“You’re too kind, Mrs. Campton,” Ruth murmured as she turned her gaze back toward the small gathering in front of her.
“I only wish I had half your daring.”
“Daring?” She straightened in her chair as she saw Garrick turn his head to look in her direction.
“Of course.” Louise sounded like a cat toying with a bird caught in its claws. The woman’s purring voice set Ruth on edge. “After all, there are few women in the Set who have such adventuresome natures that they take a younger man for a lover.”
There it was. Louise’s reason for sitting next to her. She thought to make her feel uncomfortable for being with Garrick. She refused to listen to the woman’s prattle. Louise was no better than the Town Talk or other scandal sheets. She turned her head and sent the woman a disdainful look.
“My relationship with Lord Stratfield is no one’s concern, even if there are a few years’ difference in our ages.”
She arched her eyebrow in disdain, hoping the woman would go away and leave her be. The headache Garrick had told her to plead was quickly becoming a reality.
“A few years?” Louise laughed unpleasantly. “Oh you poor dear. I thought you knew. Lord Stratfield is much more your junior than a few years. He’s a good twelve years younger than you.”
16
Ruth couldn’t remember ever being so cold. It was as if someone had dropped her in an icy lake. Her gaze shifted downward, expecting to find her clothes drenched with water. Frozen in place, she struggled to absorb Louise Campton’s words. Twelve years.
The woman was wrong. She had to be. Garrick couldn’t possibly be any more than three to five years younger than her. He was far too mature to be a man of . . . she quickly calculated the number in her head. Dear God, he was only twenty-nine.
Her stomach started to churn. Twenty-nine. No wonder the scandal sheets had been so vicious. She was in love with a man young enough almost to be her son. She gripped the seat cushion beneath her as she fought not to faint.
Love. How could she possibly be in love? The nausea made her clutch at her stomach as she looked up and saw Allegra heading toward her with a look of concern on her face. Beside her, Louise Campton leaned toward her with contrived worry.
“Are you all right, Lady Ruth?”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely and shook off the woman’s artificial gesture of concern. “I think I ate something this evening that doesn’t agree with me.”
“Let me call for someone to assist you. Lord Stratfield, perhaps?”
“Mrs. Campton, there you are. Lady Rothschild was just looking for you. I believe she wants to introduce you to someone.” Allegra’s tone was clipped as she gave the woman seated beside Ruth a cold look of dislike. With a haughty smile, Louise Campton rose to her feet and glanced down at Ruth.
“I do hope you’ll forgive me any pain I might have caused you, Lady Ruth. I can assure you it was unintentional.”
Again, the woman reminded her of a cat. Only this time she’d finished toying with her prey and swallowed it whole. Ruth choked back the bile rising in her throat and forced herself to meet the woman’s malevolent gaze.
“You give yourself far too much credit, Mrs. Campton. But I thank you for the service you so willingly provided me. Generosity is so contrary to your nature.”
It amazed her that she even had the wherewithal to insult the woman, but she could tell her words struck home as Louise’s head snapped back. With a vicious glare at her and then Allegra, the woman stalked off as though she was the one who’d been injured during the exchange. Sitting down in the chair Louise had vacated, Allegra took Ruth’s hand and uttered an appalled gasp.
“Dear God, your hands are like ice. What did that woman say to you?”
Ruth didn’t answer as she tried to organize the chaotic thoughts flying through her head. How could she have not realized he was twelve years younger than her? She fought back tears of humiliation. Why hadn’t she read about his age in the scandal sheets? How could she have missed that? She turned to Allegra.
“Did you know?” she rasped.
“Did I know what, dearest?”
“Did you know that Garrick is twelve years younger than me?” She watched her friend shake her head.
“Twelve years. Is that what Louise told you?” Allegra exclaimed. “I don’t believe it.”
“The woman took far too much pleasure in relating the news for her to be lying.” Ruth shook her head as she blinked tears out of her eyes.
“I knew he was younger, but I never thought . . . does it really matter?” Allegra squeezed her hand. “He’s good for you, Ruth.”
“He’s too young,” she said hoarsely. “God, I was a fool. I knew it was a mistake to agree to a liaison with him. But he made me feel . . . and I . . .”
“Oh Ruth,” her friend murmured. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The knowledge weighed heavily on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. “I need to go. I can’t . . . I don’t want her . . . anyone to see me like this. I want to go home.”
A familiar frisson rolled over her skin, and she flinched. Oh God. She couldn’t face him now. One hand pressed to her stomach, she fought to control the panic flooding her limbs. His hand touched her shoulder as he bent over her.
“Christ Jesus. You look like you’re about to faint.” The concern in his voice made her tremble. Struggling to remain composed, she shook her head.
“It’s nothing. It will pass,” she said sharply.
If only that were true. Her gaze flitted around the room. Several guests were beginning to look in her direction with curiosity, and it heightened the mortification making her so ill. But it wasn’t true. It would take a very long time before she was no longer the laughingstock of the Set. She could see it in their eyes. They thought her desperate for being with a man so much younger than herself.
