Dark Ruby (Ransomed Jewels)

by Laura Landon

  “Take care of him? Does His Lordship need special care?”

  Mrs. Brown shook her head. “No, of course not. Forget I said anything, dearie. I simply meant Temple Hall is a wonderful place to work.”

  Isobel looked at the flush on Mrs. Brown’s face, then turned when Mrs. Brown scurried away from her. She had a lot to consider yet tonight.

  Her entire future.

  Chapter 2

  “Do you think she’ll accept the post?” Alex asked his butler. He didn’t really care whether Mrs. Moore accepted the position of housekeeper or not, except that if she filled the role of housekeeper, it would remove one more item off his list of things he had to do. Having a housekeeper was essential for a well-run home.

  “It was difficult to tell,” Holmes said as he removed the pot of tepid tea and replaced it with a fresh, hot pot. “Mrs. Moore wasn’t exactly what I’d expected.”

  Alex closed the ledger he’d been working on and opened another. This ledger showed the receipts and expenses for the new breed of sheep he’d purchased because of a special blend of wool they produced. He hoped to establish a reputation that would make him one of the largest wool producers in England. “Why do you say she wasn’t what you expected?” he asked as he studied the entries. “Is there something you don’t trust about the woman?”

  “No, my lord. Oh no. It’s just that I assumed someone in her position would leap at the offer of a new position, but she didn’t. She possessed a great deal more courage than I expected.”

  “You weren’t impressed by that?”

  “It’s not that I wasn’t impressed.” Holmes smiled. “I believe I was. Inordinately so. It’s just that I pride myself on my ability to evaluate a person upon meeting them, and I was unable to draw any definite conclusions concerning Mrs. Moore.”

  “Perhaps that’s because there’s nothing to understand,” Alex said, pleased with the numbers displayed in his ledger.

  “Oh no, my lord. It’s only that I believe there’s more to Mrs. Moore than meets the eye. And I don’t know what it is. She’s quite adept at not revealing any more than she wants to reveal.”

  “You’ve intrigued me, Holmes. I hope this Mrs. Moore accepts the position, if only to provide you with a challenge.” Alex closed his ledgers and took out a piece of paper. He’d promised his sister, Claire, that he’d write as soon as he arrived at Temple Hall. It had been more than a week since he’d left London, and he hadn’t written her yet. Which was unconscionable of him.

  After all, it was his sister’s own husband, Major Samuel Bennett, who had rescued him when that blackguard Rosenau had left him in chains to die. Alex knew how worried she’d been. Knew she’d noticed the change in him since he’d been held captive. Knew that he wasn’t the same as he’d been before his captivity. But that was a time he tried to forget.

  That was why he’d left London. Why he was desperate to leave everything that had happened behind him. So he could forget. In hopes he could erase from his mind the sordid things to which he’d been subjected. So he could heal and was no longer a threat to anyone around him.

  Alex reached for the tea Holmes had poured and took a swallow. He prayed his butler didn’t notice the trembling of his hands. Damn Roseneau. Damn him to hell.

  “Are you all right, my lord?”

  Alex looked at his trembling hand and the tea that had sloshed over the rim of his cup. “Yes, fine, Holmes. I wasn’t watching what I was doing.”

  Alex set his cup back in the saucer and crumpled the tea-splattered piece of paper on his desk, then threw it into the fire. He watched it curl as the flames consumed it and thought of the joy he would feel if that paper were Monsieur Roseneau, and Alex could destroy him as completely.

  But that wasn’t possible.

  “I think you are improving, my lord,” Holmes said, dabbing at the drops of tea on the desk. “Coming to Temple Hall was just what you needed. You’ll be well in no time.”

  Alex prayed that was true. He wasn’t sure how long he could survive if the nightmares continued.

  He shook his head to clear it and focused again on the concerned expression on his butler’s face. “What were we talking about, Holmes?”

  “Mrs. Moore, my lord. The new housekeeper.”

