Book Read Free

To Wed A Rebel

Page 2

by Sophie Dash


  “I, well, I suppose it’s tolerable, though it doesn’t match your tolerableness.” Albert beamed, overly pleased at his clumsy compliment. “I never like these events; they’re always too loud and the music too modern. It’s all too heathen for my tastes and anyway…”

  Once Albert began talking, finding Ruth to be a polite listener, he did not stop. Whenever she tried to interject, she was cut off and ushered back into silence. Torches were lit as the sun went down and while Lottie was free to skip off and mingle with other tittering women, Ruth was left to listen to her future husband’s complaints, gripes and moans. From gout to stomach upset, there was no ailment the man did not latch on to. The pair were to be husband and wife. They had a whole lifetime to get to know one another. And yet, as another hour slowly dribbled by, Ruth felt as though she knew everything the man would ever say, think, feel and do.

  It was all arranged, the match agreed, and it would please her uncle. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? She couldn’t rely on her extended family any more. She must accept it. There was no other choice. Albert kept prattling on, and on, and on, while it felt as though a fault line was growing in Ruth’s chest, her ribs, her heart. The smoke was in her eyes; that was all. She didn’t cry, not since she was little, but she was close now, stupidly close – when she’d prided herself on being stronger, better, more removed from her emotions than everyone else. It was all too much, too soon.

  I do not want to be Mrs Pembroke.

  She couldn’t think like that.

  She wasn’t allowed to think like that.

  “Were it not for Godfrey’s Cordial,” continued Albert, “I doubt I’d get any sleep, what with my—”

  “The boats,” interrupted Ruth, attempting a good-natured smile that fell flat. There was a catch in her voice. “Let’s find Lottie and go along the canal, shall we? She’d be terribly disappointed if we left without doing so.”

  Albert pouted heavily, as though she had asked the world and, even if he had it, he would never give it to her. When they were married, it would be different, Ruth told herself. She’d run her own home, she’d have independence, she’d have children. Albert could provide all that. It was a practical, sensible choice…that stuck in her throat like a sharp slice of apple.

  “Yes, a good idea, off with you,” said Osbourne, dismissing the youngest in their party.

  A resigned huff left Albert, before he said, “If we must.”

  In the dying light, the canal looked molten gold. Men and women in their finery rowed themselves along the water, laughing and drinking as they navigated the reeds and narrower stretches. One intoxicated group bumped and scraped the stonework beneath a low bridge as they bobbed by, calling and hooting. The three waited for them to pass – Lottie with amusement, Ruth with concern, and Albert with sheer disapproval – before climbing into their own craft. It dipped alarmingly at Albert’s end and only Ruth’s harsh looks kept Lottie from laughing.

  “It’s not fair. I think the people in the other boat are having far more fun than the rest of us,” observed Lottie.

  “Or they want us to think they are,” said Ruth.

  Lottie was delighted at the opportunity to perch herself in a rowboat and spoke far too quickly for Albert to keep up, and with too much force for him to interrupt. She always chattered away when trying to impress someone and Ruth was grateful that, for once, her friend made an effort on her behalf. Albert nodded along and was already sweating from the small effort it took to wrestle with the oars. Ruth let Lottie’s words fade into background; she’d had years of practice, after all. She trailed her hand in the water, spied pale lilies with petals so thick they could have been made from marzipan, and watched dragonflies dart across the ripples that marked their progress.

  “Did you hear about that awful Miss Ollis, the one who left the academy before us?” continued Lottie, though no one listened. “Ran off to France you know, to become an English tutor. There was a gentleman involved, and I use that term loosely, though heaven knows who’d want her…”

  It won’t be so bad, Ruth reassured herself, as she let her gaze wonder over to Albert. When she’d imagined marriage, she’d hoped for love. Perhaps it had been childish. Her uncle would think so, and she desperately wanted to please him. After all he’d done, with how generous he’d been, she owed it to him to be grateful, to be obedient, to never be a burden…to marry Albert.

