Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 41
They hadn’t had much alone time to discuss the girl since they’d escaped Drake’s house. “Who is she?”
“We spent that brief afternoon getting ices but I fear I know nothing more than before, besides the fact that she is an accomplished pickpocket.”
“You jest!”
“I wish I did.” Ruby’s steps became more certain the further they walked. “I saw it firsthand; the little minx is precocious. I believe she did it to shock me.”
“I happen to remember another girl, equally as precocious at a much younger age.” He tried to keep her attention off her pain. “This girl liked to follow the boys about, playing in the mud, and pilfering Cook’s pies.”
The look she shot his way told him he’d succeeded.
“Oh yes, that gangly girl who was always getting in the way and causing trouble.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “I do not remember her getting in the way—but I fear it was those troublesome boys who always led her astray.” He would not wish his childhood on another, or seek to relive the taunting and maltreatment he’d endured at the hands of his father, although he’d think twice about going back to that time for a few moments’ time with an unguarded Ruby.
“Hey, you two love birds,” Ellie called over her shoulder. “It’s the next building. Keep quiet and allow me to speak for us.”
Chapter 22
Ruby took a step away from Harold, putting space between them. The distance gave her a chance to think. Her head still pained her, but that very well might be the least of her problems at the moment. She wanted to lean against him, have him take the weight from her shoulders, yet didn’t know how to ask.
Ellie paused in front of them and turned to what looked like a boarding house, with a sign out front that read Craven House. “As I said, keep quiet and let me handle things.”
The house, nicer than most you’d find in Mayfair, was better kept than any boarding house she’d seen. “What is this place?” Ruby asked.
“Are you sure there is a doctor here?” Harold asked skeptically.
Ellie walked along the side of the building and toward the back. “Of sorts. I never said she needed to see a doctor, only get medical attention.”
“Pox on me for not being more specific with my words.” Harold closed the distance Ruby had put between them as they followed Ellie to the door. “We can turn around now.”
Ruby climbed two steps to a back door, unsure. “We could.”
Ellie turned to them before she knocked. “I am not forcing help upon you. I know someone who is versed in this sort of thing. She will take a look, poke around a bit, and we will be on our way.”
It all sounded simple enough, and she did need to know how bad it was without the risk of involving Brock and Vi.
“Are you both agreeable?” Ellie asked.
When they both nodded, Ellie rapped on the door.
Someone on the other side knocked back.
Ruby and Harold exchanged a look. Hers definitely questioning their decision to trust Ellie; his seeking to reassure her that he would keep her safe.
Ruby knew he would—not because they’d known each other for so long, but because that was the type of man he was.
“The blue crow flies south,” Ellie said, just loud enough for her voice to be heard through the solid door as she stepped back.
Ruby took in the building while they waited, for what she wasn’t sure. The yard was well-kept, with a solid stable house in back. The exterior of the building appeared freshly painted and maintained. It was an awfully large home to house a clinic and she did not think even a man of medicine could afford to keep his family so well-housed.
When the door was pulled wide, Ruby looked over Ellie’s shoulder into a room shrouded in a dim, golden glow. Whoever had allowed them entry must have stood behind the open door, hidden from view. The room was warm in contrast to the cool breeze outside. As Ruby’s eyes adjusted she, noticed the walls and furniture were all varying shades of gold. A length of gossamer gold fabric adorned every flat surface, including a large canopy bed that dominated the room.
Harold’s hold on her elbow tightened. Looking to him, he nodded in the direction they’d entered.
An elegantly dressed woman now stood in front of the closed door. Her blonde hair was swept up in an elaborate coiffeur that must have taken a maid hours to complete. Pearls hung delicately from her neck, ears, and wrist. A red silk gown, its plunging neckline barely acceptable by the most lenient of London standards, clung to her petite form and swept out behind her.
“Ellington, I did not expect you this evening,” the woman said in a cultured tone, before looking to Ruby and Harold, her brow raised in question. “And who are your companions?” The way she said the word ‘companions’ made Ruby feel like naught but a dirty street urchin Ellie had collected on her way here.
Ellie lowered her head, as if she’d been scolded. “I know. It is only my friend,” Ellie squeezed out the word, sounding embarrassed to call Ruby her friend, “was hurt and needed someone to look at her face. I could think of no one else to ask.”
The woman, a full head shorter than Ruby, turned to her. “I am Marce Davenport and welcome to my—” she paused, searching for the right word, “—home. Come this way, and I will have a look. Ellington, please let Jude and Sam know I have company and then attend us in the front salon.”
If the woman wondered why Ruby was dressed in men’s breeches, shirt, and cap she said nothing.
“Of course,” Ellie responded with a touch of reverence.
Who was this woman, and what kind of home was this? Ruby had learned long ago not to judge a person by their past—and sometimes not their present.
“Right this way.”
Harold had been oddly silent since their arrival. She glanced at him to make sure he was still there. “Well, our evening cannot go any more awry then it already has,” she whispered.
“Do not be foolish,” Ms. Davenport said. “Things can always get worse, but I would thank you to save that until after you leave my home.”
