“I wasn’t aware that I answered to you as to where I spend my nights, my lord.” She undid the frog loops of her cape, and as it slid from her shoulders, she handed it to Dolores.
“You don’t answer to me. I’m simply saying I was worried,” he said fiercely, his posture revealing his tension.
With a light touch of reassurance to Dolores’s arm, she moved toward the salon doorway. Bergamot mixed with spice wafted beneath her nostrils as she brushed past him, and she crushed the emotions the scent stirred inside her. When she reached the center of the room, she turned to face him.
Her heart skipped a beat as he slowly closed the salon door to lean against it. Arms folded across his chest, he studied her with a watchful gaze. His silence didn’t make her nervous, but the predatory tension in his tall frame did. Despite the distance between them, her awareness of him was heightened to a fevered pitch that made every inch of her tingle. Even from several feet away he was the one in control. She drew in a quick breath then released it as she cleared her throat.
“I met your sister today.”
He didn’t move, but the sudden tic in his cheek said her statement had thrown him slightly off balance. However, it wasn’t the startled reaction she was looking for. Had he talked with Lady Lynmouth already? Was that why he didn’t appear surprised?
“Which sister? I have two.” His cool response reminded her of his sister.
“Lady Lynmouth. An acquaintance introduced us.” Ruth clenched her teeth as she remembered the private conversation that had followed Mr. Millstadt’s introduction. “She appears to be under the impression that I’m pursuing you.”
“I see.” He pushed himself away from the door and slowly closed the distance between them. “I can assume you corrected her on that issue.”
“I tried, but she’s determined to believe that I’m the older woman leading you into hell and damnation.”
Ruth glanced away from him as she remembered the way his sister had emphasized her age for the majority of their conversation. She didn’t need anyone to remind her that time was her enemy or that becoming involved with a younger man was a desperate attempt to cling to her youth—friendship or love affair aside. She tensed as he stopped less than a foot away from her.
“We both know you’re not.” The soft caress in his voice made her heart skip a beat, and she stiffened at the traitorous way her body reacted to him.
“You lied to me,” she bit out in a tight voice. He jerked his head back in surprise.
“Come again?”
“You told me you didn’t want Crawley Hall, but that’s not what your sister said.” Her sharp tone made him frown with exasperation.
“My sister needs to learn her place and not interfere in my affairs,” he growled as a frown of annoyance creased his brow. “If I had told you the truth, you would have been as angry with me then as you are now.”
“Angry?” She shook her head sharply, the strength of her emotions surprising her. “I’m furious. First you offer to buy the Hall for me. When I refuse, you decide to take pity on me and help me acquire the estate by not bidding against me.”
“I did not do what I did out of pity,” he growled.
“No? Then why did your sister think I was planning on retiring to the country—permanently?” She flinched as she remembered the countess saying they’d discussed her. “Don’t bother answering the question. I already know. You told her all about me. She said so herself.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about my motivations and actions after just one conversation with my sister.” His voice was a menacing rumble as fury made his eyes a piercing blue.
“Don’t try to deny the fact that you discussed me with your sister,” she snapped.
“I won’t deny that your name was mentioned. But I said nothing about the conversation you and I had at Crawley Hall.” He scowled as he leaned into her. “I simply told Lily that we were friends.”
“She didn’t believe you.” Ruth held her ground, unwilling to let him see he was intimidating her. Her heart slammed into her chest as an odd expression crossed Garrick’s face.
“I don’t give a damn what she believes. What do you believe?”
7
“I . . . I don’t know what you mean,” Ruth gasped as she stared up at Garrick’s suddenly inscrutable features.
“You know exactly what I mean, Ruth. You’ve balked at having anything to do with me from the beginning. I’d like to know why.”
“I have not balked, as you call it, at an association with you,” she snapped. “I accepted your friendship, and yet I’m still not sure that’s what you really want from me.”
“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that a man could enjoy the pleasure of your company without any expectations on his part?” he asked with harsh frustration. She stared at him, disconcerted by her sudden, fervent wish that he ask her for something more than just friendship.
“Because I’ve learned over time that everyone has expectations—even young men who offer me friendship.” Her body tensed as an odd expression crossed his face.
“Emphasizing that I’m younger than you doesn’t change the fact that I find you witty, intelligent, and in possession of the extraordinary ability to make me laugh,” he said as he shoved his hand through his hair in an exasperated manner.
“Required traits of my position in Society.”
“Christ Jesus, you’re a stubborn little mule. I don’t believe for one minute that those so-called traits aren’t a part of the woman you really are. If anything, you’ve honed them well simply to keep people at a distance.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I am what I am.”
“I don’t think so. There’s a great deal more to you than you’re willing to share with me.” His eyes narrowed as he pinned her with his gaze. “For instance, you’re reluctant to tell me where you’ve been for the past three days. Why? My question earlier wasn’t that of a jealous lover, I asked out of concern for your well-being.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, you are the most tenacious man I’ve ever met. If you must know, I was at St. Agnes’s orphanage. Mrs. Beardsley, the cook and housekeeper, was ill.”