  “Ah yes. Have you perhaps formed a fascination with the lady, Holmes?”

  “Oh no, my lord. Nothing like that. Heavens, the lass is young enough to be my daughter.”

  Alex lifted his head. “And you offered her the position of housekeeper?”

  “Yes, my lord. You’ll understand why once you meet her. If she takes the post, that is.”

  “Well, we’ll know soon,” Alex said, sliding back his chair and going to the window. “George has returned with the carriage, and . . .” he watched as the driver jumped to the ground and opened the carriage door. “It seems your Mrs. Moore has taken the position.” Alex turned to see his butler’s expression, but Holmes was already out of the room and waiting at the front door to welcome their new housekeeper.

  Alex watched Mrs. Moore step from the carriage. Each step the lady took was grace personified. She held her head high and her shoulders back. The black bonnet she wore hid her face from his view, but he knew that she would be a handsome woman. No female lacking in looks carried herself with such confidence.

  He found that he was anxious to meet her. Something about the way she carried herself explained why Holmes was so intrigued by her.

  Alex watched their new housekeeper until she was out of sight. Then he listened as Holmes greeted her. He turned to catch sight of the woman who’d intrigued Holmes so.

  “Lord Halverston,” Holmes said. “May I introduce Mrs. Daisy Moore. She has agreed to take the position as housekeeper of Temple Hall. Mrs. Moore, your employer, the Marquess of Halverston.”

  “Mrs. Moore. Please, come in.”

  The housekeeper stepped across the room and executed a perfect curtsy. “Lord Halverston.”

  Her voice was pleasant, and she spoke with a self-assurance that impressed him. There was nothing timid in the manner in which she approached him, and he believed his butler might well be correct in his belief that Mrs. Moore was perfectly suited for the position.

  She wasn’t overly tall, but neither was she short. He imagined that if she stood close to him, the top of her head would come just beneath his chin.

  She wasn’t overly thin, but filled out her black dress in all the right places, although her attributes didn’t matter to him in the least. Only her ability to do her job.

  Her gown wasn’t new. If this was the best she had, she would need a new wardrobe. He made a mental note to speak with Holmes about making arrangements for her to be fitted.

  He shifted his gaze upward and found her concentrating on his face. She tipped her head to the side and lifted her auburn eyebrows.

  “Do I meet with your approval, my lord?”

  Her question caught him off guard, and he wanted to smile. “Yes, you do, Mrs. Moore. But your appearance isn’t what needs to meet my approval. Your ability to run my household is.”

  “Then you should have no cause for concern, my lord. I have had ample experience running a household.”

  “At your age?”

  “Yes, my lord. At my age.”

  Alex held back the comment he wanted to make. Instead, he pointed to one of the chairs angled in front of his desk to indicate he wanted her to sit.

  Mrs. Moore sat as gracefully as any lady in Society, then folded her hands in her lap.

  Alex sat in the chair angled behind his desk and focused on what little he could see of Mrs. Moore’s face. At a glance, he thought there was something familiar about her. But, of course, there couldn’t be. He doubted he could describe even one housekeeper in any home in London.

  “How is it that you find yourself to be alone in the village, Mrs. Moore?”

  “As you have no doubt heard, I was traveling with Lady Culver. When her ladyship became ill, we stopped at the Thorn and Briar. M
rs. Brown sent for a doctor to see to her ladyship, but there was nothing he could do.”

  Mrs. Moore’s voice sounded more husky than before, and unless he was mistaken, her eyes filled with tears. “Had you been with Lady Culver long?”

  “Several years,” Mrs. Moore answered, then lowered her gaze. A tear spilled from her eyes and dropped upon her hands clasped in her lap. “She was a very special lady. I’d grown quite fond of her.”

  Alex rose from his chair and handed Mrs. Moore an expertly monogramed handkerchief, then walked to the window. The lady needed a moment to compose herself, and since he wasn’t sure how to cope with female emotions, he separated himself from her. “What would you have done if you’d chosen not to take me up on my offer as housekeeper at Temple Hall?” he said after several moments.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered after a lengthy hesitation. “I imagine continue on my way to Scotland, as Lady Culver had planned. I’m sure I could have found work there as easily.”

