Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 39
“I do not think anyone’s future can be guaranteed,” she said. “And how dull would that be, if it were?”
“Oh, nothing with either of us will ever be dull. We could leave now, travel to the country—maybe toward Dover—and settle in a small cottage of our own.” The excitement in his voice sent a thrill through her as well.
When had they moved from discussing their separate lives, to imagining a future together? Fighting herself every step of the way, Ruby had to admit the picture he painted sounded heavenly. In Dover, it wouldn’t matter that she was a bastard, that her mother had betrayed the man she’d adored, or that anyone could find out about any of it.
“We could raise sheep or learn to farm.”
“Oh, you could handle a flock of sheep?” She glanced at him in surprise. “And crops?”
“Of course. We can travel to London a few times a year to hock our wares. Visit with Brock and Lady Haversham, and then return to the children.”
“You do not think the children would also like to visit with the Haversham offspring?” Again, they built a life—imaginary as it was—together.
“Ah, very true.” He looked down at her then, his eyes filled with mischief. “But I would enjoy time alone with my wife, as well.”
Her cheeks warmed at his heated gaze, and she quickly looked away. “Fantasy is fine for children,” she said, already regretting the words. “We are adults, with adult responsibilities. Adult problems. Plus, we have arrived home. I’m sorry, Harold, but this is the only house we will share.”
“As you wish.” He still held her arm firmly as they climbed the steps to the house and the butler swung the door open.
They entered the main foyer and stopped, facing each other. She didn’t know what to say, still under the spell of their conversation.
“Mr. Jakeston, Lord Haversham awaits you in his study.”
“Thank you.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips and whispered, “I do hope your wishes change at some point. Have a wonderful afternoon.”
He stood straight, bowed, and headed to the study.
Meanwhile, Ruby was left open-mouthed, imagining a whole new future—if only she could let go of the past.
“Miss?” a servant asked at her side.
“Oh, yes?”
“Lady Haversham requests your attendance in her bedchamber.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I do believe she is being fitted for new gowns.”
Ruby pushed the thought of what could be from her mind and focused on the here and now.
Chapter 19
Harold watched her across the table, pushing her food from one side of her plate to the other, refusing to make eye contact with him. Perhaps she was preoccupied with her own thoughts. Perhaps, certain thoughts he’d put in her head only hours before.
He took full advantage of the view. This was the first meal they’d all shared together since Ruby and Lady Haversham had arrived in London.
Of course, Lord and Lady Haversham were absorbed in their own conversation, leaving Harold and Ruby to their own devices. He’d tried to start a conversation several times, about the weather or what traveling play group was in town currently, but after a few nods and a word here or there the conversation always went stale. Try as he might, they could not return to their easy conversation from that night on the pond, or during their musings on the way home this very day. Her distance combined with her actions of late made it impossible to trust her, much as he had tried.
Brock laughed explosively, bringing both their attention to the couple.
“What has you in such a jovial mood?” Harold asked, grateful for the distraction.
“Oh, I was just telling Vi what we discovered in the book at White’s today.”
Harold chuckled, unable to stop himself. He’d admit that it might not be morally acceptable, but he was hardly one to shy from a wager—or cast a stone when others showed the same inclination.
“Lord Grafton truly wagered his entire stables on the outcome of Lord and Lady Sully’s name selection for their firstborn?” Vi asked, her hand covering her mouth to muffle her laughter.
“Of course he did!” Brock continued. “The winner stands to gain a tidy sum. Lord Sully loves horses and has actively sought to purchase Lord Grafton’s broodmare. Harold, tell them the name!”
“Pompous Buckton.” Harold had to admit the name was comical, yet he hoped the child was not cursed with it. “Yes, it is likely that the next Earl of Sully will be christened with the name Pompous.”
The whole table erupted, including Ruby. The look upon her face when she laughed was like none he’d even seen. In her eyes he saw joy, love, passion… If only she would allow him to make her laugh more often.
Brock was the first to get himself under control. “Not all the wagers are as entertaining, but occasionally it amuses me to have a look. I did win a tidy sum on one myself.” He winked at Harold.
Truth be told, Harold’s pockets had filled about the same time.
“And what wager was that?” Ruby joined the conversation. “Tell me it had to do with something worthwhile.”
“Oh, yes. In fact it was directly related to the most worthwhile person currently in my life.” He looked to his wife, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.
“You stop it right now, Brock.” Lady Haversham pulled her hand back. “We have guests.”
Looking affronted, Brock asked, “Guests?” He looked around dramatically. “Where?”
“You know exactly who I am talking about.”
No matter how often Harold found himself in his dear friends’ company, he never tired of their easy banter. He longed one day to have something similar, if not as grand.
“These two? If the pair are guests, they have most positively overstayed their welcome,” Brock continued to joke.
Laughter again floated through the room.
“And what was this wager that left us out of debtor prison about?” Vi inquired.
