Authors: Jillian Hart
“I see.” Anger and dread poured over him like water from the cascade, leaving him nearly as cold. He'd been wrong. It wasn't concern about expectations that had kept Ruby from giving him her heart. She thought all aristocrats were craven, dishonored.
Even him, it seemed.
* * *
Ruby felt as if every part of her body stung. Thereâshe'd told him all. Surely now he'd take steps to protect himself. She couldn't bear the thought that something might hurt him. Sacrificing her dignity would be worth it to save him from pain.
But she saw pain now in the tightening of his skin across his nose, the way his chin rose as if to deflect a blow.
“I see,” he repeated. “I suppose I should be glad we had this conversation.”
Ruby nodded, relaxing. At last she'd gotten through to him. He set such high standards for himself he thought others could actually meet them. Now he'd realize how few did.
“I can understand why you refused my proposal the first time,” he continued, standing so tall and proud she felt the first blush of misgiving. “How could you possibly want to marry a scheming, wastrel aristocrat like me?”
Ruby felt as if she'd been slapped. “No, Whit! I didn't mean...”
He shook his head once, hard. “But you did. All these events, these horrid things that you've witnessed and that have happened to you, have convinced you to trust no one, especially not an aristocrat. You're angry they couldn't be honest, that they couldn't value you for the fine woman you've become.”
Her tears continued to run; she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “That's not important right now. What is important is that you have a care for your life!”
“What is important,” he said, “is that I live by my principles. Do not ask me to doubt my cousin, someone who has stood by me my entire life, because you cannot trust.
I
trust him. That should be enough for you.”
Perhaps it should. But what if he was wrong? Oh, what if he was wrong?
“Whit, please,” she tried again, but he held up his hand.
“No, Ruby. If you care for me, if you want a future together, then I ask you to live by your principles, as well.”
Ruby threw up her hands, her reticule swinging. “I am! They dictate that I try to help those I love. Don't ask me to stand by and watch you be hurt.”
“I know you care,” he said, and she thought he was trying to gentle his tone. “You have been my best advocate, from the day we met. But you ask, no you demand, that others accept you for yourself. Can you not offer me the same courtesy?”
Every part of her trembled. “I accept you.”
“Do you? Can you accept that I am an honorable aristocrat?”
She nodded. “Yes! I've seen how you treat others, your kindness. You saved my life when it would have been far easier simply to save your own.”
He was watching her. “And can you accept that I know my own cousin?”
That was harder. She could feel the struggle inside her. As if he saw it on her face as well, he sighed and stepped back.
“Think on what I said,” he told her. “For now, I should check on my other guests.” He inclined his head, then turned to clamber down the stairs.
“Oh!” She stomped her foot. “Of all the prideful, stubborn...”
“Overly optimistic, honorable fellows,” Quimby added, reminding her that he had just witnessed her worst moment.
Her face heated, and she could not look at the valet.
“I didn't mean to imply he had no honor, Mr. Quimby,” she said. “He is easily the most honorable man I've ever met. But being so honorable, so bound by duty, he doesn't seem to realize that all men are not cut from the same cloth.”
“And you, I think,” the valet murmured, “cannot see that many truly are. Forgive me, Miss Hollingsford, for contributing to your conclusions.”
Ruby wrapped an arm about her waist, but the motion brought no comfort this time. “I still think Mr. Calder is up to no good. We have to find a way to protect Whit.”
She looked at the valet at last, challenging him to disagree with her, too. He inclined his head. “I will not allow Lord Danning to be lax, I promise. I fear there is nothing further we can do.”
Ruby nodded, then murmured her excuses and turned for her room.
Her maid must have been downstairs on some errand, for the space stood empty. Ruby shut the door behind her and threw her reticule on the bed. Was she so very wrong to want to protect Whit? She'd never felt this way about any other man. Even her infatuation with Phillip seemed pale, distant, compared to her feelings for Whit. The very thought of something happening to him sent her into panic, made it hard to breathe, to think. Was this love?
When Whit had taken her in his arms and kissed her, she'd thought her heart would burst with joy. At that moment, she was certain she'd found her place at lastâat his side, helpmate, wife, beloved. Now she couldn't avoid feeling that she'd disappointed him, and all because she couldn't trust a scoundrel!
She went to the bed, yanked open her reticule and pulled out the pistol. With her hands still shaking, now was no time to be working with lead balls and powder. It reminded her of the way she'd trembled the day a man in a dark cloak had grabbed her outside her father's shop, held a knife to her throat while her father pleaded for her life.
You can have her back,
the kidnapper had promised in a gravelly voice,
for a thousand pounds sterling.