  As they approached the bridge, claps and exclamations could be heard from an audience surrounding a performer. Another display, skit or creation. It was their shouts – along with a hard THUMP – that alerted Ruth to the fourth member in their little boat.

  A snake, dropped by its keeper on the bridge, took its bearings. Thick and fat, it began to wind its way along the wood. Albert screamed. It was a high, quivering noise emitted as he bumbled back and – with a comical roll – fell into the canal. The motion jolted the boat dangerously. Ruth clung on, while Lottie scrabbled to climb behind her, sloshing water over their legs.

  “Get it away, get it away,” hissed Lottie, her fan wielded like an offensive weapon. “Do something. Kill it, Ruth.”

  “With what?” It was the harshest response she had ever given her friend and had they not been frightened for their lives, Ruth knew she’d have gotten an earful.

  A pressure smoothed itself along Ruth’s ankle, over her skirts, winding upwards. Shock and fear kept her still as the scaled, dark green monster coiled its way towards her. She looked to Albert for help, only to find he had fled to the nearest bank, dripping profusely, not even casting a glance back. They had been abandoned. Left for dead. No one was coming. No one would help them; no one cared to.

  “Albert,” she called, but he wouldn’t answer, pretended he couldn’t hear. His name felt clumsy on her tongue, as though it didn’t belong there and never would. “Albert, please!”

  A heavy splash showered the two women. Strong, firm hands grabbed their craft and kept it steady.

  “Hold still.” The stranger reached out and easily pulled the snake from Ruth’s gown. He draped it across his shoulders as one would a shawl. “Stay where you are. I will come back and get you.”

  He moved so quickly that Ruth didn’t get a real look at him, only an impression. Tall, dark and controlled. She watched him go, unable to disobey his instructions even if she wanted to.

  The man waded towards dry land and gave the creature back to its handler, who snatched it up and vanished into the mass of spectators, trailing foreign apologies behind him, before any repercussions could follow. True to his word, the stranger returned and eased the boat to a shallow stretch, bumping it into a grassy ledge. The assembled crowd cheered and Ruth felt her cheeks redden, suddenly aware that they were being watched. In fact, it seemed that many party guests assumed the entire scene had been a performance put on for their benefit. Her fear had been entertaining to that faceless, fickle lot.

  God, she couldn’t do this, couldn’t be like this – like them – and they knew it.

  Lottie was the first one to scramble back onto the grass in a sprawling unladylike manner. Her fingers were hard on their rescuer’s forearm and were hastily removed for appearance’s sake, while she muttered darkly about her ruined dress and sought to blame someone for it. Others came to help her, friends, ones Ruth did not share.

  “Come on, love, let’s get you up,” said the man to the forgotten girl, slipping his warm hand into hers and pulling her to her feet. “Steady now, I’ve got you.”

  And he did, for she could not have let go if she tried.

  Speechless, Ruth allowed herself to be guided onto the bank, where Albert – sopping wet – was berating the nearest servant he could find for his “brush with death” and stealing away any attention or concern that might have been offered her way. And although Ruth was coasting away from the crowds, beyond sight and prying eyes, she wanted it. To escape Albert – her future – and Lottie and the awkward conversations with people who did not even care to remember her name.r />
  A stone bench squatted nearby and Ruth was steered towards it. She groped for the cold surface. There was no one to stare here, no quips to reach her, a chance to gather herself. It was almost like solitude, were it not for the man who lingered beside her – an afterthought.

  “I – I don’t understand these people,” she stuttered, after taking a deep breath, fighting to find her calm. “They all stood and watched. I heard them laughing.”

  Mocking ghouls, monstrous smiles, masked intentions.

  “No one even tried to help until you – you – I – I, you’re – forgive me, I haven’t even thanked you,” she forced out, dragging her eyes up to meet the stranger and losing any other words she might have offered.

  This man was not like Albert. Where her future husband was circular, puffy and flappable, this man was the exact opposite: broad shoulders, hard features, dark eyes and tanned skin. There was nothing ridiculous or comical about him at all. No faults, no failings, no foppish tendencies.

