Ravishing Ruby (19 page)

“I am too experienced to make any such comment.”

“Then I will refrain from saying anything else,” Willis added. “But you admit there is a woman. The one your family chose?”

A dull throb began in Derek's temples. “I am surprised you do not know all the details already. And yes, the woman who chose the costume, Anne Williams, is the one my family believes would be advantageous.”

“And you?” Willis leaned closer. “It doesn't work if you are not in agreement.”

“There is certainly nothing wrong with Miss Williams.”

“That sounds rather tepid.”

“She comes with a handsome settlement, plus the ability to purchase three of the weaving machines my father desires, and two men skilled in their use. What more could a man want?”

“A pretty face.”

“She is not lacking in that department. Her beauty might not cause a war, but no man would have reason for complaint.”

“That still does not express excitement.”

“And does the prospect of marriage cause your heart to twitter? I notice that you have never asked the question yourself.”

“Exactly because the prospect has never caused a single missed beat. When I find a woman who makes me feel differently then I will take the great leap and not until.”

“Don't you mean until you skip that beat or your mother decides it is time you father an heir?” Derek knew he was not the only one with family pressure upon him. It would not be done to fail the earldom in the matter of succession.

Willis laughed. “I cannot deny that my mother would be much happier if I were busy filling the nursery, but I believe she has come to accept that I will not be hurried. It will happen when it happens, and if not there are cousins on my father's side who are not a bad lot.”

“I cannot imagine that thought pleases Aunt Laura.” Derek was quite sure that any patience that woman showed was only a pretense.

“It is not her pleasure that I am worried about. So where is the mysterious Miss Williams? Is she here? I should like to meet the woman who would cause you to give up the sea.”

“I never said I would give up the sea.”

“I've seen your mother's letters to mine. I well know what your father's plans are.”

“That does not mean that I plan the same,” he answered a trifle too sharply. The encounter with Ruby had left him out of sorts and Willis's questions did nothing to improve the matter. All these questions were pushing matters that did not need to be pushed. Things would happen as he wished.

“I don't know. I've always found that when it comes to parents and their expectations the moment one begins to give in all is lost. I've known men who have agreed to take a girl on a walk who blink and discover they are married with six children. Or others who agreed to take a look at a line in the books and find they are managing the estate and have not a moment left for fun.”

“By fun, you mean women and drink?” It was definitely time to shift the course of this conversation.

“What else? Speaking of which, why don't you introduce me to your fiancée and then perhaps we escort her home and take a little tour of Town. I know you always have time for a hand or two of cards and then perhaps we could stop by Madame Rouge's. Have you ever been?”

Now, that was a question he must avoid answering. “I think I'll find Anne—who is not yet my fiancée—and then have an early night. I find the milling throng has set my head to pounding.”

“Well, a few tots of whiskey and doing a little pounding of your own will take care of that.” Willis slapped him on the back.

“No, I have commitments in the morning and the need of a clear head, perhaps another night.”

“Soon. I will leave you to your lady, then.” Willis nodded his farewell and turned away.

Derek turned and found Anne standing across the ballroom, a broad and glowing smile upon her face.

Ruby stood outside the entrance to the warehouse. It was a Tuesday, not her normal day for visiting her grandfather, but she could not have put Derek off until the weekend, and she had to admit that she was not sure her nerves could have handled the wait.

Would her grandfather accept her visit so out of turn?

Before his demand for her marriage she was not sure, but she rather fancied that he would welcome any sign she was ready to embrace the life he had chosen for her. A husband. She still was not quite ready for the idea. It was so different from anything she had ever pictured for herself.

But was it worse?

Her stomach might churn with fear at the idea, but she could not say that it was worse than the other possibilities for her future.

Being Madame Rouge was wonderful—for now. She might have some questions about the profession, but ultimately she knew that most of her girls had no other choices in the world and were better off with her than anywhere else. The world was not a kind place for women without family and support.

Women without family.

She gazed up at the brick building. Since she had left her mother's home she'd had two distinct families, the girls and servants at Madame Rouge's and her grandmother and grandfather and the life within this building. Madame Rouge's had always been transient. The girls came and went. There were only a couple who had been there as long as she had, and she knew they were trying to decide their futures, recognizing the time limits of the life they led. A certain degree of youth was required in the business and when that expired the choices became even harder.

And what of herself? There was no age limit on being a madam, but did she truly want to be in the same place in twenty years? Did she wish to be surrounded by crowd after crowd of young girls, their stories sad and their eyes sadder? Did she wish to see the continued reflection of herself in men's eyes in a world that loved only youth and beauty?