With that, she walked out of the room, her hips swaying to an unheard beat, leaving Ruby and Harold little choice but to follow. The rest of the first floor was much the same, each room they passed decorated in a different color, yet the furniture and layout were identical. Finally they arrived at the salon, the only room drastically different from the rest. This area more closely resembled a pub than a salon. Four card tables sat about the room, only lacking players. A long table sat against one wall, filled with decanters of every size, holding liquids of varying shades. A small table with two chairs were the only acceptable seating.
“You have a lovely home, Ms. Davenport.”
“Call me Marce. Thank you, all my gentlemen agree.” She smiled at them both. “Please, have a seat, and I will see how badly you are injured.”
“Gentlemen?” Harold asked.
“My clients,” she answered confidently, acknowledging Harold for the first time. From her smile, Ruby could tell that the woman liked what she saw. “Can I pour you a drink, Lord…”
“Not lord. Just Mr. Jakeston. And I would enjoy a spot of sherry, if it is not too much trouble.”
At his reply, Marce’s smile faded and she focused her attention back on Ruby. “You will find everything you seek in the next room. I do not keep sherry in here.” She pointed to the door, bringing a candle close to Ruby’s swollen cheek. She turned Ruby’s face this way and that.
Pain shot down her cheek and into her neck.
“If you think this hurts now, wait until the morning.” She made a tsking sound. “Who hit you? Your lover over there?” She tilted her head in the direction Harold had departed.
Shocked, Ruby pulled from the woman grasp. “He is not my—” she gulped down air to get the word out, “—lover!”
“Ironic that what you took from my comment is that I insinuated he was your lover.” She laughed, taking her chin once more. “I do not judge if he is. Or if he’s the one responsible for your bruise. I see it all the time. One day you won’t stand for it any longer.”
“Harold is not my lover, and he would never hurt me.” She winced in discomfort again when Marce probed at her cheek.
“Abuse rarely comes from the expected place.”
Ruby was relieved when Marce finally sat back. She wanted a warm bath, maybe some ice to soothe the hurt.
“Luckily for you, nothing is broken. Unfortunately, you will have quite the bruise by morning.” She stood and moved to the sidebar to pour a drink—Ruby expected for herself, since she hadn’t asked her if she wanted one. “I suggest ice to reduce the swelling. The bruising will last about a week. I have some cream that should cover it rather effectively. Drink this.”
Ruby looked at the clear liquid she held out to her. “No, thank you, but—”
“Drink it, fast, you’ll be happy you did. The pain will be something fierce soon.”
She swirled it in the glass and brought it to her lips, swallowing it in one gulp. It burned as it went down.
“It will warm you up, as well.”
Ruby coughed, trying to catch her breath. “May I ask you something?”
Marce eyed her suspiciously. “If you wish.”
“How are you acquainted with Ellington?”
“Her mother and I were dear friends. Are you ready to find Mr. Jakeston? I am sure you would like to rest.”
“One more question?” she asked tentatively.
“If you must.”
“What is this place?”
Marce laughed. “Heaven for some, hell for others.”
“I do not understand.”
“Do you not wonder why Ellington saw fit to bring you to me?”
“I was not in a place to argue.”
“It is very common for men to abuse women—”
“I told you, it was not Harold who hit me.”
Marce held her hand up, signaling for silence. “I am uninterested in who hit you. But unfortunately, I see it more often than most. Girls come to me for all sorts of reasons; whether it be financial misfortune, an abusive father or husband, or just wanting to find a place where they’re able to belong and be themselves.”
Ruby still hadn’t the faintest idea who and what Marce was.
“This is a brothel and card house,” Marce finally said with a sigh, as though Ruby was too dense to be believed. “I cater to rich, entitled men. The occasional incident occurs in which I must patch up my girls, but that man is never allowed back. Violence, in any form, is not allowed within these walls. I protect what is mine, just as I have tried to protect Ellington since her mother’s death.”
Ruby didn’t know what to say. The woman’s words were unexpected to say the least, but made an odd sort of sense now that they were out.
Thankfully, Harold and Ellington returned before further conversation became necessary. Ruby felt sure she would not only nurse her injury tonight, but also ponder all she’d learned about Ellington. And she would try hard, extremely hard, not to dwell on the fact that she’d spent her evening in both a gentlemen’s club and a brothel.
“Are you ready?” Harold asked. “Vi and Brock will be returning shortly from their evening out. If we hurry, we should be able to slip back in unnoticed.”
Ruby nodded. “Thank you, Marce. I will not forget your kindness.”
“You will forget me quickly enough, I am sure.” She slipped a small container into Ruby’s hand when she made to leave. “But, do not forget this. It will help cover your bruise until it fades. If you need more, send Ellington to fetch it.”
Ruby smiled and took Harold’s elbow. “My thanks again.” When they turned toward the door, Ellington remained. “Are you coming, Ellie? We can walk you home before continuing on our way.”
“Nah,” she mumbled. “I can make my own way home.”
Ruby was torn between staying to make sure Ellie returned home safety, or keeping hold of Harold and allowing him to take care of her. When Marce nodded from the open doorway behind Ellie, Ruby knew the young girl would not come to harm.