He'd started to drag her away, when a shot had rung out, and she'd found herself free. Davis, her father's coachman, had used the rifle he kept on the box. The would-be kidnapper had been uninjured, but he had fled all the same, never to darken their door again, frightened of the power of the gun. After she'd stopped shaking, she'd told her father she wouldn't rest until she could fire one, as well.
And what good had it done? She set the pistol on the table by the bed. She hadn't had it with her when someone had fired on Whit, couldn't have shot back even if she'd had it without knowing the villain's location. All she could do was take Whit at his word and trust him to protect himself.
Trust.
The word made her shudder, and she gasped, stiffening. She could trust. Surely she could trust. She trusted her father...well, until he'd lied to her about coming to Derbyshire. She'd have to keep a closer eye on him if she and Whit could not find a way back to each other. Who knew what he'd try next in his plans to marry her off!
She shook herself. She could trust. She trusted herself. She'd never let herself down. Except just now, when she'd hurt Whit so badly. She'd talked too soon, moved too quickly. She should learn to stop and think.
Was he right? Had she lost the ability to trust?
Sorrow swept over her, pushed her down upon the bed.
Oh, Lord, what have I become? I thought I was just taking care of myself, protecting myself. You know I had cause. If people who said they cared about meâthe girls from school, Phillipâcould not be bothered to take care of me, if You could not be bothered with Ruby Hollingsford, why shouldn't I take over the job?
From somewhere, a verse echoed in her mind:
The rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God. Trust in Him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before Him: God is a refuge for us.
Ruby raised her head, sniffing back a sob. What a thought. Even God, it seemed, expected her to trust.
And that was the hardest thing for her to do. People let her down, failed to keep their promises of friendship, of love. Trusting meant opening herself to fresh pain, more disappointment.
Yet, she knew, if she wanted to have any hope of marrying Whit, of finding peace within herself, of making peace with God, she had to find the strength to trust.
But, oh, how much easier hoped than done!
Chapter Seventeen
W
hit found himself standing by the stream. He wasn't surprised. Something about the water, whether the flash of silver or the cheerful chatter, had ever calmed his spirits. But this time, even bathing in the chill waters would not erase the past few moments.
She thought him a monster.
Given the stories she'd shared, he could understand why she so distrusted the aristocracy in general. He'd simply never thought she saw him in the same light. That Milton had been so cruel to her made his hands fist. But that she thought him capable of the same cruelty cut deeper.
How could he offer for her, how could they make a marriage, if she could not trust? What a wretched life that would be for her, feeling as if she must watch him constantly, expecting perfidy. And what an equally wretched life for him, never knowing what might make her think he'd betrayed her, every least fault seen as a warning of worse to come.
He kept going over his actions from the day he'd met Ruby, wondering how else he might have proved to her that he was trustworthy. His father, his tutors and his guardians had instilled in him the belief that a true gentleman was known by his actions. He had never lied to Ruby, never attempted to take advantage. Nor would he. If she couldn't accept that now, what hope did he have?
And if she couldn't trust him, she'd never believe she could trust Charles, no matter how many times Whit promised he had no reason to believe his cousin was a danger. If Charles had removed the Danning diamonds from the safe, he must have had good reason. Whit would ask him, but after this house party was over and everyone was in a more congenial state of mind.
The King of Trout leaped from the stream, flicking his tail as if to make sure Whit had seen him.
“Swim, my lad,” Whit told him. “I've no heart to chase you today.”
Indeed, his heart had been captured by Ruby, and he didn't know whether he'd ever get it back.
* * *
Inside the Lodge, Ruby hurried down the stairs. She had to find Whit and apologize. If they never spoke another word beyond this, he deserved to know that she held him in the highest esteem. She still feared what his cousin might do, but she knew she had to trust Whit to see to the matter. She owed him that at the very least.
She tried the library and narrowly avoided a conversation with Charles, who seemed to be hunched in one of the armchairs. Ruby could only hope his morose look came from an attack of conscience. One of the hardest things about the rest of this house party would be to spend time around Charles and keep herself from spitting in his eye or kicking him in the shins or any number of other actions that flashed through her mind when she thought about his evil intentions toward Whit.
She next tried the withdrawing room, but Whit was not with his other guests. Henrietta and her parents were also missing. Ruby stepped back into the corridor and glanced up and down length. He couldn't have left! He was far too upright to desert his guests.
In desperation, she tried the door to his fishing closet. The rods and books of flies were all in their places, and Henrietta stood gazing at them.
“What are you doing here?” Ruby couldn't help asking.
The bluestocking rubbed a hand along the sleeve of her sprigged muslin gown. “In truth, I simply wanted a little privacy.”
