Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 11
“I see you are awake,” Harold said.
Brock moved his head in the direction of Harold’s voice. His friend lounged against the door frame to Brock’s dressing room.
“What in the blazes happened last night?” Brock asked.
“No one knows for certain, but Cook found you asleep on the front stoop when she left for the market before dawn.” Harold raised an eyebrow. “I had hoped you could tell us what happened.”
“I arrived back from Foldger’s Foals and decided to have a drink at White’s.” A bottle or two was more like it.
“And . . . ?”
“I imbibed quite a large quantity of scotch—”
“I gathered that from the smell of you.”
“Rodney showed up and we argued—”
“Naturally,” Harold interrupted again. “Kindly skip to the part about sleeping on the front stoop.”
“I left White’s . . . but that is the last I remember.” Brock rubbed his aching forehead and rose to sit. “How did I get to my chambers?”
“Your valet and I carried you, of course.”
“Why am I still wearing my boots?” Brock threw his legs over the side of the bed and placed his booted feet on the floor.
“We are not that good of friends.” Harold laughed. “Now get up. Your bath is ready.”
In the corner farthest from Harold stood Brock’s copper bathing tub, filled to the brim with steaming water. “You will not remove my boots, but drawing my bath is within our friendship?” It was Brock’s turn to raise a brow. He stood and removed his evening coat.
“Ha! If it had been up to me, I would have doused you where you slept. Are you ready to tell me what transpired that had you rushing to Foldger’s Foals yesterday and then returning only to drink yourself into oblivion?”
“She duped me.”
“Who duped you?” Harold moved from the doorway to sit on the bench at the end of Brock’s bed.
Brock pulled his shirt over his head and started next on removing his boots and pants. “Lady Viola Oberbrook,” he said as he leaned over to untie his laces and simultaneously hide his heated face.
“Lady Viola duped many people, but that is behind you. You must forget about her and move on with your life. Dwelling on her and her actions will not bring back your father or the twins.”
Brock straightened and slid his feet from his boots. “No—the woman is still engaging in foolish behavior. She is simply doing it now under the name of Lady Posey Hale.”
“You jest,” Harold said in disbelief.
“I assure you, I am quite certain they are one and the same person.” Brock pushed his pants down over his hips and let them drop to the floor.
“Bloody hell.” Harold averted his gaze a second too late.
“Bloody hell is correct. As I pilfered your bottle of Madeira at the Garnerdale’s ball, I overheard Lord Liperton speaking with Mrs. St. Augustin and Lady Darlingiver.” Brock paused and looked at Harold as he stepped into his tub. “You are aware that Liperton and Lady Darlingiver have been romantically linked for several years?”
“On the contrary, I was unaware of this.” Harold kept his eyes averted.
“Indeed they are. She called him Lippy! Can you imagine?”
“You are straying from the topic. What sent you hell-bent toward Hampshire and then into your cups, culminating in you forgetting how to open a door?”
“I am getting there!” Brock submerged himself in the steaming water. “Do quiet down, my head feels as if a trumpet master has been playing all night long.”
“And whose fault is that?” Harold asked, again training his gaze on his friend. “You know I have little sympathy for—”
“I was leaving Lord Garnerdale’s study,” Brock continued, cutting him off, “with a bottle of Madeira under one arm and scotch under the other, when I heard hurried footsteps and then hushed conversation in the hall. Liperton had not fled the house as I’d thought, but merely hidden, proving the coward I believed him to be.”
Harold waved his hand and Brock continued.
“As it should happen our dear playmate, Miss Ruby, has been the companion to one Lady Viola Oberbrook, daughter of the Duke of Liperton these last seven years at Foldger’s Hall. Did I mention that Foldger’s Hall abuts to Foldger’s Foals?” Brock asked.
“Just as your estate borders mine?” Harold crossed his arms over his chest.
“Are you comparing that woman’s lies and deceit to my attempts to rescue you from your father’s clutches?” Brock glared at his friend as he rubbed a sponge thick with suds over his chest.
“Not in the least. I do find it ironic, however. So tell me, did you rush to Hampshire and put Lady Viola in her place? Did you shout at her? Did she apologize for leading your brothers on a merry goose chase?”
Brock wished any of those things had occurred. “She was not there,” he mumbled, in hopes Harold wouldn’t jump on the opportunity to question his decision to seek her out.
“Not there, you say? And naturally you rush back to London to drink so much you cannot make it through your front door. I understand now.”
His friend’s judgmental tone grated on Brock’s nerves.
“What do you plan to do now?” Harold stood and made his way back to the door. “Let us hope that no one saw the aftermath of your heavy drinking. I do not care how much you have in your coffers, marrying a drunkard is not the path most respectable fathers would willingly send their daughters down.”
“Point taken.”
“I will await you downstairs in the breakfast room.” Harold closed the door quietly behind him.
As annoying as Brock might find it at the moment, his friend was correct: What was his plan? He only wished he knew. He’d acted out of anger and hurt when he’d rushed to the country, and then again at White’s. If that affected Harold’s chances of gaining a respectable bride, Brock would not forgive himself.
