Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 37
“Yes. I have been trying to tell you for days.” She pronounced every word carefully, as if explaining the simplest thing to a child. “Leave me be, stay out of my life, and—for the Lord’s sake—hang up your suit of armor before you impale yourself on your own sword.”
Chapter 16
Harold stared at amber liquid as he swirled it in his glass. He had no idea what it was, but he was sure it wouldn’t burn as much as Ruby’s words had. He wanted nothing more than to swallow his drink in one gulp and then continue through the remaining liquor in the crystal decanter sitting next to him.
Maybe he was the weak man both Ruby and his father thought.
The next rational step was drunkard. Titleless, fortuneless, and a drunkard; what more could his father have predicted for him?
Ruby was right in everything she’d said. He should return to the country. Live the life of an impoverished vicar to a wealthy, titled lord and leave her to find a place where she belonged—to find the man who would become her husband. A man who would give her a home, and children, and financial stability, all things Harold could not guarantee her or any woman.
Still, he continued to assess his glass, weighing his options. The sting of the liquid traveling down his throat would be worth the pain if he could forget—if only for the night—all that had happened, all the heated words she’d thrown at him.
Truly, he had no other viable options.
He hadn’t a clue what kept him from slipping into oblivion for the night, drowning his emotions in the fire water of the devil. He’d much prefer a night in hell to one reliving each word that had passed her delicate pink lips. The touch of Lucifer could not scorch him anymore than Ruby’s insults.
“Bloody hell!” The glass shattered against the hearth.
Before he knew what he was doing, his rage—at himself, at his father, and at her—boiled over. The decanter was the next to fall victim. Shards of glass hit every surface within range. If his blood hadn’t been pumping so fast through his veins, producing a humming noise in his head, Harold would have heard the sound of shattering glass echo through the house, and the resulting curses coming from the front entry.
Instead, Harold picked up a vase and turned it in his hands, studying the painted pattern. The piece was in mint condition with nary a scratch or chip. The thin glass would explode, unlike either the thick tumbler or the etched decanter.
He was sure the resulting shower of glass would satisfy his need for release even more effectively than imbibing large quantities of only the Lord knew what.
Neither would resolve his problems, advance his life, or in any way make him proud of his actions come morning.
“If you do not mind, that was a gift from the lovely Lady Haversham.” The vase was plucked from his hands and replaced on its stand.
He should feel shame for his outburst, and remorse for destroying Brock’s glassware.
But the fact was, he was tired of apologizing for things, of catering to others. Most importantly, he was done allowing others to direct the course of his life.
“What has gotten into you?” Brock asked.
Harold continued to stare at the shattered glass below the hearth. “I do not know what you’re referring to.”
“I’m not a dullard.” Brock stepped around Harold. “You’ve never been a man prone to violence…of any kind, and, trust me, I know you’ve been in several situations where I would not have kept my composure so gracefully.”
“Maybe I’m tired of keeping my composure and acting as if everything is as I’d wish it to be.” His friend could have no idea what all weighed on him. Harold had thought Ruby to be a simple diversion, something to take his mind off his own impending exile to the country. But she was anything but simple. Keeping track of her had turned into a full-time mission, and it was damned hard saving someone from themselves, especially when they didn’t realized they needed saving.
“You wished my fine crystal to be broken all over the floor?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Such a simple question should have a simple answer, yet Harold hadn’t the words to express what he needed.
Brock sat in one of the armchairs facing the open hearth. “Advice?”
“Sure.” Harold shrugged and sank into the other chair. “It cannot be any worse than what I’ve been thinking myself.”
Harold lowered his face into his hands, hoping his friend would share some life-changing wisdom.
“If you want something, do what needs to be done to attain it.”
“And what if what you want does not align with what others demand?”
“Simple.”
“How so?” Harold asked.
“Stop caring what others demand of you and live the life that makes you happy. When we sit here in thirty years, I want to be content with the choices I made and have no regrets about what I’ve accomplished in life.”
“It’s easy when you are born to a title and estate.” He looked his friend square in the face. “For me, a commoner, there is much more to think about.”
“What you say is true. I have never been left without fund or a home when I needed them, but this is about much more than coin and shelter. I could live with neither of those things guaranteed as long as I have Viola and the ability to earn a decent living.”
It was as if Brock knew exactly what troubled him. “I wish it to be that effortless.”
“You know you will always have shelter under my roof, or any estate endowed to me.”
“Yes, but living off another’s wealth and title is not the life any man seeks.”
“I am not saying you will stay in my spare rooms and eat my food forever, but right now you have the opportunity to attain what you desire without the fear of homelessness and an empty stomach. If in the end you decide to move back to Haversham and take over the vicarage, then at least you’ve explored other opportunities.”
His brother’s business venture and the potential for success stuck firm in his mind, only to be invaded by thoughts of Ruby—dressed in simple garb and smiling at him as she completed some domestic task.
How could she be what he wanted? It was likely she was up to no good, and in jeopardy of hurting everyone Harold cared for. She had secrets he could only guess at. And she’d made it very clear how she felt about him.