Ruby opened her mouth to apologize, then noticed the red rims on Henrietta's eyes, the puffiness on her soft cheeks. Ruby shut the door behind her and ventured closer. “What's happened?”
Henrietta swallowed before answering, as if trying to master her emotions. “My father refused Mr. Calder's suit because he thinks Charles isn't good enough for me.”
“Oh, no!” Mixed with her sympathy for Henrietta's sadness was a bolt of fear at the thought of Charles's possible reaction. Faced with losing the woman he loved, would he become even more desperate to gain a title? She'd promised the Lord she would learn to trust, but surely Whit deserved to know. Yet, even if she told him, would he act on her concerns or wave her off once more? Or worse yet, see her actions as proof Ruby could never trust, even him?
Henrietta nodded, wiping away a tear with her fingers. “I don't have it in me to disobey my father, Ruby. I know he wants the best for me.”
In other circumstances, Ruby would have argued. Now she had to admit to relief that Henrietta would not be marrying a man willing to attempt murder. Still the bluestocking could hardly know the fate she had avoided, and it was plain to see she was sincerely attached to the man.
“I'm very sorry,” was all Ruby could think to say.
Henrietta sighed. “Unfortunately, I cannot see myself marrying Danning, meeting Charles at every family gathering, wondering what might have been. Nor would I torture Charles in that way.”
“Then what will you do?” Ruby asked with a frown.
“I must think,” Henrietta murmured, gaze returning to the fishing gear stacked neatly on the shelves, as if she wished her life was as easily arranged.
Ruby felt for her. She knew how it had hurt to lose Phillip, even after realizing he was a dastard. Henrietta didn't know that Charles was evil. His loss could only hurt deeper.
She was highly tempted to tell Henrietta her suspicions, if only to cushion the blow of loss. But she was determined to leave the matter to Whit. Wasn't that what trust meant?
She laid a hand on Henrietta's arm. “I will give you the privacy you crave, but know that I am happy to listen if you feel the need to share your thoughts.”
Henrietta regarded her. “Thank you, Ruby. I believe company would be very welcome right now. Why don't we locate Lady Amelia and have a chat?”
Ruby wanted to demur. She yearned to find Whit. But she'd run out of places to look inside the house short of knocking on his bedchamber door, and it wasn't often a lady showed interest in her company.
She linked arms with Henrietta. “Lady Amelia was in the withdrawing room last time I saw her. I'm sure she'd welcome company, too.”
The beauty was at the spinet, playing a mournful air. Ruby glanced about, but Whit still wasn't to be seen. She resigned herself to a ladylike discussion of the weather, the latest fashions and the usual impersonal topics the aristocracy seemed to enjoy sharing.
Henrietta, however, clearly had other ideas.
“It is evident to me, Lady Amelia,” she said, casting a quick glance to where the two mothers were on the sofa discussing the management of servants, “that you are not enamored of Lord Danning.”
Lady Amelia drew her fingers away from the keys and folded her hands in the lap of her muslin gown. Ruby was proud of her for not blushing. “That is quite true.”
“Neither am I,” Henrietta confided. “However, it is equally evident that Miss Hollingsford has caught his eye. I suggest we help that along.”
Ruby blinked. “Oh, I say!”
Lady Amelia hopped to her feet, face brightening. “What a lovely idea! You may count on my support!”
“This isn't necessary,” Ruby said, feeling a bubble of panic rising inside her at the thought of them actually helping her. “Lord Danning is quite capable of finding the proper bride without any assistance. Besides, I'm certain you'd both agree that he needs a wife who will do him credit in Society. You cannot believe I am that woman.”
“In my experience,” Henrietta said with arched brow, “the title countess in front of a name solves a host of problems.”
Lady Amelia nodded. “There may be a few high sticklers, like my mother, who will never warm to you, but very likely you will be happier for not knowing them.”
Ruby glanced between them. Henrietta Stokely-Trent was regarding her solemnly, and Lady Amelia now had her graceful hands clasped earnestly.
“I can't believe you,” Ruby said. “You were both so determined to become his countess. Now you're willing to cede that place, to me of all people?”
Lady Amelia resorted to blushing again as she dropped her gaze. “I suppose we have both learned the meaning of love and are unwilling to settle for less. And we have you to thank for that, Miss Hollingsford.”
Henrietta gave Ruby a tight-lipped smile. “Then we are agreed. Lady Amelia will keep Mr. Calder occupied, and I will chaperone Ruby and Danning when needed. That way, we all achieve our goals.”
Lady Amelia looked up to frown at her. “But I thought you and Mr. Calder...”
Henrietta held up a hand. “My father will not settle for less than a title.”
Her face fell. “Oh. Well, I'm very sorry.”