Regardless, he could not let Lady Viola get away with what she’d done.
Brock massaged the sandalwood-scented sponge up his arm and over his shoulder as he contemplated his next move. A part of him wanted to return to his estate and put his thoughts of finding a wife and seeking retribution for his family behind him. So many people he’d encountered since his return had thought his brothers’ deaths were behind him.
If Harold had the slightest idea how this weighed on him, his friend would likely bash him over the head and keep him locked down at his estate until sensible thought returned.
The key to the return of his sanity lay in the acknowledgement of fault by only one person: Lady Viola Oberbrook.
For the first time since his return, Brock thanked the Lord above that he hadn’t come face to face with Lady Viola.
The element of surprise was still in his favor.
Chapter 13
The life of an idle lady of the ton, ensconced at her country estate, grated on Viola’s nerves. More than once, she found herself longing to throw her needlepoint at the wall.
The walls! Yet another thing she could not stomach. Who in their right sensibilities selected salmon for the color of their walls? The sitting room desperately needed renovation, but she’d spent so many years at Foldger’s Foals that she had not bothered with her father’s outdated estate.
With time on her hands, she found herself falling into previously enjoyed pastimes. The desire to renovate rooms, redress her father’s staff, and modernize Ruby’s wardrobe were strong. But that was not her any longer. She had changed. She was no longer the debutante of the season, to be doted upon by all things breathing . . . No, she was the aging daughter of a duke.
She sighed.
“Whatever is the problem now, Vi?” Ruby asked from her seat on the far side of the table where they had laid their thread colors.
“If I must look at these walls for one more second, I fear my stomach will relieve itself of the delicious sandwiches we had at morning tea.”
“Would you prefer we move outside?”
“Outside, my chambers, the kitchen . . . They are all the same.” Vi threw her needlework to the table and slumped into the sofa.
“Sit up straight. You will wrinkle your dress, and you know how Sarah abhors ironing them out.”
“Is it really vital that I sit up straight?” Vi took her bad mood out on her friend. “To be honest, I may start ironing my own wardrobe. Goodness, I do have the time.” She’d been in a foul mood for days now, but she knew punishing Ruby with her disagreeableness would not help.
Ruby ignored Vi’s outburst and continued with her needlework.
“I am sorry. I do not know what has come over me these last few days,” Vi said.
“Do you think I do not know what your problem is?” Ruby finally set her work aside and met Vi’s gaze. “Are you so delusional or oblivious that you cannot see?” Before she could speak, Ruby continued, “You are no longer the type of female to sit idly by and let the days pass. You refuse to go to London as your father requests, but have nothing to occupy your time here.”
To her chagrin, Vi recognized that everything Ruby said was true.
“And you refuse to release Connor of his duties, so the few things to attend to with the foals, he is handling. If you want my opinion—”
“I’m not sure I do,” Viola said. She had not seen Ruby this agitated, ever.
“Oh, but you will have it.” Ruby stood from where she perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands on her hips. “You need to get your arse out of this house. You have never been one to give up. Why now?”
“I have tried—”
“Truly? Are you sure you’ve put one-hundred percent into making Foldger’s Foals successful?”
Vi nodded. “I have spent countless nights thinking of all our options.”
“That is my point! You have spent time thinking about the problems, but what have you actually done?”
Viola didn’t understand the passion flowing from her friend. Ruby would have a place here with her regardless of the state of Vi’s business.
“Maybe it is time you journey to London—”
“I am in no need of a husband,” Viola fairly shouted.
Ruby leaned over the table, her finger jabbing the air in front of Vi. “Why are you so petrified of attracting a husband? There are more than marriage-seeking men out there. There are business men. Stop and think about the benefits of a trip to town.”
If Vi was of the opposite sex, she would have let forth an explicit phrase—or two. Ruby was right. She hadn’t thought of a trip to London to further her business. “While I see your point, how could I sneak into London without alerting my father?”
“Now, that is something you should be thinking about.” Ruby regained her seat and her composure, picked up her needlepoint, and returned to her work.
How was it possible for the woman to be up in arms one minute and quietly working the next? How she envied her friend’s acceptance of her lot in life.
“Come in,” Ruby called without lifting her head.
Viola hadn’t heard the tap on the door.
“My lady.” Sarah entered the room. “This came in the post today and Mr. Cale requested I bring it to you posthaste.”
“Thank you.” Vi took the missive. Lord help her if it was another letter from her father imploring her to come to London.
“Who is it from?” Ruby didn’t bother looking up.
Viola turned the letter over in her hands. “It is from a London address I do not recognize.” Hanover Square. . . She racked her brain for an acquaintance or old friend who lived in that area of town, but came up with none.
“Well, open it!” Ruby set her work aside and stared at Vi expectantly.
“It is not every day we receive unsolicited letters from London. Maybe it is a new client.”
The front of the envelope had been addressed to Lady Posey Hale. Her stomach sank, and she feared her luncheon would indeed make another appearance.
“Why the look of doom and gloom?”
“It is from Lord Haversham, addressed to Lady Posey Hale.”