  She had not known men could look like that, like the ones from her books. The legends about knights and brave warriors had been fiction, a lie, non-existent, with crumbling illustrations in old yellow tomes. No one real, no one in existence had ever stirred the deeper, darker places in her core. Yet the figure who stood before her was very much flesh and blood.

  A warmth curled in Ruth’s stomach. She felt a blush rise up her neck, and once she knew she was blushing, she blushed further.

  “No thanks are necessary.” The way he stood, shadowed by the fading sun, made it hard for her to see his face. “You were far from danger; the creature was harmless.”

  His clothes were dark and heavy with canal water. They clung to him and invited her gaze.

  He spoke again, disrupting her thoughts – and she was glad for it – for that chance to find her composure. “You have the same expression you wore when confronted with the snake,” he said, his low laugh only adding to the warmth in her cheeks. “Surely I am not that frightening?”

  Lips parted, she shook her head and averted her gaze. Frightening? No, yes, a little, but in all the right ways.

  She needed to speak. It was her turn; it was only polite. Ruth was bad at this. She’d had no practice. She didn’t know what to say. “You have ruined your clothes,” she told him, hating how meek she sounded.

  “I can get new ones.”

  Another silence, further words needed, a space to fill. “We’ve rather ruined the party for you, haven’t we?”

  “There’ll be others.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it. We would have managed, and – and what if you catch a cold?”

  “It will have been worth it,” he remarked, with a curve to his mouth that made her glad she was a small distance from him, for she wanted to lean into it. “Though I had thought you’d be more grateful.”

  “Oh,” she grew pinker still. “Of course, I am entirely—”

  “Forgive me, it was a poor attempt at humour and like I said, you were in no danger.”

  “But you did keep Lottie from knocking the boat over and I cannot swim.”

  “The canal isn’t deep.”

  “Then you saved us from humiliation at least,” she told him, before clamming up entirely, realising she was almost bickering with him, when she had never argued with anyone in her life. And he was – this man, he was – well, quite unlike any other she had ever seen. He was not over fifty, he was not overweight, and he was no straggly youth trying to put worms down her dress. Not like…

  “I need to find Albert,” she remembered, alert, alarmed.

  The thought turned her stomach.

  “Let me help you,” he said, extending a hand that she would not take. If she touched him again… God, she would never want to stop touching him. A mutinous thought crept into her skull: was this what it was meant to be like between a man and a woman?

  “No, I can manage, I—”

  “Ruthie!” On Lottie’s lips, her name sounded like an accusation. The young woman’s red hair was back to its casually coifed place, with her fan wafting feverishly as she breezed towards them. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to our dashing hero?” The question was asked without giving Ruth any time to reply, for Lottie instantly turned to the gentleman in question, her lips pressed together in a wide smile. “Sir, you saved our lives. We are quite in your debt.”

  An odd feeling, akin to envy, lined Ruth’s stomach. It was unwelcome, unwanted and unfamiliar, as she listened in on the conversation she no longer felt a part of. And yet, the stranger met Ruth’s eyes and hers alone, mouth quirking up at the edge: their own secret communication. Though he was attentive enough as he considered Lottie’s words.

  “The rumour is that you are a viscount, while others say you are the mysterious fellow who put this entire evening together. Which is it? You must tell me! Who are you?”

  “Isaac Roscoe.” He inclined his head towards her. “And I am neither, more’s the pity.”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Ruth?” Though the long gown hid Lottie’s shoes, Ruth could have sworn she stamped her feet. “You cannot keep him all to yourself, especially not when you are already engaged.” She emphasized those last two words. The remark was made purely to shame her and she knew it. Mrs Pembroke. That was her future, her unhappiness.

  “I – yes,” mumbled Ruth, almost tripping in her haste to stand up. “This – uh, is my friend Miss Charlotte Griswell.” Isaac’s eyes were a darker brown than Ruth’s own and once she caught them, she knew he’d guessed the paths her imagination had ventured down. A smirk found him, a mocking one that would have been cruel were it not for the mischief there, for the suggestion.