  Alex knew she was probably right.

  “But I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet,” she added.

  Alex turned. “Do you have family, Mrs. Moore?”

  She shook her head.

  “None?”

  She lifted her head slowly and locked her gaze with his. “No, my lord. I have no family.”

  He took in her words, her tone, her demeanor, and a worrisome notion began to form in his mind. The lady could have told him that her only living relative was the Queen of England and he would have believed her. How could he doubt her when he glimpsed the most perfect face he was sure God had ever created? How could he think she might be lying when he felt as if he could drown in eyes so dark they seemed bottomless?

  His breath caught, and the floor seemed to shift beneath his feet. He knew he could never forget a face as remarkable as hers. And in that stunning moment, he considered the possibility that he might have seen her face before. But he couldn’t remember where. Or when.

  “Have you been to London lately?” he asked. He knew that’s where he’d seen her, but he was sure it wasn’t as anyone’s housekeeper.

  “Not lately, no.”

  Alex listened to the hesitancy in her voice, the lack of conviction in her words. She didn’t make a very convincing liar. She may not have been in London in the past few days, but he was sure she’d been there in recent weeks. Perhaps within this past week.

  “And are you fond of visiting London when circumstances allow?”

  She lifted her chin in defiance. “If you are afraid I will run off to London the first chance I have, my lord, you may put your concerns to rest. I have no desire to return to London now or in the future.”

  Alex sat back in his chair and studied her. He’d seen her before. He knew he had, but he simply couldn’t draw it to mind. One thing he knew for certain: he doubted she was Lady Culver’s housekeeper. And for pity’s sake, no woman with her obvious breeding would have been saddled with the name Daisy.

  He looked at her worn gown and couldn’t believe that black and white were colors she customarily wore. She belonged in bright colors and fancy ball gowns. He was confident that’s how she’d been dressed when he’d seen her before.

  “Is there anything else, Lord Halverston?” she asked, pulling him back from the fringes of his thoughts.

  “No, Mrs. Moore. That will be all.” He rose, and she did, as well. “Holmes will show you to your room. After you’ve settled in, he’ll show you around Temple Hall. Let Holmes know if something is not to your satisfaction.”

  “I’m sure everything will be more than adequate, my lord. Good day,” she said with a polite bob.

  She turned, and Alex caught a fleeting glimpse of her profile. The knowledge that he’d seen her before struck him with greater certainty.

  She kept her back straight and her head high as she made her way across the room. Acquiring a carriage so perfect was something afforded only to well-bred ladies. Speaking so eloquently was something reserved for females who’d been trained in proper etiquette.

  Suddenly, Alex knew Mrs. Moore hadn’t been trained to be a housekeeper. She’d been in charge of hiring housekeepers. She knew what was demanded of a housekeeper not because she’d had experience being a housekeeper, but because she’d been trained to oversee a housekeeper.

  Alex watched the woman pretending to be Daisy Moore as she neared the door. Her hand trembled when she reached for the knob. He knew if she left the room, he’d never see her again.

  “Stop, Lady Isobel.”

  Chapter 3

  Isobel halted at the door. Her first instinct was to run. She needed to get as far from the Marquess of Halverston as possible.

  He knew her identity. Knew she wasn’t Daisy Moore.

  He rose, then stepped around his desk.

  He was taller than he’d seemed before. He appeared more menacing. The dark frown that furrowed across his forehead deepened.

  She tightened her grip on the doorknob.

  “I wouldn’t, my lady. Our conversation isn’t finished.” He stopped beside the chair she’d just vacated and waited for her to return.

  Isobel knew she should be frightened, and a part of her was. Not for her safety, because she was sure he wouldn’t harm her. Nor was she frightened because she feared he would turn her over to the authorities. She was frightened for another reason—that he would contact her father and force her to return to him.

