by Lavinia Kent
“But she came to the kitchen door,” Cook replied, as if that should answer everything.
And there was something to that, actually. How many highborn ladies even knew about the kitchen door? Oh, they knew it existed, but would they ever think of it as a mode of entry? It was hard to imagine any of those she knew sneaking through the narrow alley and up to the darkened door. It wasn’t that they would consider it beneath them—there was a reason she considered them friends—but it would never occur to them.
But then there was that cloak and the silk slippers; both spoke of a quality beyond the dreams of any ordinary woman. A courtesan? It did seem the most likely. Or a mistress? That made even more sense. Again Ruby wondered if she was one of the girls returning to the nest. It was hard to think whom; there had been so many over the years. And the girl didn’t have to have left recently. It was far too common for a gentleman to keep a girl in style until the inconvenience of an expected little one got in the way.
And that thought brought back the press of tension she’d been putting off. She raised a hand and massaged her temple as thoughts of her business returned. If only she could wish away pain and worry.
It had not been difficult making sure that all was in order in the front of the house, but that did not mean it was not tiring—and annoying. Why did men always think they were unique? That their particular needs were new? She didn’t really care if they wanted to tie up their partners or to be tied themselves; if a certain gentleman wanted a shepherdess costume in his size, she was happy to find it, and if another gentleman needed three quarts of honey, she could procure that as well—even in the snow. She’d even managed to smile at Lord Jackson when he’d asked if it was possible to acquire an extremely large mackerel. Well, she did have to admit that had been unique. She’d never had a man ask for a fish before.
But everything else…
And why did they have to take twenty minutes before whispering their requests? That was the part that made her a trifle unhinged. If they wanted it, she would get it. Why did they need to dither and prolong the matter? It wasn’t as if she ever said no—although she did sometimes help with alternative arrangements. She was not having three cows brought up to one of her rooms, and if she’d allowed the bucket of manure then she’d have had to close the house for a week. But even in those circumstances she’d known where to send them for what they needed.
She would not be sorry to be away from the house. It had provided the home and safety she needed, but she had been here long enough. At moments like this it almost seemed possible to sell the place to Thorton and just be done with it. She was weary of fixing problems, or of preventing them before they started.
And thinking of problems…She turned and headed up the stairs to her chamber.
There was still the mysterious woman to deal with before she could find her own rest for the evening, rest that would probably have to come in a different room. What foolish instinct had caused her to have the girl brought here?
Well, there was only one way to sort out a problem, and that was to deal with it. Ruby placed her hand on the door handle and with a decisive twist entered the room.
For a moment she thought it was empty, no different from any other night when she made her way up here: The bed narrow but still high and plush, the pillows soft and undented. The simple white bedding with bits of blue, lying smooth and flat. The dark furniture with its quiet lines and lack of carving. There was nothing elaborate here, but everything spoke of quality and comfort. It was her refuge, the one place where she could simply be.
The scent of dried pine needles filled the space, seeping from the small sachets that she tucked into corners during the winter months. The scent always brought her into a tall deep forest, although in truth she’d been out of London only a handful of times and had never even seen a great forest. She closed her eyes for half a second and sought inner calm.
Opening them again, she peered about the darkened chamber; only a single candle on the mantel and the fire beneath illuminated it.
The woman was not in the rocker before the flames. That was where Ruby would be if the circumstances had been reversed. Turning, Ruby saw her standing halfway behind the heavy curtains, staring out into the street, into the still-blowing snow. The hood had finally fallen and Ruby could see a tumble of corn-silk curls falling down her back. They’d clearly been caught up at one point but now lay in a jumbled tangle.
Ruby stepped forward, her slippers padding on the floor, and the woman twitched at the movement but did not turn.
“The weather does not seem to be improving. I do hope you do not need to travel tonight,” Ruby said softly.
The woman gave a slight snort, clearly marking the comment for the ridiculous thing it was.
“I know it is unlikely, but I have learned never to take anything for granted. You might have mistaken my establishment for a coaching inn.”
Another snort.
“Well, if that is not the case, will you tell me why you are here?” The best way of getting the truth could often be the most direct.
A long, long sigh.
That was not the same as a no. “I cannot help you if you do not tell me.”
“There is no help for me.” The almost inaudible answer seemed to echo, so glad was Ruby to hear it.
Well, that answered one thing. There was no mistaking those clipped and perfect tones. Whoever the woman was, she had been raised among the highest of the land. Ruby herself had spoken with such a voice before she’d learned to modulate it slightly. “Why don’t you tell me what the problem is?” she replied.
The woman’s hand rose and settled on the full outline of her belly. Her face remained turned to the window. “I doubt there is any mistaking exactly what the problem is.”
“And do you seek a ‘solution’ to that problem?” It was the most obvious reason that a highborn lady would come to her, but surely even the most ignorant among them—and a great many seemed to lack even the most basic of knowledge—would know that things were too far along for a “solution.”
