Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 26
No man, married or not, would leave record of their nefarious past. It was more likely her father had not spared her, or her mother, a second thought after throwing his pregnant mistress from his townhouse in the middle of the night with no coat and no means to get home.
Ruby was anything but a fool, but she found herself continuing to search regardless. She didn’t need a signed confession—she just needed that letter opener.
Picks in hand, she knelt before the locked drawer and eyed the keyhole, blowing a wayward strand of hair that had fallen across her face. She’d been unsuccessful more often than not when attempting to open locked drawers. But luck may have been on her side this evening. She’d entered the ball with little fuss, shortly after the host and hostess had quit the receiving line. It was surprising how similar the layout of most London townhouses were. Ruby had navigated the halls of the second floor and found the room she sought fairly quickly, encountering not a soul.
The pins slipped into the lock and her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick her lips as she concentrated on moving them exactly right to click the lock over. She fought to keep her hands steady when sweat broke out across her forehead. She was running out of time.
Ruby applied a bit too much pressure and the pin snapped, falling uselessly into the locked drawer. “Damn you to hell, Mother!” she cursed and sat back, wiping her slick brow.
She’d always viewed herself as a sensible girl, a dutiful daughter, and an honest friend. She could only imagine the horror on Vi’s face if she saw her now. A common thief. A midnight prowler. A defiler of privacy.
Although, it could not be helped.
She sought answers and at the moment all she had was an endless list of questions.
Gaining her feet once more, she bundled her kit and slipped it back into her pocket. She turned her attention to the long table against the wall behind the desk. Leaning over, she ran her hand along the underside of the ornately carved piece, feeling for hidden compartments or—if her luck returned—a forgotten folder of papers.
“Sherry, Miss Ruby?” an oddly familiar voice asked behind her.
Harold Jakeston watched as she stood. Her back straightened and her body tensed.
She slowly turned in his direction, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping.
He wanted to laugh, but feared startling her any more than he already had.
Even though she’d matured, Miss Ruby St. Augustin still resembled the dirty ragamuffin who’d tagged along after Brock and him in their youth. Her eyes had always been filled with mischief and adventure, as they were now. The green of her irises fairly glowed in the low-lit room. Her hair no longer hung limply around her shoulders, but was caught up in a fashionable pile atop her head. She’d always been tall; now she towered close to his six-foot height.
His gaze traveled back to hers. “Can I offer you a sherry?” he asked again, holding his glass out to her as he admired the delicate tilt of her slender neck.
“Mr. Jakeston…I…well.”
He relaxed. “It is a simple question.” He paused, bringing the glass to his own lips for a sip. “Either you would enjoy a glass of sherry or you would not.”
When she only stared without a word, Harold continued, “Do you not know what you want?” He was badgering her. She most definitely was not doing the same as he, hiding from the masses for a few minutes of quiet after an arduous evening. Her cursing and rifling through Lord Yorkton’s desk clearly showed she was looking for something—and hadn’t located it. But what precisely did she seek?
“Pardon my rudeness, Mr. Jakeston. No, I do not wish for a glass, but thank you ever so much for the offer.” She rubbed her hands down the front of her evening gown. “You startled me. I thought I was alone.” Her glance darted around the room, as if she expected someone else to emerge from the shadows.
Harold chuckled. “I gathered that much. Would you like to join me by the fire?” he asked. Not waiting for her response, he sank into the overstuffed chair he’d vacated moments before. The room was modernly appointed and satisfied Harold’s need for space. He’d expected a few minutes to decompress from the many people he’d met throughout the evening, but found he was not opposed to her interruption.
While highly improper of him, he sought to lure her into sitting—and hopefully an explanation about her presence in Lord Yorkton’s private study.
Her reluctant footsteps could be heard as she crossed the room, tentatively taking the seat next to him. While the chairs faced the fire, they also angled slightly toward each other. He took in her uplifted chin, perfectly coiffed hair, and the emeralds that hung elegantly around her neck and from her ears. He’d wager a pretty penny they matched the shade of her eyes perfectly—eyes that currently stared intently into the fire as she perched on the edge of her chair.
After several moments of silence, he asked, “Are you enjoying your evening? I was not aware you were in town.”
“Why would you know if I were in town?” She never turned away from the fire.
“I suspect that Lady Vi, I mean Lady Haversham—the name is still so new to me—would be bursting at the seams with your arrival.”
She finally looked at him. “When have you seen Vi?”
“Every morning, the noon-time repast.” He paused to take a large swallow from his glass. “And then on the carriage ride here. I am staying at the Haversham townhouse after all, being a poor vicar-to-be.”
Everything about the woman was suspicious, from her muddled search to her anxious attitude. If the light was exactly right, he could most likely see her skin glow with perspiration.
Her back stiffened. “But I have not…” Her words trailed off. “Mr. Jakeston, I can—”
“Please, it’s not as if we don’t know each other. It’s just Harold.” He chuckled at her obvious discomfort. “Mr. Jakeston, or rather Vicar Jakeston, is my father—or either of my older brothers.”