  Isobel hesitated, then realized she had no choice. She dropped her hands to her sides and slowly stepped toward him on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her.

  She sat when she reached the chair and clasped her hands in her lap. “How did you know me?”

  “You and your sister, Lady . . . um . . . ”

  “Vanessa,” she finished for him.

  “Yes, Lady Vanessa. You and your sister attended the opera with my sister, Lady Claire, and her husband, Major Samuel Bennett. If I remember correctly, you were accompanied by your father, the Earl of Gilchrist, and the Marquess of Partmoore.”

  Of course. Isobel remembered attending the opera, although she didn’t remember meeting the Marquess of Halverston. She remembered very little of that night except how uncomfortable she’d felt being paraded around on the marquess’s arm. He’d been congenial and kind, but distracted almost to the point of embarrassment. And she knew why. To make matters even more vexatious, her father stopped to introduce them to every acquaintance he met, as if the marriage contract between her and Lord Partmoore had already been signed and validated.

  But what caused that night to be such a painful experience was watching the tears slip from her sister’s eyes and stream down her cheeks. Vanessa had pretended to be happy, even though it was evident her heart was breaking. Their father had chosen Isobel to marry the man Vanessa loved.

  Isobel looked up and caught Lord Halverston’s assessing gaze. “I forgot you stopped to greet your sister.”

  “It’s regrettable that I made such a forgettable impression. Otherwise, you would have been forewarned and declined my offer.”

  “Yes,” Isobel sighed. “Regrettable.”

  The Marquess of Halverston walked to a sideboard where several full decanters sat neatly arranged. He pulled the stopper from one and poured a small amount of liquor into a glass. On the way back, he stopped at a tea tray on the corner of his desk and poured tea into a cup. He turned to face her and extended both hands.

  “The choice is yours. Take whichever one you’d like.”

  Isobel was tempted to take the liquor, but she wasn’t that experienced with intoxicating drink, and it wasn’t yet noon. She took the cup of tea.

  She watched his reaction, but she couldn’t tell if her choice surprised him or impressed him.

  “I assume Mrs. Daisy Moore was the woman who died,” he said when he resumed his seat behind the desk.

  She nodded.

  “What relation was she to you?”

  “No relation. She was my nurse and had taken care of m
y sister and me since our mother died.”

  “Where were you headed?”

  “Scotland.”

  His eyebrows rose. “And your reason for going to Scotland?”

  Isobel lowered her gaze and stared at her hands clutched in her lap.

  “Our conversation would go much more smoothly,” the Marquess of Halverston said, “if you would volunteer answers to the questions you know I’m going to ask, instead of forcing me to ask them repeatedly.”

  “Or, you could realize that where I was going, and why, are none of your concern, and allow me to leave.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin, but the expression it created wasn’t one of humor.

  “Does your father know you are on your way to Scotland?”

  Isobel opened her mouth to tell him he did, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her lie.

  “Where does he think you are?”

  Isobel lowered her gaze, and time stretched uncomfortably while he waited for her to answer.

  “Bloody hell, woman. Do you know how worried he must be? And what about Partmoore? You’ll be fortunate if you can salvage a match after the stunt you pulled.”

  “Perhaps it is not my goal to salvage a match.”

  His surprise was evident. “Am I correct in assuming that you intentionally fled to avoid a match between yourself and Lord Partmoore?”

  Isobel couldn’t admit that’s what she’d done. With trembling hands, she placed her full cup on the desk in front of her.

  He took one sip from his glass, then another. Finally he set the empty glass on the desk and leveled her a penetrating glare. “What are your plans now, my lady?”

  “I will continue as before. All I require is a conveyance that will take me to the Thorn and Briar. I will avail myself of the next coach that goes through to the north.”

  He swiped his hand across his face. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to travel unescorted, Lady Isobel. When your father discovers that I allowed you to travel without a chaperone, I will be defending my honor in some remote meadow at dawn.”