Smiling, she looked up at Harold, whose eyes held only concern for her. “Shall we go? I find myself exhausted and in need of a restful night.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Chapter 23
With the immediate danger behind them, Harold couldn’t deposit Ruby fast enough. Only one thing dominated his mind: Finding Rodney and beating the pulp out of the bloody scoundrel. How dare he put Ruby in harm’s way and then leave her to her own devices? His blood boiled thinking of the consequences for her because Rodney had somehow involved himself.
His boots echoed down the hall and servants ducked into other rooms as he passed. He could only imagine the fury they saw on his face; he was a volcano about to erupt, and no one wanted to be near when it happened.
Only question now was where to find the man. It was late, the card games at White’s having wrapped up an hour before. Most of the ton would be departing their evening entertainments shortly.
But Harold’s luck must be improving, because no more had he ran through possible methods of finding the rascal when a hack pulled along the street a house down from Brock’s townhouse and Rodney jumped down, headed toward him.
“Rodney,” Harold called. “You son of a bitch!”
Rodney’s steps faltered and he looked behind him to the hack, moving down the street in search of its next fare of the night. He turned back to Harold, knowing his chance of escape was nil.
“Lovely evening, is it not?” Rodney asked when he was within hearing distance. “A bit chilly, but comfortable.”
“Do not patronize me.”
“Whatever are you speaking of?”
“You know exactly what I am speaking of.” Harold reached forward, taking the front of the man’s coat in his fists, bringing them face to face. “Do not play me for the fool.”
Rodney flinched, his hands clamped over Harold’s as he attempted to peel his fingers from their hold. “What were you thinking?” Harold continued. “She could have been seriously hurt—or worse yet, discovered.”
The scoundrel pushed against Harold. “Unhand me. I have only just arrived in town, and have no idea what you are speaking about.”
“The hell you don’t.” So many emotions flooded Harold. The man was a crook if he’d ever seen one, always with the lies and manipulation. “Nothing has changed since we were children.”
“I fear you are correct. You’re still riding the coattails of my cousin, living off his wealth and status.”
Harold drew his fist back, ready to pummel the man. Rodney had avoided the fist aimed at him earlier, but there was no escape for him now. Harold had years of pent-up anger to get out, and at the moment all of it was aimed at this very man. As a child, Rodney had ridiculed him, belittled him, and antagonized him unmercifully. Nothing had changed as they’d moved into adulthood. Every occasion they met, the man went out of his way to disparage Harold, frequently embarrassing him in front of others.
He’d never been a fighter, but Harold would crush the man responsible for the bruise on Ruby’s face.
“Harold.” The frantic female scream broke through his fury. “Harold, let him go.”
“Yes, Harold. Do release me this instant.” Harold’s grip relaxed and Rodney chuckled. “Now run along like a good little boy and hide.”
Harold released Rodney’s coat and pushed him away, not trusting he wouldn’t still put his fist through the man’s face—something he knew he must avoid doing in the presence of Lady Haversham.
“Be gone,” he called after Rodney. “Be advised this is not over.”
“What is going on here?” Brock asked. The pair stood outside their carriage, having arrived home from their evening activities. “Where did Rodney come from? I was unaware he was in town.”
Harold took a moment to calm himself before responding. He breathed in and out several times to settle his racing heart. He knew Rodney was not particularly welcome at the Haversham townhouse when Brock and Lady Haversham were in residence—not since he’d tried to blackmail Brock’s wife before they were married.
Regaining his composure, Harold searched for an explanation for Brock, which would also soothe Lady Haversham. The truth was out of the question, for it would call into issue both himself and Ruby.
Lady Haversham stood next to Brock, a look of fright on her face and her hand gently pressed against her swollen abdomen.
He felt accountable for her dismay. After a long evening out she must be fatigued.
“Lady Haversham,” he said. “I do apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior.”
“If anyone was acting ungentlemanly I have no doubt it is my newest cousin by marriage.” Lady Haversham smiled, her demeanor changing. “I do thank you for chasing him off.”
“You have done everyone involved a favor,” Brock cut in. “If you hadn’t chased him off, then I most certainly would have. Let us take this inside. I find myself in need of a drink.” Brock took Lady Haversham’s arm and they moved into the house, Harold trailing behind.
Harold glanced around the foyer, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ruby while at the same time fearing she’d stumble upon them, her bruise on display for all. Thankfully, she did not appear, so he assumed she was safely up the stairs and in her room by now.
“Well, gentlemen, I am afraid I am exhausted and my feet are sorely in need of a good soaking.” Lady Haversham kissed Brock on the cheek and gave Harold a quick hug and a smile. “If you will excuse me.”
Both men bowed as she left the room.
Once they were ensconced in Brock’s study, drinks in hand, his friend asked question after question.
“So, what happened?”
“Rodney arrived the same time as I and things got out of hand.”
“Bullshit.”
“You doubt that just encountering the man makes my blood boil?”
“Oh, I do not doubt that,” Brock said. “But I also know you are not me. It takes more than a look or a few words to set you off.”