Would it be possible not to grow bitter in such a life?

She didn't know. There were so many things she did not know if she looked beyond the walls of safety that she had built herself. The world was scary. She had not thought so when she was a child, and even after her father had sent her away she had been so busy trying to make her way that she had never stopped to consider the dangers that lurked about.

Now she understood. She had seen the hard lives her girls lived both before and after coming to her. She understood how heartless men could be and how unforgiving.

Unforgiving. She looked up at the brick walls again, tracing the lines of mortar.

Her grandfather had certainly proved unforgiving with her mother. Her mother had done her best to remain stoic, but on occasion it had been impossible not to see the quickly wiped tears or the look of longing.

But then, her mother had been equally unforgiving of her grandfather. She might have longed for his love, but from the moment she had been cast off she had refused to ask to be taken back. She could not forgive the duke for leaving her, for not supporting her when she needed it, regardless of the decisions that she had made.

And was Ruby herself any less unforgiving? She had never attempted to speak to her father from the moment his man had given her the funds she'd used to buy Madame Rouge's. She had thought of him, remembered the man who'd smiled at her gently when she danced about the room, remembered the man who brought her treats and told her how pretty she was, but she'd never again sent him a note or attempted any type of communication. He had injured her heart and she would never risk letting him touch it again. Was that not its own form of not forgiving?

She was being overly melancholy, but strangely she found comfort in it. There were moments when it felt good to wallow in misery.

It was better than facing the fear of walking through the door, of surprising her grandfather when he was not expecting her.

And that was why she was thinking of unforgiving and unforgiven fathers. If she walked through that door and her grandfather did not receive her, if he turned from her, what would happen then?

She had realized that she was not prepared to let him cast her aside. She was not ready for marriage, either, but she could never willingly give up her family, give up the love her grandmother showed in setting the Sunday table, give up the excitement on her grandfather's face when he unrolled a bolt of fine fabric.

She took two steps forward and placed her hand upon the handle of the door, willing herself to turn it and enter.

Why had she told Derek to call so early? She should have given herself more time to prepare and plan. But she had not been thinking. It had been the impulse of the moment and not one that she could cast aside. And she still didn't think she was wrong.

The answer to her problems was obvious; she had but to find the courage to reach for it, and hope that she was not wrong about her captain. And she must believe that there was a reason he was not yet promised to Anne, be it fate or his own sense that it was not the right thing for his life.

She could only believe, only trust in the instinct that had led her right so many times in her life.

But it had also led her wrong. If her gut were infallible, she would never have given herself to Lord Percy, never believed his whispered promises of love.

So why was she now willing to risk so much for a man who had not spoken of love, a man who had never said that he thought she was suitable for marriage, a man she did not know that well, despite the intimate secrets they had shared?

Was she touched in the head?

Why did she even think her dreams were a possibility?

Yes, the universe did keep pointing her in that direction, but was that the universe or her own desires? She had gone to Derek last night. If truth be stated, she had come close to hunting him down.

But what he needed to make his family happy and what she needed to make her grandfather happy were so aligned.

Would the universe be so cruel as to show her the answer and then take it away?

She certainly knew it could be. There was no pretending otherwise.

But little was given to those who did not ask.

With sheer determination, she pressed down the handle, pushed open the door, and stepped through.

Matthews and another of her grandfather's men were busy shifting bolts of fabric from a crate to a high shelf, one man lifting and handing off to the other. They both gave her a nod, but continued with their work. They gave no sign that her being here was unusual, although she had not visited on any day except Sunday since she'd been a small child.

She stepped in. The room was quieter than usual, the normal bustle strangely absent.

“Where is everybody?” she asked quietly, trying to hide the wobble of nervousness that marked her voice.

Matthews looked up. “It's early yet. Most don't get here until eight. Your grandfather's in, though. He's up in his office. He'll be most glad to see you. I know the accounts have been vexing him something awful.” He nodded in the direction of the narrow stairs leading up to the office.

Had she come too early? She had not even considered the time beyond thinking that she needed to get here in time to talk to her grandfather before Derek's possible arrival.

Possible arrival
. Her mind was trying to drive her to terror. She no sooner pushed herself through one obstacle before another arose. Hell, she hadn't even fully pushed herself though this obstacle. It was one thing to open a door, another to actually speak to her grandfather.