“It involved the most stubborn and headstrong woman I’ve had the good fortune to meet.”
“Truly?” Ruby joined the conversation again.
“For certain. Someone, who will remain nameless, thought it funny to place a wager after this woman and a very handsome, intelligent man found himself in the middle of a ballroom, causing a scandal.”
“And what exactly was the wager?”
“Oh, that said couple—although it is imperative that you know these two were in no way a couple at that point—would marry within the year.” Brock addressed his answer to Ruby, but kept Vi in his peripheral sight.
“That poor woman!” Harold said in exasperation.
“Oh, no…she is an extremely lucky woman,” Brock countered.
“Says a most handsome, intelligent man?” Vi asked.
“Of course!”
“More like a man more stubborn and headstrong than said woman,” Harold felt compelled to say. His friend had tried to deny his attraction to his wife for so long he’d almost ruined what they currently had.
“What other types of wagers do men make at White’s?” Ruby asked. “I mean, other than children’s names and potential matches within London’s elite?”
Her interest sparked Harold’s attention. While Brock and Vi continued to laugh and make jokes, Ruby’s demeanor had become serious, and she listened intently.
Brock speared a piece of meat, brought it to his mouth and chewed as he searched for a particularly juicy bit of gossip found in the book. “Well, men wager about horse races, business endeavors, and the like.” Harold knew he intentionally kept the subject matter tame, not willing to speak of the more scandalous items bet upon by men.
“Come now,” Ruby prodded him. “There must be more interesting goings-on than that.”
Harold wondered what information she sought with her inquisitiveness. “You are correct, Miss Ruby.” Harold decided to bait the hook, so to speak, and see if he could glean any idea as to what the woman was up to. “They wager on anything from which singer will receive an encore performance at the opera to what the weather will be in a fortnight.”
“Now, Harold. You cannot share all of our dirty secrets or Vi will never let me out of the house again. And then I will miss all the fun.”
“There must be more important things than that in the wager book.” Ruby leaned her elbows on the table, enthralled.
“Oh my, yes!” Vi said. “I have heard there is a list of London’s mistresses and illegitimate children.”
“Shame on you, Lady Haversham,” Brock scolded. “To discuss such delicate topics in front of ladies is the height of impropriety. We must work on your decorum.”
“My decorum?” Her outrage didn’t quite match the smile on her face.
“You are a most unruly woman! I think it is best to hire a tutor to train you in the ways of London society,” Brock continued, Harold and Ruby all but forgotten.
“Well, it will be a huge undertaking, but I will volunteer,” Harold chimed in.
“Like hell you will,” Brock’s thundering voice filled the room. “I will rein in my own wife, thank you all the same.”
Harold laughed, his gaze returning to Ruby, who stared intently at nothing in particular. “Is your supper to your liking?” he asked. “Miss Ruby?”
She returned to the present. “It is very good.” She picked up her fork and continued eating.
As Brock and Vi fell back into their comfortable conversation and Ruby concentrated on her meal, Harold watched. He didn’t understand the woman, and try as he might, he couldn’t make her trust him enough to explain herself.
He vowed then to keep an eye on her, help her avoid getting herself into another predicament like the night in Drake’s house, or the evening not many nights before when she’d stumbled upon him in Lord Yorkton’s study. If she wasn’t careful, she was likely to be caught by someone other than himself.
Chapter 20
“All I am saying is that my stables are far superior to most found within England’s borders.” Brock racked the billiard balls for a new game after losing dreadfully to Harold.
Harold laughed. “You truly believe that mares raised by your lovely wife will produce the best foal this country has seen in over three decades?”
“It is an unstated, yet undeniable fact.”
“And you seek to convince every man in London of this fact?” Harold asked.
His friend went far beyond what was deemed acceptable spousal support. Lady Haversham could do no wrong in Brock’s eyes.
“Of course…and I will make a second fortune from it!”
Harold knew Brock’s insistence in supporting Lady Haversham’s horses had naught to do with the money to be made, and all to do with his soothing her hurt and loss over the closing of her foal ranch, Foldger’s Foals, the previous year. While the property was anything but fallow—it now housed Foldger’s Foundling House—his wife missed her previous life and purpose.
“I wish I’d had the funds available at the time to purchase a few myself,” Harold said. “But then I’d also need the coin for a stable…oh, and an estate on which to house said stable.”
“As I have said before, money, or the lack thereof, does not totally change one’s life.”
It had been hard to think of anything else but this since they’d spoken a few nights before. No, money would not change his life completely, but it would allow him freedom.
Harold stepped forward to take his shot. The pool stick moved smoothly through his fingers and the balls pinged off each other and rebounded off the sides, three landing in pockets.
“Well done,” Brock said. “I should have known better than to think I could best you at billiards if we only played one more game.”
“I gave you the opportunity to bow out with your dignity still intact, but once again, you let it pass.” They’d played billiards for years—and for years, Harold had won almost every game. Much like his skill at cards, he had neither practiced nor studied.