She swallowed hard as he grasped her hand to study the chafed skin of her knuckles. When his gaze met hers, she saw a deep respect in his blue eyes that warmed her heart. He approved of her actions. Her mouth went dry. The fact that his approval meant so much to her was a warning sign she found far too easy to ignore when he was holding her hand.
“You worked as a maid.” The gentle note of admiration in his voice made her cheeks grow hot.
“It was necessary. There wasn’t anyone else to help.” She quickly tugged her hand free of his then put some distance between them as she massaged the side of her neck with her fingers.
“When was the last time you ate?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a demand, and she shot him a quick look. The frown on his face made her realize he wasn’t lying when he’d said he was concerned for her. She shrugged.
“I don’t remember. Lunch I suppose.”
He immediately turned away from her, and went to the salon door. Startled by his abrupt manner, she watched as he vanished into the main hall. When he returned a moment later, there was a determined look on his face that said he was going to insist on having his way. At the moment, she was too tired to continue arguing with him.
“Dolores has prepared you a bath. When you’ve finished soaking, you’re going to eat then go to bed.”
Despite the autocratic note in his voice, a rush of warmth flooded her veins. It was the first time in memory that a man had put her needs ahead of his own. She liked the way it made her feel, and she was too tired to question why that was. With a weary nod of her head, she moved toward the doorway and didn’t object as his hand pressed into the small of her back as he guided her out into the hall. At the foot of the stairs, he gently pushed her forward. She looked up at him and offered him a small smile.
“Thank you, Garrick.
”
“You’re welcome,” he said as he carried her hand to his mouth to tenderly kiss the roughened skin of her knuckles. She sucked in a sharp breath.
The moment he released her hand, she stared up at him, unable to tell what he was thinking. The back of her hand was hot from his touch, and she wasn’t sure what to make of the tender caress. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, she turned away from him to climb the stairs, all too aware of his gaze on her back.
When she reached the second floor hallway, she looked down, only to see he was no longer standing at the foot of the stairs. The quiet sound of a door closing told her that he’d gone. Disappointment skimmed through her, and she quickly banished it from her thoughts. She couldn’t afford such an emotion where Garrick was concerned.
All the way home from St. Agnes’s, she’d devised first one plan and then another for breaking her ties with the man. Now, all she’d done was reinforce their friendship by letting him take charge of her well-being. Something she’d never allowed any other man to do before, yet with Garrick she hadn’t argued. In fact, as much as she hated to admit it, she liked how he’d ordered her to take care of herself.
With a small noise of disgust, she mentally shook her head. His behavior had been that of a concerned friend. She was reading more into things than was there. The thought was a double-edged sword, and she didn’t like the opposite side of the blade. She frowned as she entered the small bath off her bedroom, steam rising off the water in her modern tub with its brass faucet. The decision to install plumbing and its fixtures in the house last year was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.
The convenience and amenity of her new bath had made her adamant that St. Agnes’s receive similar improvements. It had been a major expense that many on the board of directors had protested, but it had been worth it. She was certain that it had made a difference in keeping the children healthy.
She undressed quickly, and the moment she sank into the heat of the water, she closed her eyes from the pleasure. With her head back against the rim of the tub, she relished the soft scent of the bath salts Dolores had added. Time ceased to exist, and a delicious lethargy settled into her limbs as she luxuriated in the fragrant water.
A short time later, she heard the rattle of dishes through the open door leading into her bedroom. Dolores had brought her supper. Aware that the water had grown tepid, she reluctantly reached for the lemongrass soap she used when bathing. When she finally stepped out of the tub, she dried herself off then pulled a thin wrapper on over her shoulders and padded barefoot across the floor.
The scent of bay leaves teased her nostrils as she reached the door of her bedroom. Dolores had made beef stew, and the aroma made her stomach growl. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now. Her head slightly bent, she reached up with both hands to pull the pins out of her hair. She shook her head so the wavy locks could tumble down onto her shoulders.
Her fingers massaging her scalp in a careless fashion, she moved deeper into the bedroom, and the quiet noise that greeted her made her jerk her head up in surprise. Stunned, she met Garrick’s intense gaze. Dear Lord, what was he doing here? Her heart skipped several beats as she saw the hungry expression on his face. It was a look she recognized, but she couldn’t remember ever having been aroused so easily by any other man’s stare.
She stood frozen as she saw his gaze roam downward, and she suddenly realized she’d not tied her wrapper closed. Heat seared her cheeks with embarrassment, and she tugged on the edges of the garment and tied it shut with the belt sewn into the seam. As if suddenly realizing he was staring, Garrick jerked his gaze away from her, and to her surprise, she saw a tinge of color darken his cheeks. Was the man blushing? Impossible.
“Remind me not to bring you supper again until I know you’re suitably dressed,” he said in a strangled voice as he cleared his throat.
Still disconcerted by his presence, her gaze shifted toward the fireplace. The large, comfortable chairs she often used when she wanted to warm herself in front of the fire had been pulled closer together. In between the chairs, Garrick had placed a small table with two bowls of steaming stew and a plate of fresh hot bread.