Possible arrival
. And what if Derek didn't come? What if she went through all of this and he never came, never sent her a note? What if he simply disappeared?

She had chased him once. She would not do it a second time.

It was a wonder she'd slept at all.

One foot in front of the other, she forced her feet to move, across the floor, up the stairs. Another door needing to be opened. This time she did not delay, very aware of the two men watching as she moved.

She stepped into the office. Her grandfather looked up, a warm smile—and then confusion.

Derek rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head, trying to head back to the shelter of sleep. Daylight peeked beneath his lids and he burrowed deeper, trying to hide.

It did not work.

It was morning and his body arose in the morning. It had been so rare for him to have the luxury of morning sleep over the years that he feared his body had forgotten how. And today he could definitely have used a few more hours of escape from the decisions that must be made.

A few weeks ago everything had been so simple. While he had not exactly embraced his fate—the necessity of his marriage, the pressure he knew was coming to settle and work in the family business—he had expected it.

Now he was not sure. But what was there to not be sure about? He knew what his life was, what must be done and what could be avoided.

If he married Anne then he could put off staying in one place for a few more years. He would bring her to his parents, let them take her in and help her make a home, and he would stay at sea for a few more years, wait while the children came and then—perhaps, then—he would have lived out his need for adventure, for new horizons, and then he would be content to take up a life of overseeing the mills, counting the yards of fabric that each bag of cotton provided, of keeping the accounts current and accurate, and of coming home at the end of each day to a roast and drink on the porch overlooking the bay. It would not be a bad life, he was just not sure that it was meant to be his.

But perhaps children and a wife would change that. There was some comfort to the thought of coming home to loving arms and giggling faces. He'd seen children change a man, knew that having small lives dependent on one could change how one looked at life, that risks that were acceptable when one was alone seemed far greater when a family's happiness and support lay in the balance.

These thoughts were too deep for this early in the morning.

Perhaps he would find reason tonight when he dined with Anne and her brother.

If only he had faith that more time spent in Anne's company would help make things clearer. And it did not help that even as the images of that life he was not sure he wanted filled his mind it was not Anne's face he saw before him.

Blast.

Stretching, he swung his legs out of the bed. It was early, too early. He couldn't even smell bacon frying or bread baking in any of the building's other sets of rooms.

He stretched again, his long arms reaching high above his head, the muscles in his back pulling tight and then easing.

Standing, he reached for the breeches that hung over a chair beside his bed and pulled them on.

Should he go in hunt of food, or wait for the maidservant he paid to bring food from a tavern down the street? This time of year there weren't even coals banked in the grate to heat a kettle over. There was probably still some flat ale in the tankard by the window, but the thought set his stomach churning.

He didn't even have a book to distract him. He'd finished his last selection yesterday and the only book in the flat was the recently finished
Ivanhoe
and after last night he doubted that would help settle his thoughts.

Last night. Bloody hell. How could a single night complicate his life so much?

Ruby. The tower room. Sex that still had his cock quivering. And more. The words. The secrets. He had told her more than he had ever told another woman, things he'd never thought to share. And she'd done the same. He hardly knew her and her life and yet they'd shared the secrets of their souls. It made no sense and yet it made perfect sense.

And Anne. She'd been a different woman when he returned from his encounter with Ruby last night, a woman full of smiles and gaiety, a woman a man could wish a life with. He didn't know what had caused the change. At first he'd been afraid she'd noticed him leaving with Ruby, but no, she simply seemed in good spirits, no complaints, no nagging. She'd been a delight to flirt and dance with. If he'd met her six months ago, he would have found her a pleasant choice for a bride—assuming he'd been looking for a bride. But now? Now he could not see beyond Ruby.

He wanted to bang his head against the wall. It was not supposed to be like this.

What did he do next?

He glanced at the table beside the bed, at the scrap of paper Ruby had written the direction on. What was that about? What new secret did she have to share? And did he want to know?

Yes, he did. He shouldn't, but he did. He wished to know everything about her. But to what end? He could not be thinking their relationship could progress beyond the next few weeks, could he?

Well, there was only one way to find out. He would have to dress and go out, go to this mysterious meeting with Ruby.

Lost in thought, in questions without answers, he was startled by the heavy pounding on the door.

A knock at the door. He looked up. There was nobody here to answer it.

He shrugged to his feet, surprised at how steadily they walked to the door.

Had Ruby known?

What had she wanted?

Why couldn't he get her sad face out of his mind?

Why couldn't he put away the guilt at putting that look on her face?

He pulled open the door. “What?”