A bitter laugh. “Not of that kind.”
“Then why…?”
And then the woman turned. Even in the dim light, the first thing that Ruby noticed was the bruise, large and swollen, extending across most of the woman’s face. It was a dark and angry purple now but would surely look even worse on the morrow.
And then Ruby saw more. The slim face, even features. The slightly rounded chin and firm jaw. The pale skin untouched by sun. And the eyes. She knew those eyes, knew their startling blue, their clarity, the dark lashes that surrounded them despite the pale brows. She looked at those eyes in the mirror each morning.
Her sister.
Her half sister.
Her father’s legitimate daughter; the duke’s legitimate daughter.
She had no words. She could only look at the woman and try not to gape.
“You know who I am. I see it in your face,” the woman said.
And still no words would come.
“Are you who they say you are?”
Ruby rubbed her brow again. “I don’t know who they are or what they say.”
“They are the whispers that never have a source but have always followed at the edge of conversation.”
“Ahh, I do know that ‘they.’ ”
“And they say that you are Scarlett’s daughter.”
Scarlett. The Duke of Scarlett. Her father.
Ruby filled her chest with air. She had never expected this moment to come. “Yes.”
“You are also my father’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
The woman’s face grew tight. “And yet you are here? You run this place?”
“Yes.” If only the words would form. She needed to do more than offer single-word answers.
The woman turned back to the window. “I did not really believe it.”
“Then why are you here?” That was better. A full sentence.
“I had nowhere els
e to go.” Her voice was flat. Her hand rose to her cheek. “It was impossible for me to stay, and so this afternoon I grabbed what I could and left. Only later did it occur to me to come here.”
Ruby wondered how many hours of wandering the streets it had taken for her to reach that decision. “Can I ask your name?” It seemed impossible but she’d never inquired after the girl’s Christian name, wanting nothing to do with her father’s other family.
“Lady Jasmine Winters. I thought you knew who I was.”
“I know you are the duke’s daughter, Scarlett’s, but nobody has ever bothered to mention a name.”
“And yet I imagine you know my brothers’ names.”
That was an odd reply. “Yes, I suppose I do.” Langdon and Lord James. She almost added that she’d met them both, but that might lead to questions she did not want to answer.
Jasmine faced Ruby again. “I’ve only just begun to understand how little value a woman has. I have friends who read scandalous books and talk about rights, but I always thought it was all nonsense.”
Ruby had no answer. She would not be where she was now if the world had valued her more. “Then will you tell me why you have come?”
Jasmine pulled the dress tight against her belly. “I would think this would speak for itself.”
“I am sure Scarlett would arrange a marriage, assuming he has not already done so.” He certainly had not done so for Ruby herself, but this was his legitimate daughter.
Jasmine’s face lost all trace of emotion. “That is not possible.”
“I thought with Scarlett all things were possible.”
“Not this.” Jasmine turned to the window.
“I am sorry. I do not mean to make light of the matter, but—”
“Father can do almost anything, or at least he thinks he can. But he cannot turn back time and he cannot make me speak.”
“Make you speak?”
“I have refused to answer his questions. He does not do well with refusal.” Again a slender hand rose to the bruise, thin fingers pressing against it.
“No, he does not.” Ruby knew that all too well. It was one of the first lessons her mother had taught her: Always agree with Papa. “And his question was?”
“The obvious. Who is the father?”
“And you would not tell him….I would have thought…”
“That I would be eager to have a man forced to the altar.”
“Under the circumstances it does seem—”
“No.” Jasmine cut her off. “It was not possible—and is not possible.”
Ruby paused, sensing that there was nothing further to be learned at this moment. “Why don’t we sit by the fire. She walked to the fire and sat in the rocking chair, leaving the well-padded wing chair to Jasmine.
Jasmine hesitated, then followed. “Father was not pleased when I refused to tell him who the father was. He thought, as you, that arranging a marriage would be simple. He would not believe that anything he desired could be impossible. When I refused that, he presented me with three names and told me to choose one and that we would be wed within the week. I refused again. I had not been willing to force my child’s father to the altar.” Her hand again dropped to her belly, but this time the gesture was soft and loving. “I was not going to force another man—even one who was eager in return for Scarlett’s promises. Next he proposed to send me back to the country. I was to suffer an illness, and when I returned it would be without the baby—it would be as if the baby had never existed.” Now her hand rose to her cheek, the long fingers cupping her face. “I know that is the most sensible option, but I could not do it. I will not abandon my child. Father promised he would find a good family, but I have heard too many stories of what can happen—and even if he could find such a family, I am not ready to have my child ripped from my arms. He was not pleased when I refused again.”
No, he would not have been. Ruby had never known him to resort to violence, but it did not surprise her. She had not dared to refuse him when she’d been handed a sizable endowment by his man of business and told to never blacken the duke’s door again. “And so you came here?”