He should focus on one area of his life that was under his control. If he and William were successful in their venture, then other opportunities would be available to him—such as the potential financial security a wife and family would need.
“I will replace the items I broke,” Harold mumbled.
“See that you do.” Brock smiled.
Harold did not relish hiding things from his best friend, nor from Lady Haversham. The conflict between his loyalty to their friendship and his need to assess and discover Ruby’s motives was not an easy one to rectify.
If all went as planned with William, he would have enough funds and access to rare commodities to replace both the crystal he’d broken and the liquor he’d spilled. Now, he only need get the coin to his brother and arrange the necessary transport.
“Well, I see my job is done here,” Brock said. “I will leave you to sort your priorities while I retire upstairs to take care of my own.”
Harold barely noticed his friend’s departure from the room as he thought of the many plans still needing to be arranged—none of which included the alluring and mysterious Miss Ruby St. Augustin.
Chapter 17
“May I help you, Miss?”
It took a moment for Ruby to gather her thoughts as she stood facing a servant in Drake livery. “Yes, I am here to see…”
The butler stared at her severely as she racked her memory for a name.
She’d failed to ascertain the name of the girl she’d been ordered to pick up and take to Gunter’s for ices. “Ummm…the lady of the house.”
“My lord is not married.”
“Pardon my ineptness, but I fear I have forgotten her name.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her obvious discomfort before putting her out of her misery. “This way, please.” He stood back and allowed her entrance. “Lady Ellington will attend you in the parlor. I assume you know where that is.”
Ellington? That was an odd name for a girl.
Perhaps she’d changed her mind regarding alerting the authorities. It was quite possible Ruby would walk into the room and be apprehended immediately—and once again she’d left the Haversham townhouse without informing anyone of her whereabouts.
“I am familiar with the room, thank you.” It was only a short walk to the parlor where Lady Ellington had taken her and Harold after finding them in the dark, abandoned room farther down the hall. It was much more inviting here than the dim, sheet-covered study.
She still wondered how the girl came to live with Drake. Lady Ellington wore the clothes of a lady, spoke the refined speech of a lady, and most definitely carried herself as if above all others…but there was something off. The butler neither showed Ruby to the parlor nor asked if she’d like tea. Highly inappropriate treatment of a guest in a marquis’ home.
Maybe Ellington was a paid companion, as Ruby herself had been, or a lady’s maid. But a lady’s maid to whom? As far as she knew, the marquis had never married, and no close female relative was listed in Peers of the Realm.
Ruby had come partly for insight—information about the truthfulness of the gossip surrounding the marquis, his scandalous past, and especially about the man himself. Throughout the course of her search, this was the closest she’d come to having access to the entire home of a lord on her list. If she befriended Ellington, her access may very well increase substantially. Then she would quickly be able to cross the marquis off her list, his dubious past included.
The thought of this rakehell being her father scared the daylights out of her. Would it be worse to have no clue who her father was, or to have a man whose reputation at seduction—not to mention his extraordinary reproduction record—knew no bounds?
His deplorable treatment of her mother would make complete sense if he turned out to be the man she sought. But would her heart survive a biological connection to a man who was truly ruthless in his sexual pursuits?
Ruby took in the room she’d spent a few moments in the night before. Gone was the overpowering heat from a blazing fire; no heavy drapes blocked out the clear, mid-morning sunshine. The room had a sinister air about it before, a backdrop for dark dealings and midnight masquerading. Today, the room was almost pleasant.
Completely at odds with the girl who’d just entered the room. Lady Ellington scowled at Ruby, hands on her hips.
“You are late,” she scolded.
Ruby almost laughed at the ridiculousness of Ellington’s fury. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her face held a red tint. She appeared the mother reprimanding her child for innumerable transgressions.
“Now, calm yourself,” Ruby said quietly. “It is barely luncheon and Gunter’s does not open until after the noon-day meal. Why are you in such a hurry?”
Ellington looked over her shoulder before pushing the door closed, sealing off the possibility of a passing servant hearing their conversation. “I am not in a hurry. I only expect you to live up to your word.”
“My word?” It was Ruby’s turn to be angry. “When I give my word I stand by it, but when I am forced into a situation—”
“A situation of your own making.”
“Be that as it may, when I give my word I follow through.” The girl was smart, if a bit irritating and brash. “At this moment, I am obligated to be here, do not confuse that with wanting or needing to be here.”
The smile from their last meeting returned. “You both wanted and needed to be in my house not long ago, did you not?”
How many times would Ruby be made to apologize for her actions? “Are you ready to leave?” She hoped changing the topic would lighten the dour mood in the room.
“I was ready at the agreed-upon time—it was you who was late.”
“Is this how our afternoon will go?” Ruby was unsure she could stand ten minutes, let alone two hours in the girl’s presence.
Her eyes narrowed. “Our afternoon will go exactly as I dictate it will go.”
Ruby had no siblings and was at a loss as to how to deal with a snide girl barely out of the school room. “Ellington, I only meant—”
“You only meant what?” she cut Ruby off. “And do not call me Ellington. I go by Lady Ellie.”