“I knew we hadn’t seen the last of Brock. He was rather smitten with you.”
Vi looked up, wishing she could forget about the letter. “Smitten? What do you know of smitten?”
“Not much as it applies to myself, but I did grow up with Brock and his siblings—” Ruby managed to look contrite when Vi winced at the mention of Cody and Winston. “I do apologize, but I will not coat the situation in sugar to make it more agreeable to you.”
Vi waved her hand, signaling Ruby to continue.
“I do despise it when you wave your hand at me like that.”
She waved her hand in Ruby’s direction again defiantly.
Ruby huffed but continued, “I was going to say that I grew up with Brock, and I remember a time he was smitten with our dairy maid. He took to showing up at our estate and following her about. My mother finally had to send him on his way.”
Vi couldn’t refute the similarities in the situations. Brock—when had she started thinking about him as Brock and not Lord Haversham?—had arrived early to gather his foals. He’d also followed her out to the pasture and watched her for Lord knew how long. Now, a letter from him. A part of her wanted to squeal like a girl straight out of the schoolroom, but the practical woman knew the letter could hold nothing but bad tidings and disappointment.
Ruby cleared her throat and stared. “Open it.”
“Does it matter what the letter holds? All of my dealings with the man have been a ruse, and when he finds out he will hate me more than he already must.”
Her dear friend moved to sit beside her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I think it matters greatly to you what this letter holds. Give it to me, and I shall read it.” Ruby plucked the letter from Vi’s hands and ripped the envelope open.
Vi’s hopes of shredding the letter, as if she’d never received it, were dashed as Ruby smoothed the parchment out in front of her.
She watched closely as Ruby’s eyes scrunched in confusion, widened in surprise and then a smile spread across her face. “I must read this to you.” Delight infused her tone.
“Are you sure it is something I want to hear?”
“Most assuredly, Vi.”
Viola wasn’t so sure, but was hesitant to say no. “Very well.” She rubbed her hands down her olive-colored dress nervously. Why did she make to rub her hands clean every time she had a bout of anxiety?
Ruby cleared her throat and spoke in a deep voice. “Lady Posey Hale--”
“Do stop that!”
“Oh, all right. You are quite stiff when your deceit is coming to a head.” Ruby paused and started to read again, “I have come into contact with several men seeking to expand their stables. Your attendance in London is requested to meet with said gentlemen. Please send word of your arrival date.” Ruby re-folded the letter and replaced it in its envelope.
“That is all?” Vi asked and sat back in her seat. When had she moved to perch on the edge of the sofa? If Ruby had read one more sentence, Vi might have ended up on the floor.
“Did you expect more?” Ruby raised an eyebrow.
“You know exactly what I expect!” The woman was insufferable.
“I am unsure what more you want. That is all he wrote.”
“Do not play coy with me. Lest you forget, I perfected the art of coy long ago. How did Bro—Lord Haversham, sign the letter?” Part of her wondered why she cared. The other part knew it would speak volumes.
Ruby took her time extricating the letter from the envelope once more and smoothed it out. “Well, that is odd. He signed it, ‘Sincerely Yours, B’.”
Viola’s eyes widened.
“I am unsure how to chasten you. Do you prefer Lady Viola or Posey? You do have feelings for him.” Ruby grasped Vi’s hand, crumpling the letter as their fingers intertwined. “Oh, when do you plan to leave?”
“I will do no such thing . . . I cannot do such a thing!”
“But this is exactly that thing we have been talking about. A way to save Foldger’s Foals.”
“The cost would be too great.”
“What other choice do we have? If you plan to keep Foldger’s Foals open and keep your dependent’s funded, you must go.”
Viola stood. She needed to move to release the pent-up agitation that threatened to cripple her. When she disengaged her hands from Ruby’s fingers, Brock’s letter stuck between her own. It was true: She needed to keep her business afloat. She had many people depending on her. Then again, she never anticipated returning to London to face the people who had sent her fleeing in her youth. The ton didn’t believe people could change, as she had. Could she sneak into London, attend the meeting, and leave just as silently? Would she know the gentlemen? There were too many risks involved.
She paced from the sofa to the fireplace and back again before another knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Vi called.
Connor strolled into the room and bowed slightly to Vi and then Ruby. “Ladies. I trust your day is going well.”
His tone irked Vi. He sounded almost jovial as she and Ruby debated the fate of Foldger’s Foals.
“I have finished the chores on the ranch. Is there anything else you require of me?” Connor asked.
An idea sparked in her mind. Why had she not thought of it before? “As a matter of fact, I do have another assignment for you.”
“Anything, my lady.”
“I will need you to travel to London and meet with a few potential clients.”
“Vi—” Ruby started.
“Of course. I have been eager to return to London and check on Alexander at his new post.”
Vi avoided eye contact with Ruby, her disapproval evident from her heavy breathing. “I will need you to leave immediately. Is that a problem?”
“No. I will go prepare.” Connor executed another small bow to both women and turned to leave the room.
“Connor?” Vi stopped him and he turned back to face her. “I will need you to drop off an envelope for me while in town.”