“Where else could I go? And I did have to go. I am quite sure that if I remained I would have found myself forced back to the country and my child taken, no matter my wishes. Father had hidden me in the country for more than a month before calling me back to Town to present me with his choices for husband. When I rejected them all and still refused to name the father, my only option was to leave—immediately.”
That was undoubtedly true. And Ruby was beginning to understand just what was being asked of her. “And you wish me to provide shelter and protection?”
“You are my sister.”
And those were words that Ruby had never imagined being spoken, words she had never even dreamed of. Were they words she could refuse? “How far along are you? I saw you this summer and…”
“Not as far as I look—although instinct, as opposed to the calendar, tells me it will not be as far away as it should be. I didn’t round out for the longest time—and then all at once I protruded. That is when I was forced to go to Father. I think I had begun to believe it would never happen. I was not even sure until that point. I do not know much about such things.”
Ruby smothered a curse. Why could not society inform girls about the most basic workings of their bodies? “Do you know when the event took place?”
“I would rather not say.”
That was strange. “May I ask why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“And the father?”
“If I did not tell Scarlett, I will not tell you.”
“And yet you expect me to take you in?”
“I don’t expect anything.” Jasmine sat upright in her seat, as if prepared to leave.
And Ruby could see that was true. If she refused Jasmine, then the girl would simply get up and wander out into the storm. For whatever reason, and Ruby imagined that there was one, the girl would not talk. “Do not be defensive. I am not proposing to put you out in the street in the snow.”
Jasmine stared at her, then let herself relax into the seat. “I am sorry. It has been a difficult day.”
Ruby looked at the bruise and agreed silently. “Do you have anything—a bag, a change of clothing?”
“I have some money, some jewels, if you need payment.”
Ruby closed her eyes, thrown back to her own youth, to the moment when she had stood outside the red door to this house with a pocket full of bank notes, a pair of sapphire earrings—and nothing else, save the dress that she wore. “I did not mean to be rude. It was a practical question. I wanted to know what I should ask the maid to fetch—and to know if I needed to send one of the boys out to retrieve your belongings. I certainly do not need recompense for a few nights’ lodging, and if it is longer than that, we can talk again.”
Jasmine looked down at her clenched fingers and then back up at Ruby. “Thank you. Now, is it too much to ask if I could have some quiet and simply retire? I am quite exhausted.”
Ruby stood. “I will send the maid with wash water and a clean chemise and perhaps a dress for tomorrow. And, yes, it will be something you are not ashamed to wear. I have some modest day dresses I wear to visit my mother’s family, and if they are too large—or perhaps large in the wrong places—I am sure something can be found.”
Jasmine followed her to her feet. “Thank you. I know I seem ungrateful and uncommunicative, but I am still…” Her voice trailed off.
Ruby placed a hand on her arm. “I know.” She gave a gentle squeeze to her sister’s arm and slipped from the room. She still needed to be sure that all was well with Angela and Colton, to make sure that somebody had a wonderful night that went as expected.
Angela
Angela, Lady Colton, stood in the near dark at the base of the stairs, shaking the remaining snow from her deep hood, feeling anticipation fill her. She knew what was to come, or at least she thought she did. Colton had b
een both vague and reassuring when he’d told her to meet him at Madame Rouge’s this evening. It had been a strange combination, the promise that Colton was going to make her fantasies come true and at the same time a warning that she must trust him.
She always trusted him. It was one of the mainstays of their relationship and their sudden marriage. And she had to admit that he’d been most attentive to her little hints about Madame Rouge’s earlier in the day. She’d never imagined that he would react so promptly. A light smile passed her lips. Perhaps he’d been as eager for this outing as she.
She’d expected to see Ruby when she entered Madame Rouge’s with her hood pulled far over her face, hiding her features from any onlooker. Instead, the front hall had been deserted, save for the sole young footman who’d answered the door and helped her remove as much of the snow as possible. Even the few short steps from her carriage to the door had left her coated in white, and it would be impossible to remove her cloak until she was safely behind doors with Colton.
A quick glance into the parlor had revealed it to be empty also. The appalling weather must be keeping everyone safe at home. Perhaps she should have tried to reach Colton to be sure he would be here. It would be dreadful to arrive and find herself alone.
Just as she began to worry, Simms appeared, looking slightly shaken, his usual calm demeanor unsettled. He examined her for a moment and then said, “You are here to meet Lord Colton?”
“Yes,” she replied, letting her voice drop an octave below its usual pitch.
“He asks that you go up the stairs and then take the hallway to the left, the one with the green trim; it will be the door directly at the end. He prefers that you go up alone, but I can escort you if needed.”
She was glad there were not more patrons about. “I think I shall be fine.”
“Very well, then—and Madame apologizes for not meeting you. She is taking care of a difficult situation at the moment.”
“I do understand.”
“And now if you will excuse me I have a couple of matters I must take care of myself.” He gave one last little nod and then disappeared into a door just past the parlor.