Dark Ruby (Ransomed Jewels)

by Laura Landon

  “We’ll have to make an effort, then, to return to our normal patterns tomorrow.”

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  Alex leaned back in his chair and studied her while she recovered from the shock he’d given her. When the wine had restored color returned to her cheeks, he placed his glass on the desk.

  She looked up, and he found himself staring into those same dark-brown eyes. He still thought he could drown in their depths.

  “What were your plans, my lady?”

  “My plans were to escape to Scotland. I only need to stay out of my father’s reach for three months. By then I will have reached my majority. Not only will father lose legal control of me, but on my twenty-first birthday I will come into an inheritance left me by my maternal grandmother. It’s not a fortune but will be enough to provide for me if I live frugally.”

  “So, your plan was to escape until you reached your majority.”

  “Yes.”

  “How have you managed to get this far without your father catching up with you?”

  “Father assumes I went to London.”

  “Why would he believe you headed for London?”

  “Because that’s what my sister would have told him, when he finally forced her.”

  “It sounds as if you put a great deal of thought into your plan to escape.”

  “My maid, Daisy, and I prepared for our escape down to the last detail. We would have arrived in Scotland by now if she hadn’t taken ill.”

  Lady Isobel lowered her head, but not before Alex glimpsed the sadness in her eyes.

  “Please, start at the beginning, my lady.”

  She lifted her wine to her lips and took a small sip. “It was evident to both Vanessa and myself that there was a motive to Father’s interest in Lord Partmoore the moment Father introduced us. Unfortunately, I was the one Father intended for Lord Partmoore, while Vanessa was the one attracted to him. And he to her.

  “Their fascination with each other was obvious to anyone who saw the way they looked at one another when they thought no one was watching. The way Lord Partmoore found excuses to sit close to Vanessa when he came to call, or wrote his name on her dance card for the dance before dinner, so he’d be able to escort her, then sit beside her. Perhaps no one else noticed, but I did.”

  Lady Isobel studied her hands in her lap. “At first I wasn’t concerned. I was certain I could convince Father that Vanessa was the best choice for Partmoore. And I did. But that changed when I overheard Father tell my uncle that he would allow Vanessa to marry Lord Partmoore, and I would marry the Duke of Balsam.”

  “Did you tell your father that you knew what he planned? Did you tell him what kind of man the Duke of Balsam was?”

  “Oh yes,” she admitted with a tragic smile on her face. “But he wouldn’t listen. He insisted the rumors of Balsam’s violent temper were just that. Rumors. We argued. I told him that I’d seen evidence of his temper. I told him that Balsam was responsible for Genevieve’s death.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He made excuses for the murderer. He said that Genevieve must have provoked him. That her death was a warning for me to curb my sharp tongue, or the same would happen to me when I became the Duchess of Balsam.”

  Alex clenched his fingers around the arms of his chair. If the Earl of Gilchrist were within reach, Alex would do the man physical harm. “Was that when you and your maid initiated your plan to run away?”

  “Yes. Daisy purchased a rundown cart and a small pony with money I’d saved and hid it behind an empty crofter’s cottage. Every day she would sneak small amounts of clothes and belongings we’d set aside for the journey and store them in the cart. When it was time to leave, I told Vanessa that I was running away. I told her I was going to London and made her promise not to tell Father. I knew Father would break her down, and she’d eventually tell him where I’d gone.”

  “Which wasn’t where you were at all.”

  Lady Isobel shook her head. “I told her to stand up to Father and refuse to marry anyone except Lord Partmoore.”

  “Do you think she’ll be able to find the courage to do that?”

  “I pray it won’t take that much courage. Father needs Lord Partmoore’s ships more than he needs the Duke of Balsam’s influence. I pray he yielded easily.”

  “Then you left?”

  “Yes. Daisy drove the cart herself. We left during the night, and for the first two days we stayed away from the main roads and didn’t travel where we’d meet anyone. On the third day, we stopped at a small inn and sold the cart and pony, then took the mail coach that left that afternoon.

  “We traveled two more days before I noticed Daisy didn’t appear well. She seemed pale and more lethargic. Of course, she told me I was imagining it, but I knew I wasn’t. Finally, she admitted she wasn’t well, and we stopped at the Thorn and Briar. The rest you know.”

  Alex rose from his chair and walked to the window. He couldn’t imagine the courage it took for her to run away. Couldn’t imagine the danger in which she’d placed herself. He turned to face her. “Did you have a destination in mind?”

  The sad smile on her face matched the slow back-and-forth turn of her head. “Daisy was concerned about that, but I told her we’d know when we’d gone far enough.”

  Alex watched out the window, although he couldn’t have said what he was looking at. Nothing in particular. He just used the time to think.

  His plan had been to send for Lord Gilchrist and hand his daughter over to him. But how could he when he knew her fate?

  Finally, he turned. “You realize I can’t allow you to travel on alone.”

  “I realize that I will find a way to escape if you try to hold me captive,” she answered.

  “I would never hold you captive,” he said more forcefully than he intended. He’d been held captive. He would never be so cruel to another person.

  “Then you will allow me to leave?”

