt chucks unscuffed. His features were so distinct I could have counted his eyelashes. How young he looked startled me. When he was alive, he’d been eight years older than I was.

I guessed now that he was dead my age was catching up.

The stops we passed flashed behind the car’s windows. I wanted to watch Mike and not the platforms, but I knew which street the fatal aneurysm had seized him at. I yearned for this to last longer, and we were racing too fast toward it.

Couldn’t he have taken the local this morning?

“It’s all right, Mia,” my brother said, still smiling easily.

Tears instantly blurred my eyes. Not wanting them to blind me, I blinked frantically. That was his voice. My brain had recreated it perfectly.

“Stay,” I pleaded. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Five years and change,” he agreed. “But I’ve been around. Have to check in on my little sis, don’t I?”

“Mike—”

“Shh,” he soothed. “I know everything. I love you, kiddo, no matter what. You
could
do me a favor, if you’re feeling nice.”

He always put it that way:
if you’re feeling nice
. He always grinned like he was grinning now, as if he were ten years old and not thirty.

“Anything,” I swore.

His eyes seemed to shine like stars. “Tell Curtis I want him to be happy.”

I snapped awake and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t understand why my brain had chosen that for me to dream about.

Surprisingly, as I lay there, I realized I’d reached a decision about Jake. I couldn’t let him split up our trio even in pretense—no matter if this was what he and Damien were angling for. My goal coming into this was for all of us, but especially the men, to form stronger connections to each other. That couldn’t happen if Jake left. We didn’t have much more vacation. As fun as wandering around the restored estate was, the last thing I wanted was for us to spend the time separately.

Regina helped me dress with her usual kind efficiency. Then I and my resolve went downstairs.

Jake hadn’t left, thank goodness. He and Damien were in the dining room, though not sitting at the table. Instead, they sipped their tea gazing out the tall windows. They had their broad backs to me. I didn’t think they were conversing.

Somewhat to my relief, no servants were in attendance.

“I’ve made up my mind,” I announced.

The men turned around.

“Lady Call,” Jake said with a slight bow.

His formal manner disconcerted me. My mind was multi-tasking, but they were fully back in 1912 again.

“I’ve come to a decision myself,” my husband said. He lifted one hand to prevent me from breaking in. “Forgive me. I see you’re eager to speak. I think you should hear me out before you say anything. Won’t you sit and listen?”

He pulled out a chair for me.

“Aren’t you sitting too?” I asked when he remained standing.

He rubbed his lips in a manner that let me know he was nervous.

“What is it?” I prompted.

“Please don’t take this an insult. I’m doing this because you can’t choose freely when you’re pressured.” He pulled a breath in and let it out. “I’m divorcing you.”

“
No.
” The exclamation burst from me unbidden.

“Yes.” He drew a sheaf of folded legal papers from his coat pocket. When I failed to take them, he flattened the sheets before me on the table. “All you have to do is sign. The addendum regards a trust. Everything I promised you before we married, I’m giving to you right now.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“You may not want it, but you’ll be penniless otherwise.” He straightened his shoulders as if bracing. “I don’t say this often, but I was wrong. I shouldn’t have attempted to . . . ‘nail’ you into my life. True happiness depends upon individual liberty. Moreover—” He cleared his throat and spoke in a lower tone. “You don’t have to live with me anymore, either.”

He’d dropped his Edwardian accent. He meant this as himself. The emotional slap knocked me back in my chair. The only thing that kept me from being outraged was how concerned Damien looked.

“You didn’t force me to move in with you,” I said. “That was my choice. Our choice. Neither Jake nor I are broke in real life. We’re happy to share our lives with you.”

“You were worried about giving up your apartments.”

“Because we’re human. We took the leap anyway. That’s what people do when they want a relationship to work.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Call.”

It took a second, but Damien and I shifted our attention from each other to the new arrival. Regina had just walked into the dining room. Though she wore her maid’s clothes, something in the way she stood told me she wasn’t role-playing.

“Yes?” Damien said.

“Curtis Ewing is in the music room. He says he’s sorry to interrupt your vacation, but it’s important he speak to you.”

“He asked for me?”

I understood Damien’s confusion. Curtis was Jake and my employer.

“Yes, sir, but he said you all might want to hear.”

“Let’s go then,” Jake said, not about to be left behind.

Curtis had been sitting at the baby grand piano, paging through historical sheet music. As we entered, he ran his fingers through his short ginger hair and came to his feet. He always looked well groomed, but—seen among our Edwardian surroundings—his chinos and V-neck sweater jarred. I guess he thought we looked odd too. He hugged me and then stood back.

“Wow,” he said. “You really took this LARPing thing seriously.”

“What’s wrong?” Damien cut in.