“My lord?” Buttons called from the open doorway. “You have a guest.”
Harold leaned his stick against the wall as Alex walked into the room.
“Alex.” Brock embraced the young man before pulling back and assessing him from head to toe. “It has been too long, my boy.”
Harold avoided eye contact, hoping Alex wouldn’t betray Ruby’s confidence by announcing their brief meeting at Drake House. The young man had no reason to keep Harold’s whereabouts private, but Ruby’s were another thing.
“My lord.” Alex stepped back far enough to bow to Brock. “It has been overly long.”
“Listen to you,” Brock exclaimed. “You must be practicing your speech, just as Lady Haversham taught you.”
“I will be forever indebted to her.”
“Have you come to accept my offer of employment?” Brock asked. “As I said, I will double whatever the marquis currently pays you.”
“While that is very generous, my lord, I need to make my own way. One day I will have a family of my own to support and I cannot allow Lady Haversham to care for me.”
“You will inform me immediately if you are ever unhappy or treated unjustly?” Brock prodded.
“Of course, though I am very satisfied with my current employer, and I am learning much from his stable master.”
“Lady Haversham will be overjoyed to hear this. Let me ring for her to attend us.”
“That would be grand, but I fear I haven’t much time and I came to speak with Mr. Jakeston, if you don’t mind.” Alex nodded in Harold’s direction.
“Oh, most certainly.” Brock looked between them. “I hadn’t known the pair of you were acquainted.”
“Only through Miss Ruby,” Harold volunteered before Alex could say a word.
“Very well, then. Harold, I look forward to a rematch.” Brock nodded to Harold and patted Alex on the back before departing the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Harold could not imagine what Brock thought they had to discuss, but he was happy for the privacy. He was immediately alert to having not seen Ruby in the last few hours—but truly, how much trouble could she get into since mid-afternoon?
“Is everything all right?” he asked as soon as they were alone.
“I am not certain, Mr. Jakeston.”
“Please, call me Harold.”
The young man nodded, then continued. “You are a friend to Miss Ruby, correct?”
“I am not sure she would use the term friend,” Harold responded warily. “But I do find myself looking out for her, yes.”
Alex nodded, seeming to accept his answer. “Miss Ruby came to me not long ago and begged to borrow one of my livery uniforms.”
“Whatever for?”
“I am afraid she did not confide her plans to me, but she asked several odd questions.”
“Go on.”
“She wanted to know if the Marquis of Drake was in attendance at his club this evening.”
“And your answer?”
Alex sighed, as if Harold should already know the answer. “I informed her that my master only attends one evening a week and she knows very well what evening that is.”
Again, Harold felt like he was missing something.
“Mr. Jakeston—I mean Harold,” he said, when Harold looked at him cluelessly. “He was there just a few evenings past, when I snuck the pair of you into his home.”
“How did she take that news?”
“She was relieved, I presume.”
“Very peculiar,” Harold mused.
“My thoughts exactly.” The young man’s stance was one of confidence. “I worried she was going to request my assistance in getting access to the Drake townhouse again. I was greatly relieved when she only requested my uniform.”
She wanted the uniform and was relieved to hear Drake was safely ensconced at home.
Which could only mean one thing…
“Alex, thank you for coming to me.” Harold pushed past the young man to the door before turning. “Please, do not speak to Lord or Lady Haversham about this.”
“Of course not.”
“I appreciate your discretion. I will discover what the woman is up to before she is harmed.”
“I understand things are not always what they seem,” Alex said. “I hope you find her before she does something unwise.”
“I plan to, and expect she will be held accountable for her deeds.” With a quick wave, Harold started for the stairs. He hoped to find her still in her rooms, but the dread in the pit of his stomach told him he was too late.
Without knocking, he pushed her door wide. Sure enough, the room stood empty. The roaring fire in the fireplace told him her maid hadn’t expected her departure this evening. He cast his gaze about the room, searching for anything that would give him concrete proof of where she was headed. Wasting valuable time searching for her in the wrong places might very well cost Ruby her reputation.
The room held the things Harold judged as common to all women of the ton: brushes, mirrors, writing utensils, and stationery.
One thing stood out.
Nestled on her bedside table, between a candle and her wash bowl, was a bound book. The cover, tattered and worn, practically fell from the pages within when he lifted the tome. He turned it in his hand and opened the front cover to see handwritten words. Not the writing he knew well from the papers he’d read of Ruby’s, but the neat, flowing script of another, upon aged yellow pages.
Harold flipped through what he now knew was a journal of sorts, every page filled with words written by the same hand.
The words jumped off the paper, bringing into mind the pages he’d read on Ruby’s writing desk not long ago. Do not judge or condemn me for loving a man who cannot love me in return.
Confused, he flipped to an earlier entry in hopes of finding a better explanation. Instead, he stumbled on more convoluted statements. This child, how can I love it as it will only bring me sorrow?