  Alex saw the slight lift of her chin. He admired her courage. He also hated to dash her hopes, but that is what he had to do.

  He shook his head. “You know I cannot.”

  Her shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “I can’t go back,” she whispered. “At least not for three months.”

  “Perhaps your father can be convinced that—”

  Her reaction was swift and forceful. “Do not even suggest I return. Don’t suggest I try to persuade my father to abandon his plan for one of us to marry Balsam. Father is impossible to reason with. He always has been. Especially when there is the possibility of achieving something that will increase his wealth or his influence. And membership in the Fortune Club will certainly do that.”

  Lady Isobel bolted to her feet and took a step toward him. “Do you have any idea what it would be like to be held captive in a marriage you find unbearable?” she asked.

  Her question slammed against his gut as if she’d physically struck him. Although he swore he wouldn’t think of his time in captivity, it was impossible not to recall those horrifying weeks.

  “Can you imagine how terrifying it would be to know that at any moment your husband could strike you hard enough to kill you?”

  Alex clasped his fingers around the window’s wooden frame and held tight. His body broke out in a cold sweat that threatened to bring him to his knees.

  Yes, he wanted to scream. He knew what it was like to be beaten so severely he feared the next blow might kill him.

  “Do you know how hopeless it would be to yearn for freedom and in the end realize that death would be your only means of escape?”

  He turned in time to see a tear escape from her eye and trickle down her cheek.

  “I couldn’t endure a life like that. It’s not possible,” she whispered.

  He looked at her and knew there was only one choice open to him. Sending her back when he knew her fate wasn’t an option. Allowing her to travel on, even with a companion, wasn’t an option either. Which only left one other possibility.


  Alex stepped away from the window and returned to his chair behind his desk. “You need not fear that I will send for your father, or inform him of your whereabouts. I agree that you wouldn’t be safe if you returned.”

  Her relief was evident. “Will you allow me to continue on to Scotland, then?”

  He shook his head. “No. You will stay here. At least until you reach your majority.”

  “Here? But—”

  He raised his hand to halt her words. “Were you serious when you applied for the position of housekeeper?”

  “Yes, but . . . ”

  “Then, as far as the staff is concerned, that is your position here. You will go by the name Mrs. Moore and assume a housekeeper’s duties. I will, of course, assign one of the more capable staff to assist you, since I can’t in all good conscience allow someone of your breeding to work as a common servant.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You are wrong if you think it beneath me to hold the position of housekeeper. Gilchrist Manor was filled with staff members who possessed more integrity in their little finger than the nobility they were forced to serve.”

  Alex wanted to smile. “Your point is well taken, my lady. But please, humor me in this. We both know that you will not be the housekeeper at Temple Hall forever. That would be impossible. Therefore, when you leave, I want to know someone has already been trained to take your place.”

  “Very well,” she answered after a slight hesitation. “But I refuse to be treated any differently than you would any other housekeeper. I will do what is expected of me.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Alex pushed himself from his chair and walked to the door. His butler stood in the hall when he opened the door, which didn’t surprise him. Holmes had probably heard every word he and Lady Isobel had said, but that didn’t matter. Lady Isobel’s real identity wasn’t something Alex could keep to himself. Holmes would have to know in time.

  “Holmes, would you show Mrs. Moore to her room?”

  “Yes, my lord. To the housekeeper’s room, my lord?” his butler said beneath his breath. “Or perhaps a room farther separated from the rest of the staff?”

  “Whatever you think best, Holmes,” he said.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Alex returned to where Lady Isobel still sat in her chair, and waited until she rose. “Holmes will show you to your room, Mrs. Moore. After you’ve unpacked and rested a bit, he’ll show you around the house and introduce you to the staff. Don’t hesitate to ask should you have any questions.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Lady Isobel bobbed a polite curtsy as if she were indeed Mrs. Moore, the housekeeper, then left the room.

  Alex waited until the door closed behind his new housekeeper, then lowered himself in his chair behind his desk and swallowed the whiskey that remained in his glass. What in bloody hell was he doing? How could he think that anything good would come from allowing the daughter of the Earl of Gilchrist to fill the position of housekeeper at Temple Hall? What would happen if Society discovered that Lady Isobel had stayed in his home without benefit of a chaperone?

  He shoved himself to his feet and walked across the room. He poured a generous amount of whiskey into his glass and took a swallow. He’d never made such a foolish decision in his life. Yet how could he turn her out. How could he consign her to the very hell he’d endured.

  The hell that caused endless nightmares that refused to go away.

  Chapter 5

  Isobel rose at the daybreak as she had for the past six days. Today marked exactly one week since she’d assumed the duties of housekeeper for the Marquess of Halverston. Six days since she’d taken on a new identity. And she found she was quite content in her new role.

  It was comforting to know that each morning when she rose, there were certain duties she was required to perform. She made a point to stop by in the staff dining hall each morning for a cup of tea. Her intent was to issue any special instructions for the day and to allow the staff to get to know her, to consider her one of them. As far as the staff was concerned, she was Mrs. Moore, and she didn’t want anyone to think she considered herself above them.