She nodded but remained silent, her fingers clasped tightly in her lap as she wrung the folds of her gown.
“May I ask you a question, Ruby? It is agreeable that I also drop formalities?”
“Of course.”
He eyed her suspiciously. He remembered her as a boisterous child, precocious to the extreme. Their short acquaintance the year before had also shown Ruby to be articulate, jovial, and open. “What were you doing rummaging through Lord Yorkton’s desk?”
Her expression remained devoid of all emotion, betraying nothing.
“Do you prefer I guess? I’ve always prided myself on my reasoning abilities.” He tapped his fingers against the glass in his hand. “Let me think… What could a lady of the ton possibly be doing ransacking—”
“I most certainly was not ransacking Lord Yorkton’s study,” she exclaimed.
“Well, well, well, the lady can speak after all,” he chuckled. “Allow me to rephrase my comment. What could a lady of the ton possibly be doing gently searching—is that better?—through the personal desk of a lord, while acting as a guest in his home?” He smiled and raised a brow in her direction, hoping she’d offer some bit of insight.
True to form, she held her tongue.
“Oh, I have it!” He pointed his finger skyward. “You are strapped for funds and are looking to borrow a bit from our kind host. Maybe a bauble or such that not a soul would miss.”
“I would never—”
“No? Let me try again. You recently ended a tryst with our generous host and forgot a trinket in his study.” Perhaps his outlandish insinuations could pry some truth from her.
“Now, that is just ludicrous!”
“But not as farfetched as most would assume,” he said. “But again, I must be wrong. Possibly does it have something to do with your mother?”
Ruby fully turned his way and reached for his hand, a concerned expression upon her face. “Please tell me you aren’t acquainted with my mother. She mustn’t know what you saw this evening.” Clearly believing she’d said too much, she fell back against the brocade chair in silence.
Harold refilled his glass from the bottle on the table next to him. “Are you sure you do not want any?” he asked without looking at her.
Silence greeted his question.
He was curious, yet feared spooking her before he ascertained her true motive for rifling through Lord Yorkton’s things. He shuddered at the consequences if she’d been found by anyone other than himself—not only the potential harm she’d have faced, but also the tarnish that would transfer to Lady Haversham due to their friendship.
“Miss Ruby, exactly how are you acquainted with Lord Yorkton?”
Her response was low, barely audible—like the whispering of lovers in the night. “I saw him two evenings ago, and again tonight when I arrived.”
“And do you know anything about the man?” he prodded.
“Not overly much.”
“He is not a kind, nor a forgiving man.”
“I did not plan to further our acquaintance this night.”
“This night?” Her answers only piqued his interest and unease. The evening was turning more intriguing by the second, a nice reprieve from the pressures of his own dilemmas.
“I really must be going.”
He wanted nothing less than for her to go. But he also knew the dangers of someone stumbling upon them alone together. “That would be wise. May I escort you to the ballroom?”
Ruby stood, smoothing the creases she’d wrung into her dress. “No, thank you. That will raise suspicion, as well.” She stared at him as if taking stock. “Can I trust you will not speak a word of this to anyone?”
He was unsure exactly who he was to speak a word to, but at that precise moment he’d promise her anything…and everything, if only she’d stay. “Not a word shall cross my lips.”
“Thank you,” she said. “…Harold.”
Harold adored the sound of his name on her lips.
She stood to leave, her dress rustling as she moved toward the door.
Making her escape.
Her captivating spell over him broke, freeing them both.
“Ruby,” he called from his seat.
“Yes?” From her muffled tone he knew she still faced away from him, just as he faced away from her.
“You look absolutely stunning this evening.” He’d intended to say so many things: encourage her to think of Lady Haversham when putting herself in less-than-savory positions, or to curb her cursing while about town. Instead, he’d blurted the exact thing he’d been thinking since she entered the room. “Please be careful in your future endeavors.”
He heard the door open on well-oiled hinges and the click of it closing.
“Until we meet again, my sweet,” he mumbled to the empty room and downed the rest of his drink.
Chapter 2
What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking. At least, not clearly since she’d found her mother’s journal. She’d only sought to find answers—but hadn’t thought about the cost.
And by the night’s end, the cost may well outweigh the reward.
The crackle of the fire in the room she’d fled was the only sound in the abandoned hall, seeping under the door and echoing around her. Satin-covered feet glided toward the grand staircase as she made her way back to the crowded ballroom below. As she descended, the laughter and music from the festivities below greeted her.
She needed to be more careful in her search, more vigilant in her movements, and more alert to her surroundings.
What if she’d been found by the lord of the house or one of his servants? She could have claimed she’d been lost or feigned confusion and made her way hastily downstairs. Or would she have the nerve to ask Lord Yorkton the question that tore at her?
Had he fathered a child, out of wedlock, with Mrs. Pearl St. Augustin?
The question sounded absurd. She could only imagine how insane the words would be spoken aloud; not only to Lord Yorkton, but to every man on her growing list of potential fathers.