Curtis blew out his breath. As I took Damien’s hand, I registered the impatience he was trying to rein in. “I don’t have a graceful way to say this, so I just will. Your father’s wife is dead.”

Damien took a quick step back, as if Curtis had literally pushed him off balance. “Dead? How?”

“She was run over by a van. Your father called your office, who I guess had trouble reaching you. They said they had me down as an emergency contact.”

“Right,” Damien said. “Because Mia and Jake were here. Sorry. I should have—” He waved his hand vaguely.

“Not a problem,” Curtis assured him. “I’m happy to step in. The thing is, Mia told me a bit about your situation with your family. I wasn’t sure what to do after I spoke with him.”

Damien blinked rapidly.

“Sit,” Jake said, easing him down into a chair.

Damien looked up at Curtis from there. “What did my father say?”

“He seemed to think it was important you come to her funeral. He wanted me to say where you were so he could talk to you in person. I told him I felt more comfortable speaking to you myself. Also, I wanted to dig deeper into his story. That was rude of me, I guess, but I am a PI.”

“Janine
is
really dead,” Damien said with a hint of alarm.

“Yes.” Curtis seemed to understand his concern. “Apparently, she jaywalked across the middle of a block and didn’t check traffic. The driver of the van didn’t have a chance to stop. She . . .” Curtis hesitated. “She’d spotted a mailbox. She was sending you a letter. The police collected it. Your father read it to me on the phone. She begged you to bury the hatchet and come visit. She said you and your father had been at odds long enough.”

“Nothing about us being soulmates? Or wanting to renew our supposed eternal bond?”

I took it this was Damien’s stalker’s more usual theme.

“No,” Curtis said. “But it was a weird damn note, all the same. It would have sent up red flags for any psych 101 student.”

“Jesus.” Damien leaned forward to rub his face. Jake and I put our hands on his shoulders from either side. We could feel his brawny frame trembling.

“I’m not an expert,” Curtis said, “but I suspect your father isn’t going to change his tune about what she did to you. He has a lot invested in believing you misconstrued her actions.”

“They were
impossible
to misconstrue. The letters she sent, the emails, the manipulation on and off for the last fucking dozen years—” Damien stopped ranting and sat up straight. “Sorry. I don’t need to argue this with you.”

“It’s unpleasant to be doubted,” Curtis said. “Especially by someone who ought to know you’re truthful.”

Curtis’s clear green eyes shone with compassion. He’d been my stand-in big brother since Mike died, my friend and protector. Curtis’s seal of approval mattered. When I first went to work at his PI firm, Curtis’s respect for Jake made the slyly funny investigator all the more irresistible. Damien hooking up with both of us guaranteed Curtis would treat him well. Now I saw he liked Damien for his own sake, not just because of Jake and me.

“I don’t know what to do,” Damien confessed.

My eyes widened. This was an extraordinary thing for a man like Damien to admit. He ran an international, multi-billion dollar corporation. Every day, he made crucial, far-reaching decisions.

Jake knelt down beside his chair arm. “It’s okay if you want to see your father. He’s free of Janine now, and even if his beliefs about her haven’t changed, it might not be as bad as before. Maybe you want to have him back in your life.”

“I can’t go to the funeral. He’ll talk about her like she’s a saint.”

“So go later. Mia and I will fly out with you.”

Damien glanced at me.

“Absolutely,” I seconded.

“That’s the way this works,” Jake said. “We’re a team. We stick by each other.”

He put his hand on Damien’s knee. The sight of it resting there was as beautiful to me as Michelangelo’s God touching Adam’s finger. Had I been wrong to worry about the strength of their connection? Maybe he and Damien said
I love you
their own way.

Damien stared into space for a long moment. “You’re my family,” he said when his eyes refocused.

“We are,” Jake agreed.

“I mean, I think my father isn’t. Even if he changed his mind about Janine—which, like Curtis says, is doubtful—I’m not sure I care. I’m not convinced he loves me, no matter what he says. He wasn’t really there for me even before he married her, when we lived in the same house. People assume they love their family, that you have to because they’re blood.” Damien shook his head. “I think real love ought to be better than what he showed me.”

“I do too,” Jake said.

Damien looked from Jake to me before pushing up from his chair. “I need to walk. I’m okay. I just need to . . . sort through what to do in my head.”

“Whatever you decide,” Jake said.

I wanted to go with him, but I nodded in agreement.

Damien exited somewhat dazedly through the French doors to the garden.

“You two have way more self-control than me,” Curtis said.

“You can’t crowd a man like him,” Jake said. “He’s too used to being on his own.”

Jake took my hand and squeezed it. Jake could be a lone wolf himself, but he didn’t have as much trouble fitting others into his life. I gnawed the thumbnail of my free hand.