“I’ll take you home.”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Allegra and the earl were about to leave. I will go home with them. You stay and enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“I’ll take you home,” he growled. “Come.”
She looked at the hand he offered her and stood up without his help. Allegra rose to her feet as well and gently pressed her hand into Ruth’s back to steady her.
“My lord, if you’ll call for the carriage, I’ll see to Ruth.” Her friend’s pragmatic tone made Garrick nod in agreement, but his dark frown didn’t disappear.
His hand briefly touched her arm in a gesture of concern, and she stiffened. For a moment, he hesitated as if he were going to question her, but Allegra waved him away. As he left the salon, Lady Rothschild appeared in front of her, followed by the baron.
“My dear Lady Ruth. Are you feeling unwell?”
“Yes, my lady. Please forgive me, but I think it’s best if I go home.” It took a great deal of effort, but she was able to keep her voice steady as she responded to her hostess.
“But of course,” Lady Rothschild exclaimed softly. “I’m so sorry you’re feeling ill. Is there something the baron or I can do for you?”
“No thank you, my lady. I’m certain I’ll recover soon enough.”
The words were bitter on her tongue. She might recover from the humiliation, but she would never find a way to mend her heart. With a slight nod to the Rothschilds, she moved toward the salon’s open doorway, all too aware of the prying eyes following her departure.
As she reached the hall, she saw Garrick waiting for her. He was at her side in several quick strides, but she shrugged off his assistance. The footman draped her wrap over her shoulders, but the garment didn’t alleviate the chill that had seeped into her muscles and down into her bones.
Her entire body felt stiff and awkward, and the numbness washing over her made her feel as though she were drowning in a slowmoving river. Something she was almost grateful for as it made it easier to bear Garrick’s touch when he helped her into the carriage. Huddled in the corner of the vehi
cle, she stared out the window with a sense of helpless despair.
She loved him. From the beginning, she’d told herself to guard against losing her heart to him. How could she have allowed it to happen? Her relationships had always been fleeting. She knew better than to fall in love. And yet she had.
Worse, she’d fallen in love with a man who was barely out of the schoolroom. Her stomach lurched at the thought. Oh God, what was she going to do? Eyes closed, she found herself praying for the night to be over. Praying for the sanctuary of a faraway place where she could curl up and wait for all the pain to recede.
But she couldn’t go anywhere until she’d resolved things with Garrick. There was no doubt in her mind that he would fight her on the matter, but as far as she was concerned, their liaison was at an end. The carriage rocked forward, and she tensed as Garrick leaned toward her.
“Are you with child?”
The question shocked her, and she jerked her head around to look at him. He was serious. The realization almost made her laugh and cry at the same time. The idea that she might be carrying his child would have been heart-wrenching under any circumstance. But the knowledge that she would never be able to give him a son or daughter was far more devastating.
“I’m too old to have a child,” she snapped.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can still have children. The question is whether I can father a child.” There was a morose note in his voice that made her heart weep for him in spite of her humiliation and pain.
“I’m sure that when you find a bride younger than me you’ll sire many children.”
The thought of him with another woman was abhorrent to her, and she heard the resentment in her voice. Garrick caught her hand in his and she stiffened, expecting a familiar hot sensation to skim up her arm. It didn’t. The numbness was still there. She couldn’t help but breathe a soft sigh of relief. It was her only protection from the fire she knew his touch always ignited in her.
“Goddamn it. Stop emphasizing your age. It has nothing to do with us,” he snarled in a manner that said he knew something was deeply wrong between them.
“It has everything to do with us. You deceived me.”
“Deceived you? How?” His grip on her hand tightened.
“You let me believe you were only a few years younger than me. However, Mrs. Campton kindly opened my eyes to the truth this evening. She told me . . . she said you were twelve years younger than me.” There it was again. That sickening churning sensation in her stomach. She bit back a sob as she tugged her hand free of his.
“Christ almighty,” he rasped. “Louise Campton is a poisonous bitch, and the difference in our ages means nothing.”
“Now who’s being ridiculous? We both know what everyone thinks about a woman of my age consorting with a man your age.” Mortified by the words, she shivered with cold and clutched her wrap tightly around her in a futile effort to warm herself. “God knows, the papers have taken me to task regularly on the subject. Although I am amazed they haven’t mentioned the exact difference in our ages before this.”
“They didn’t until this week,” he bit out through clenched teeth. She stared at him in openmouthed horror, and he released a fierce noise of self-disgust. “When Dolores showed me the article, I instructed her to dispose of it.”
“The Town Talk has been on my breakfast tray every morning this week.”
“Except one.”
She frowned then drew in a quick breath as she remembered the morning he was talking about. He’d surprised her by joining her in the bathtub. It was a pleasurable memory that the fear of this moment crushed. He hadn’t just deceived her, he’d manipulated her. Appalled, she stared at him in shock as the carriage jerked to a halt. Tonight need not have happened if he’d simply been honest with her.
No, it wouldn’t have happened because she would have ended their relationship the moment she’d learned the truth. She would not have waited for someone like Louise to make her a figure of fun. But that was precisely what had happened, and it was why she intended to be done with him tonight. Her heart splintered in her chest at the thought.