Father—the term clawed at her. All of her preconceived notions about the word were null and void. She’d called a most loving, nurturing man ‘father’ for her whole thirty-two years. He’d attended her play tea parties as a toddler, bought her fetching muslin dresses as a child, and taught her to ride a horse in her youth. The day they’d put him in the ground had been surreal. She remembered the long walk to the family burial plot at the back of their property, following the carriage, her father’s casket inside. No young girl, still in the schoolroom, should have to experience the loss of a parent.
She’d reached out numerous times that day for her mother’s hand—she did not know if she sought to receive comfort or to give it—but her mother always walked just out of her reach. Her mind’s eye saw her mother so clearly as she’d appeared that day, and the many days that followed. She hadn’t shed a single tear. Ruby never heard her cry herself to sleep as she herself had done for weeks after his death; she’d never had that faraway look most had when they tried to relive fond memories.
Her mother’s lack of grief hadn’t alarmed her then. Pearl St. Augustin had always been distant and aloof. It was only now that Ruby realized her mother had been in a perpetual state of grief since before Ruby had been born.
Had her father known of her mother’s deception? If so, he’d sought to make up for her mother’s coldness with his ever-present attention and love. He was a man above all men, not seeking to punish the child for the sins of her mother. Part of Ruby yearned to also forgive Pearl, to erase the years of hurt and loneliness and face the future united together, whatever the outcome.
She wiped away the wayward tear that fled down her face. Now wasn’t the time—truly, she wasn’t sure the time to grieve the loss of the man who’d raised her, for a second time, would ever come.
“Damnation, Mother!” Ruby cursed under her breath as she moved through the milling people toward the veranda, avoiding eye contact. Now was not the time, she scolded herself. She’d let Lady Haversham’s coachman know she’d only be thirty minutes and to keep the carriage in the drive. With the time it had taken her to slip into the house and then upstairs unnoticed, an hour had passed more quickly than she’d thought possible.
As she moved through the crowd, nodding to the few people who’d made her acquaintance in her short time about town, she heard the ramblings of guests.
Her tall stature afforded her a view of the crowd, enabling her to avoid any contact with her mother or her close circle. She could only imagine the dressing down she’d receive if she were caught in London, directly disobeying her mother’s wish that she remain in the country due to their limited funds.
It had been advantageous for her that her nearest and dearest friend, Lady Viola Haversham, happened to be departing for London the very same day Ruby had arrived at her estate, a dark secret on the tip of her tongue. She’d been ready to confess all to Vi, but held back when she saw the staff hurriedly packing to depart for London. Ruby had only contemplated her next move for a moment. She needed to be in London if she hoped to gain answers.
Ruby was thankful for Vi’s generosity, even though her friend made it very clear that she had her own selfish reasons for wanting Ruby close. She was carrying her first child, and was frightened of being alone. While Ruby knew nothing of babies and childbirth, she looked forward to sharing this special time with her best friend.
With Vi’s increasing condition, Ruby’s excuse to accompany her to London—against her mother’s wishes—meant the opportunity to start the search for her true father as well. She hadn’t had much to go on when she first arrived, with only a luggage trunk and her mother’s old, faded journal. She’d obtained a copy of Peers of the Realm from a shop on Bond Street, while Vi shopped for a new pocket square for her husband. Ruby had worked quickly, making her list of all the unmarried lords of a certain age. After eliminating those who had not been in London during the time in question, and adding to those the homes she had already searched, she found her list had dwindled to a mere six names.
At least Ruby’s mother’s motivations for keeping her isolated and out of the public eye now made sense. Mrs. St. Augustin could not take the chance of her daughter—and therefore herself—being linked to a man who was not her late husband.
Looking around, Ruby saw one gentleman whose stature mirrored her own willowy form; another with her exact shade of green eyes; yet another whose hair color and complexion matched her own dark features.
For what seemed like the millionth time, doubt, uncertainty, and hopelessness filled her. Doubt that she’d never learn who she truly was, where she belonged, where her place in this world lay. Uncertainty whether or not she even wanted to know the truth; if the man who’d fathered her wanted anything to do with her; if she would like where her search led her. And hopelessness that she was in any way qualified to be searching at all.
“Ruby?”
She stopped several feet from the open veranda doors—and her freedom from the crowded house.
Pasting a smile on her face that she hoped would reach her eyes, she turned. “Vi,” she said. “I had no idea you would be in attendance tonight, or I would have accompanied you and Lord Haversham.”
Vi eyed her skeptically. “I am sure I mentioned it earlier today during my dress fitting.”
It hadn’t been that many months ago that Ruby had eyed Vi in much the same suspicious manner. “I don’t believe so, but I’m glad to see at least one person I know.” Ruby grasped Vi in a tight hug to smother the questions her friend was dying to ask. Questions for which she had no answers.
After a moment, Vi returned her hug and then held Ruby at arm’s length. Her friend’s crystal blue eyes took her in from head to toe and back again. “You look splendid this evening. Did Sarah fix your hair?”
Ruby smiled. She knew she looked exquisite in the satin dress, her hair swept high atop her head. “No. I decided at the last second to come out tonight.” Ruby still grasped Vi’s hands. “I did not seek to inconvenience Sarah or the other household staff.”