  She also knew that listening to the exchanges between the various servants, whether upstairs maids, Cook, scullery maids and hallboys, or any one of the numerous footmen, their conversations would tell her a great deal of the workings of Temple Hall.

  It might also give her greater insight into the man who’d hired her and what had been so important to pull him away from London at the height of the Season, when the House of Lords was in session. There were hints of their concern for their employer—a man they greatly admired—as well as quiet whispers that they hoped the time His Lordship spent in the country would lead to his improvement.

  Isobel recalled the few times she’d seen him in the past six days and assured herself that if he was ill, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, he seemed unquestionably vibrant and healthy and—she tried to ignore the traitorous beating of her heart—handsome beyond belief.

  This morning the staff seemed especially jovial. Cook had seen Toby, a tall, dark-haired footman, and Nell, one of the upstairs maids, holding hands in the garden last evening. Everyone teased the couple because, even though they’d denied having feelings for each other, it was obvious they did.

  Nell’s face beamed a bright red, and a matching red slowly crept up Toby’s neck.

  Isobel tried to hide her amusement, but it was difficult. Since most of the staff at Temple Hall had come from the surrounding countryside, they’d no doubt known each other for years. Isobel envied them their familiarity and their camaraderie, as well as the ease with which they got along with each other. The only time she’d heard the staff at Gilchrist Manor laugh was when her father was away from the estate.

  The only time she and Vanessa ever laughed with each other was when they were out of their father’s hearing. And even then it wasn’t always safe, as one of their father’s spies would report that they hadn’t been serious in their demeanor.

  Isobel slowly sipped the last of the tea in her cup and thought of Vanessa. She wondered how she was surviving. She wondered how things were progressing between her younger sister and Lord Partmoore, and if the earl had continued his suit. She hoped so. Vanessa wouldn’t be out of danger until she was betrothed to Partmoore.

  Isobel placed her cup on the table, a signal for the staff to begin their day. In unison they rose from the table.

  “Agnes,” Isobel said to the upstairs maid who shared duties with Nell. “The blue bedroom needs a good airing, and the rugs beaten. And the silver in the formal dining room needs to be polished,” she said, focusing on the head footman.

  “Yes, Mrs. Moore,” the servants answered in unison. They greeted her politely, then left the staff dining hall.

  Isobel turned to Cook before she returned to the kitchen. “Cook, may I have a word?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Moore.”

  Although Isobel knew the cooks that worked in the town houses of London’s nobility came in all shapes and sizes, Temple Hall’s cook was exactly what Isobel though of when she envisioned the person who’d prepared the delicious meals Isobel had enjoyed since coming to Temple Hall. She was on the short side, as bit plump, and she had a smattering of gray in her light-brown hair.

  She wore a cap that rested on the bun at the back of her head and a white apron that was never white by the time the noon meal was served. Her cheeks were usually flushed, whether because of the heat from the ovens, or from the numerous times she laughed at something one of the kitchen helpers said, Isobel wasn’t sure. Cook was simply a happy person. Her cheerful nature was infectious.

  Cook followed Isobel down the hall to the last door before entering the gallery that led to the main part of the house. This was a room set aside for the housekeeper, where Isobel could work on the household ledgers and where she went to make a list of the household supplies that need to be ordered. Isobel unlocked the door with one of
the many keys on the ring of keys she carried, then opened the door and went inside. She motioned for Cook to take the chair located beside her desk.

  “Is something wrong, Mrs. Moore?” Cook asked when she took her chair.

  Isobel smiled. “Not at all, Cook. Temple Hall is one of the most well-run homes I’ve ever lived . . . um . . . worked in. The staff is to be congratulated. Especially you, because I know you assumed many of Mrs. Franklin’s duties when she could no longer perform them.”

  A smile lit Cook’s round face. “Thank you, Mrs. Moore.”

  “I also know that often it’s not easy for a staff to adjust to a new housekeeper. But you made me feel welcome from the moment I came.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Moore. You haven’t been hard to adjust to. Nell and Agnes say you’re as good a housekeeper as Mrs. Franklin. And that’s high praise indeed.”

  “Thank you, Cook. And I’d like for Temple Hall to continue running smoothly. Which is why I’d like to ask your help.”

  “My help? With what?”

  “With Lord Halverston’s routine. When he is in residence, what is his usual routine?”

  “Oh,” Cook said, then smiled. “His Lordship is easy to please. One might even say he’s a bit predictable.”

  “Predictable?”

  “Yes. He likes coffee with his breakfast. No milk or sugar. He eats a hearty meal in the morning with well-cooked coddled eggs and ham and bacon and toast with marmalade. Most times he has a healthy appetite, His Lordship does. When he’s finished eating, he almost always goes to his study to work on his books, or whatever else needs doing. Then, at midmorning, he wants his tea.” Cook smiled. “And a pastry.” Cook gave her a nod and a wink. “He’s ’specially fond of my peach tarts.”

  Isobel couldn’t help but smile at how pleased Cook was that His Lordship liked her pastry.

  “Mrs. Franklin used to take him his tea every morning, but I took over that duty when she left.”

  “I see,” Isobel said.

  “I imagine you’ll want to take His Lordship his tea, now that you know.”