  “What have you done to my dress, Ruthie?” Lottie came between the pair. “It’s beyond stained. It will have to be thrown out.” With a breathy sigh, the redhead angled herself towards the gentleman, conscious as to which position flattered her assets most. “You will have to forgive my friend, Mr Roscoe. This is her first big outing and she’s clearly overwhelmed.”

  “I did not mean to…” interjected Ruth, before she was talked over once more.

  “Unlike myself, she is not used to high society and now I fear we will have scared her off altogether, what with snakes falling from the sky,” continued Lottie, her fan fluttering faster, as though it could bat the other woman away. “We can only be thankful that such dashing individuals are always here to save the day.”

  Isaac’s amusement was all too readable. “On the contrary, I think Miss Osbourne handled herself rather well. Better than others, in fact.”

  Lottie’s smile grew more strained. “Well, we cannot all be so lifeless and stoic, can we? Now, where have I met you before, Mr Roscoe? The O’Neills’ ball? No, the Westcotts’ gathering last December? Wait, I am sure it will come to me…”

  “I fear you are mistaken, madam,” he replied coolly. “Last December I was away on family business and before that I was serving as a lieutenant in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

  Credit where it’s due, Lottie’s warm expression only wavered a fraction. “But I am sure you are coming to Lady Winston’s tomorrow night?”

  “I did find my way to an invitation.”

  “That’s splendid! I shall tell all my friends; they will be terribly excited to hear my rescuer will be in attendance.”

  “Indeed.”

  Lottie opened her eager mouth to speak once more and never got the chance.

  “Do forgive me, but I should go in search of a change in clothes…” said Isaac, singling Ruth out, as though her friend did not exist all, as though a secret lay between them. “I shall look forward to tomorrow.”

  Ruth shook her head, offering a garbled apology combined with another “thank you” that rolled into one word resembling nothing in the English language. Tomorrow. The man only smiled, bowed and took his leave, entirely aware of the pairs of eyes that followed him.

  “I cannot believe it.”

  “Yes, it is odd,” said Ruth q
uietly, her hands bunched together. “I am sure I never told him my surname and yet he already seemed to know it.”

  “Never mind all that. It’s not fair,” huffed Lottie, snapping her fan closed with a slap against her palm. “You have already secured yourself a husband and now you are snatching up all the handsome men here too, even in that ugly gown?”

  “You lent me this dress.”

  “Did I? God, that snake was ghastly.” She flinched at the memory. “At least it proved that Albert is good at one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He’s going to make sure someone gets punished for what happened, of course.”

  “I am certain it was an accident—”

  “Only the wealthy have accidents. In the lower classes it’s almost always carelessness. Now, come along, let’s eat.” Lottie hooked her arm around Ruth’s. “You will have to try the foreign dishes in case they’re spicy. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself.”

  “And I do?”

  “Don’t fuss so much, Ruthie.” Lottie patted her sharply, as one would a dog. “Tell me everything that Mr Roscoe said to you after you stole him away. He’s far too attractive and he clearly knows it. I am sure I’ve heard that name before. Someone here has to know him. I won’t rest until I’ve found out. I bet he’s rich – single too. The handsome ones always are. Can you imagine being engaged to him?”

  “No,” said Ruth, too quickly. “I can’t.”

  Though her mind had already spun a different tale. A wedding night, where it was not the sweaty, sallow Albert she lay with, but Isaac and his dark eyes and his strong hands and his warm mouth…

  ***

  Lady Winston’s orangery was a much-admired structure in Richmond. It contained a whole variety of exotic plants and was only one small corner of the elderly woman’s newly renovated grounds. Londoners were keen to bask in anything that resembled rural life, especially if it was far easier to access than the actual countryside, contained no wild animals or commoners (“I don’t think there’s a difference,” Lottie had once commented), and still held all the delights of town. A late-afternoon garden tour had been arranged for a select few – an hour before a ball was due to begin – and Ruth found herself invited by chance due to her friendship with the Griswells. She had stayed with the family the night before and thankfully had her own room.

 

‹ Prev