Completing the scene was a small fire that crackled softly in the hearth and cast a warm glow over the table and chairs. The intimate atmosphere should have alarmed her, but at the moment she was too tired and hungry to care. Yet despite how exhausted she was, a frisson raced along her skin to every part of her body as she stared at him. It was the first time in years that she’d felt so nervous and yet exhilarated.
“I thought you’d gone home,” she breathed as her usual confidence fled.
“I decided to stay and make sure you ate supper. Not to mention I was hungry myself.” He gestured toward the chair opposite where he stood. “Come. You need to eat.”
The quiet command made her sweep her hair off her shoulders as she prepared to gather it up into a hasty bun. Garrick immediately stepped toward her, causing her to start with surprise. His expression was unreadable as he closed the distance between them. Slowly, he reached out to grasp her hand and forced her to let go of her hair.
“Don’t. I like seeing you with your hair down.” His hand warmed hers as he pulled her toward the fire. When she was seated, he sat down opposite her and smiled as he picked up his spoon. “This stew smells delicious.”
“It’s one of Dolores’s specialties,” she said as she blew on a hot spoonful of the hearty concoction.
The stew quickly warmed her belly and made her even more lethargic than her bath had done. When she’d finished her bowl, Garrick raised an eyebrow as he smiled at her.
“Shall I go down and get you more stew?”
“No, thank you.” She shook her head. “It was just enough to ease my hunger.”
He nodded, his face darkening with an emotion she couldn’t identify. In an instant it was gone, and he took another bite of his meal. Without looking at her, he buttered a piece of bread and cleared his throat.
“Tell me about St. Agnes’s. Are you a sponsor?”
“I started the orphanage.” Her answer made him jerk his head in surprise toward her.
“You did?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” she said with a touch of annoyance. “Women are just as capable as men when it comes to business or charitable work.”
“You misunderstand my surprise,” he said. “It didn’t occur to me that you might be the primary benefactor of the institution. When did you first start the orphanage?”
“More than fifteen years ago.” She winced as she realized how quickly time could pass one by.
“What prompted you to establish the home?” His gaze was steady as he asked the question. She nibbled at her lip, wondering exactly how much she should tell him. It didn’t help matters that he was so easy to talk to.
“I know what it’s like to have nowhere to go, and I wanted to prevent that from happening to others.”
“And so you created St. Agnes’s.” He reached for his napkin and pressed it against his mouth before tossing it carelessly back onto the table. “Tell me why you know what it’s like to have no place to go.”
“It’s of no importance.” She shivered as she turned her head away from his penetrating gaze to stare into the yellow and blue flames in the hearth. It was a lie. Despite the length of time separating her from the day her mother died, it was still painful.
“I don’t believe that.”
“Why not?” Her gaze jerked back to him in surprise.
“Because I can hear the pain in your voice.” The astute look he sent her made her turn back toward the crackling fire. Suddenly leaning forward, he touched the hand that she’d subconsciously balled up into a tight fist. “I’m a good listener.”
She stared down at his long fingers lightly resting on her hand. In the back of her mind, she noted the muscular strength of his hand and the fine dusting of dark hair that disappeared up under the sleeve of his shirt and coat. She’d always enjo
yed looking at the beauty of a man’s hands. The moment she looked up to meet his gaze she knew she would tell him her story.
While most of the Set knew she claimed her title as the Marquess of Halethorpe’s daughter, most of them believed she was another man’s child. Her father believed it, too. She turned back toward the fire. It had been a long time since she’d thought about the reasons why she’d come to follow her particular path in life. And for the past few months, she’d found herself longing for what might have been.
“The other night at the opera, do you remember the elderly gentleman who was part of the Prince and Princess’s entourage?” she asked quietly.
“The one who didn’t seem particularly happy.”
“Unhappy to see me, is what you mean.” Ruth nodded as the old ache spread through her. “He is the Marquess of Halethorpe . . . and my father.”
“Your father.” It wasn’t a question so much as a puzzled observation.
“My father,” she repeated the words. Despite her best efforts to disguise the bitterness in her voice, it resounded loudly in her ears. “He gave up a lifetime of happiness because he chose to believe the word of another man over his own wife’s.”
She paused as she watched the logs burning in the brick hearth. An ember popped loudly and the unexpected sound made her jump. The gentle touch of his hand prompted her to look at Garrick. He didn’t say a word. It was simply a gesture of comfort, and it warmed her, encouraging her to go on. Leaning back into her chair, Ruth drew in a deep breath.
“My parents were unusual in that they were a love match. Although my mother rarely spoke of the incident that made my father throw her out of Halethorpe Manor, I managed to piece together the story over a period of years.” A shiver rippled through her as she remembered the pain her mother had suffered. Yet in spite of her husband’s cruelty she’d never stopped loving him. “My parents had only been married a short time, and my father was very jealous of anything that occupied my mother’s time, aside from him. They hosted a house party where one of the guests tried to assault my mother in the middle of the night. My father interrupted and assumed the worst.”
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