“As I was saying, I only meant our afternoon can be full of nasty unpleasantness, or we can make the best out of the situation we both created.” Ruby emphasized. Yes, Ruby broke into Drake’s house, but Ellington had doomed them both to spending time together.
She’d pondered the girl’s reasons for making her agree to these bizarre outings on her short walk back to the Haversham townhouse, but nothing had struck her as true. As far as Ruby could tell, the girl was provided for financially, she wore fine clothes, fancy ribbons, and quality shoes. She also appeared provided for personally: she was bathed, her hair shone a bright red, and her teeth seemed in good health.
What could she gain from an ex-paid companion without a shilling to her name? While Ellington didn’t know Ruby’s dire circumstances, it would become apparent shortly. Ruby’s spare coin was in such short supply that she would rather not spend it on frivolous things—including ices. She’d agreed to time with Ellington—Ellie—but she had not agreed to spend her scarce money.
It was time to get this over with. “Shall we go or would you like to bicker a bit longer?”
With a huff Ellie headed out of the room, not pausing for the butler to open the front door. She took the steps in one leap, as Ruby had the night before, her dress not hindering her in the slightest.
Stopping abruptly on the walk she looked from side to side and then turned back to Ruby as she lifted her walking dress, taking the steps slowly.
“Where is your coach?” she asked.
“I do not have a coach.”
Ellie’s brow drew down in confusion. “How do you expect us to get to Gunter’s?”
It was Ruby’s turn to laugh, probably the most genuine laugh since her arrival in London. It bubbled deep within her. “I guess we will traverse the streets of London upon foot.”
“You cannot be serious.” The bewilderment in Ellie’s voice almost had her laughing again.
“I most assuredly am serious,” Ruby said. “I do not have the luxury of a carriage at my beck and call.”
“But the other night, I saw you leave Lord Yorkton’s in—”
The girl realized her misstep at the same time Ruby did. “You knew who I was?” Ruby knew her expression mirrored Ellie’s bewildered one from just a moment before. “You little rascal.”
Ellington held her tongue.
“You knew all along who I was. Why did you accuse us of being thieves?” Question after question ran through her mind, but the sidewalk outside the marquis’ residence was not the place. They were already drawing curious stares from members of the ton walking by on their way to Hyde Park or shopping on Bond Street.
If she hadn’t been caught inside Drake’s townhouse, Ruby would guess Ellington had somehow targeted her.
“I merely suggested the possibility—I did not accuse, per se.”
So many things about the girl made her appear so much older, wiser, than her physical appearance suggested. For the first time, Ruby looked at her—truly looked. She took in what she imagined the world saw when they looked at Ellie. She was well cared for, but also had a worldly way about her, as if she’d seen much and lived through double that in her short life. Her emerald eyes, much the same shade as Ruby’s, held a depth and knowledge uncommon in one so young. “How old are you?”
Her question threw the girl off and for once Ellie lacked a witty retort. “Old enough.”
“And how old is ‘old enough’?” Ruby asked. “Say age fourteen, which many believe is ‘old enough’ to leave the school room. Or age sixteen, which many believe is ‘old enough’ to attend your first ball. Or possibly eighteen, which is the preferred age for marriage. There are many, many stages of ‘old enough’ for a young woman. Let us begin our walk. I do not have all day, but there is plenty of time for you to answer my question, and perhaps time enough for you to ask a few of your own.”
Ellington walked down the street toward Gunter’s, leaving Ruby behind. “I have no need to answer your questions…and certainly no interest in learning anything about you,” she called over her shoulder. “Do not dawdle.”
Ruby sighed and started in step after her. If Ellie insisted on walking five steps ahead of her the whole way, at least it would give her time to think, something that was seriously lacking in her life of late. Every time she turned around either Vi or Harold was close, ready to engage her in conversation or needless banter.
The view of Ellie was also interesting. She walked with a confident swagger, her step sure and her head high. The self-assurance bred only into a person born to privilege. A sureness of step that Ruby envied.
This girl knew her place in life.
Ellie was assured of her future role in society.
She wished she knew more about the girl—and why she’d targeted Ruby. Which, Ruby had no doubt Ellie had done. Presented with the right situation, the girl had coerced Ruby into agreeing to a few outings. It could be she was lonely, or in need of a suitable chaperone. If so, there were any number of matronly woman who’d have taken on the responsibility of introducing her to society, if only the marquis would have called upon them.
Sadly, Ruby sat precariously on the very edge of polite society, the illegitimate daughter of an impoverished baron and his unfaithful wife. The truth had become so embedded in her daily life that she wondered if others read her secrets, knew her mother’s deceit. The confidence evident in Ellie would never be Ruby’s.
As they neared the West End, the street traffic became heavy and Ruby sped her pace to keep an eye on Ellie. The girl walked the streets like she’d been raised running amuck. She occasionally nodded to passing ladies and gentlemen, obviously acquainted with London’s elite.