“Nor more sorry than I am, I assure you.” She turned to Ruby. “Now, let's just make sure one of us ends up a bride from all this.”
Just like that, Ruby had allies. The change in their attitudes was as amazing as it was gratifying. Unfortunately, she wasn't so sure spending more time with Whit would make her a bride. He wanted a trusting wife, one who passively waited while he solved the problem. She still wasn't sure she could do that. But she knew she wouldn't be easy until she spoke with him and at least apologized for seeming to question his honor.
Her opportunity did not come until after dinner. Whit appeared in the doorway and looked ready to offer to escort in Lady Amelia, but the blonde deftly managed to avoid him. Ruby found herself walking beside Whit, but with people right behind him she didn't dare begin her apology. His gaze, steadfastly forward, did not encourage her either.
Henrietta had apparently spoken to Mr. Hennessy about rearranging the seating, because when Ruby entered the dining room, she located her name at the seat to Whit's right, with Lady Amelia opposite her and Henrietta beside her. That Ruby had been given the place of honor was lost on no one, and both Lady Wesworth and the Stokely-Trents cast her dark looks as if they thought it her doing.
As if to forestall complaints, Henrietta monopolized the conversation, keeping everyone entertained with her interesting facts and observations. If Charles moped a bit through the meal, only Ruby and the bluestocking seemed to notice.
What Ruby noticed more was the change in Whit. He remained the charming host, helping Lady Amelia and Ruby to the quail in apricot sauce that had been served, adding to the conversation when expected. However, she seldom saw him smile, and he held himself still, poised. She wondered whether he feared any movement might betray his innermost thoughts. His gaze rarely collided with Ruby's, and when it did, she thought she saw something sad behind the purple-blue.
She'd hurt him. The very thought sent an ache through her. She wanted to make things right between them, but how could she be the woman he seemed to expect?
The other two women continued to put Henrietta's plan into effect after dinner. When the gentlemen came to join the ladies in the withdrawing room, Lady Amelia requested Charles's help in selecting music to play on the spinet, which earned her a scowl from her mother. Henrietta engaged Whit in a game of chess, earning her a smile from hers. She kept looking up and nodding to Ruby, trying to encourage her closer. Perhaps she thought Ruby might play the next set.
Ruby felt as if her feet were once more dragging in the mud of the hills. She knew she must approach Whit, request a moment of his time and apologize for what he saw as her lack of faith in him, but she dreaded seeing more disappointment on his handsome face. Perhaps when he'd finished playing, she thought, wandering up to the two players. Very likely Henrietta would give him a good game.
A game that was remarkably short-lived.
“Checkmate,” the bluestocking said after only a few moves.
Whit rose and offered her a bow. “Well played, my dear.”
“I suspect,” she replied, setting the pieces back in their starting places, “your mind is on other matters, my lord.” She looked pointedly at Ruby, standing at her shoulder.
Ruby swallowed. Here was her chance. She should step forward, claim his arm for a promenade about the room, whisk him out the doors to the veranda. Yet her feet seemed planted on the soft brown of the carpet, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
What's wrong with me, Lord? Have I finally become one of those wilting Society women? My teachers at the Barnsley School would be so proud. Yet how can I live this way? Is this what You want?
As if he sensed the struggle in her, Whit stepped closer and held out his arm. “Favor me with a promenade, Miss Hollingsford.”
It was a command, not a request. Ruby raised her brow, but put her hand on his arm nonetheless. Like his demeanor, it was stiff and formal.
He avoided the doors to the veranda on their left and began to walk with her about the little room, headed toward the card table where her father and Mr. Stokely-Trent were playing.
“I am a little surprised you haven't left for London,” he murmured. Ruby's father raised one thumb in support as they passed. Ruby ignored him.
“I would never leave while you are in danger,” she replied.
She could feel the sigh rippling through his body. “Can you not accept my word that Charles is harmless?”
The way his cousin was dutifully turning the pages for Lady Amelia made him appear so, but Ruby knew a fair facade could mask a dark heart.
“I regret that I cannot,” she replied. “I also regret that the way I voiced my suspicions seemed to imply I included you in them. Please know that I hold you in the highest esteem, my lord. You have proved to me that some gentlemen are truly honorable.”
His arm relaxed a little, and his smile to Ruby made her breath hitch and Lady Wesworth grimace as they passed. “Then you concede that it is possible to be both an aristocrat and honorable,” he said.
Ruby felt a smile playing about her lips, as well. “I concede that you are the exception to the rule.”
He chuckled. “I suppose that is a start. When we return to London, I'll have to introduce you to other honorable aristocrats. I'm sure I can find a few.”
Her smile broadened. “Oh, I wouldn't make you work so hard.”