It would be even more arduous than when she’d asked her father to visit her mother in the days before she died. Her stomach churning again, she flung the Berline’s door open. All she wanted to do was escape this nightmare. She half tumbled, half threw herself out of the vehicle in her determination to flee.
Behind her, Garrick uttered a violent oath, but she didn’t pause in her haste to put distance between them. She had no choice but to have it out with him, but not in the close confines of the carriage. It was too intimate, and she was terrified the numbness controlling her limbs would evaporate any minute. It would make her vulnerable to him—to his touch.
She gathered her skirts up to keep from tripping then hurried up the steps to the front door of the town house, which was slowly opening in front of her. Inside the softly lit foyer, she handed off her wrap to Simmons and glanced at the stairs. She wanted to retreat to the comfort of her bedroom, but she knew that would be a terrible mistake. The intimacy of her bedroom would eventually work in his favor. Garrick was excellent at persuasion, and she’d need her wits about her when she told him they were through.
Without another thought, she bolted into the salon. She rarely drank anything other than wine, but at the moment, the fire of a stiff brandy would give her the confidence she needed for the fight to come. Her nerve endings were already dancing on a thin wire, and as the salon door crashed shut, the violent sound made her jump, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she poured a glass of brandy with trembling hands and threw it down her throat. The result was a coughing spasm that left her clutching her breast until it passed. Strong hands grasped her arms and jerked her into a warm chest.
“Damn it, Ruth. You can’t drink brandy like that,” he chided her with exasperation.
The warmth of him sank its way into her body, thawing her more quickly than the cognac. The numbness slowly rolled back as she breathed in his scent. Sandalwood. Dear God, he always smelled so deliciously of the outdoors. Her nostrils drank in the essence of him, strong and incredibly male. Whenever he held her like this, she felt safe from anything that might harm her.
She gasped with dismay when she realized what she was doing. With a hard shove, she broke free of his embrace and darted away from him. Part of her expected him to pursue her, but when she turned to face him, he hadn’t moved. Blue eyes glittering with assessment, he studied her in silence. She was already so on edge that if he’d taken a single step in her direction, she most likely would have fled the room. The residue of brandy still burned her throat, and she coughed again.
“I’m not letting you go, Ruth.” The harsh determination behind his words made her stiffen.
“And I refuse to continue a liaison with a man who’s twelve years my junior.” Her voice was just as inflexible as his.
“Bloody hell, it’s a number, Ruth.” He shoved his fingers through his dark hair in a gesture that illustrated his frustration as he began to pace the floor. “It’s just a number.”
“Even if I could accept that, which I cannot, you manipulated me. You deliberately hid the truth from me.”
“Of course I hid the truth from you,” he growled as he stopped his prowling to face her. “You’re so damned convinced you have nothing left to offer a man, and I wasn’t about to let the papers destroy what little progress I’d made in convincing you otherwise. I knew how you’d react—”
“And did you know how I’d react when someone else told me that you were twelve years younger than me?” The question sent mortification crawling across her skin again. It was like an insidious piece of ivy threatening to choke her. “Do you have any idea how I felt when Louise Campton so kindly informed me of the difference in our ages?”
She clutched at her throat as she remembered Louise gleefully pointing out the twelve years’ difference between her and Garrick. Only minutes before that terrible revelation, his
masterful, seductive caresses had made her forget she was older than him. Then in one ugly sentence, Louise Campton had reminded her what old really felt like.
The humiliation would have been painful enough, but to realize she was in love with him at the same moment in time had been a crushing blow. Louise had known it, too. The woman had enjoyed seeing Ruth struggle with the knowledge that she’d fallen in love with Garrick. If she’d felt old before, it was nothing compared to what she’d felt at that moment and now.
“I made a mistake, Ruth,” he rasped. “I should have told you the truth.” Regret darkened his handsome features, but she refused to absolve him of his sin.
“But you didn’t tell me the truth. Louise Campton did. And she enjoyed every damn minute of it,” she said bitterly. “I have no doubt the woman will be certain to take credit for our falling-out in the days to come.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled.
“It means your lessons are at an end, my lord. I wish to break our liaison.”
She steeled herself to maintain a detached manner as he narrowed his eyes at her with a calculating look she’d seen before. It was a look that said he was determined to have his own way, and it alarmed her. The silence stretched between them and grew heavier with each passing second. She averted her gaze from his penetrating look.
Why didn’t he say something? He’d been so persistent throughout their affair at getting his own way, yet now he chose to remain silent. Perhaps he didn’t think her serious about ending their liaison. No, she was certain he knew she was earnest in her intent to end things between them; he was simply strategizing how to persuade her otherwise.
Did she have the willpower not to give in to him? A lump rose in her throat, and she immediately reproached herself for even thinking she was willing to accept more heartache where he was concerned. The decision to end their affair was the only thing that would save her further humiliation. Not just at the hands of the Set, but from him as well if he were ever to discover the way she felt about him.
“I think not.” For a simple statement, it had a harshness to it that made her jerk her gaze back to him. An impassive expression hardened his features making it impossible to read his thoughts.
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