The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  Though he had already relayed this information to his parents, Conrad saw his mother’s expression tighten and his father’s gaze drop to the floor.

  “There, he purchased a ticket and boarded a ship bound for America,” said Conrad, turning his gaze to Miss Jeffries. “It set sail at dawn and was gone before I arrived.”

  The lady stood there with far more composure than expected after such news. Though some might wrongfully attribute it to indifference, Conrad noticed the shifts in her expression. Her shoulders drooped, her brows drew together, and only a fool would miss the dark circles and red cast to her eyes. Miss Jeffries felt the pain of this new betrayal, but she did not surrender to it, and Conrad couldn’t help but be impressed by her fortitude.

  Her father was another matter.

  “Then go after him,” he said, his complexion growing florid. “Drag him home if you have to. I will not allow this effrontery to stand.”

  “Mr. Jeffries—” began Mother, but the fellow would not listen.

  “Do not try to placate me with false promises,” he said. “I am not a foolish young lady to have my head so easily turned. I demand this be settled immediately. If you cannot produce the blackguard who destroyed my daughter’s good name, then your family must provide a suitable substitute.”

  Conrad stilled, his eyes widening as he cast a glance as his brother, Vincent. There was no mistaking Mr. Jeffries’ meaning nor what it meant for the pair of them. The demand choked the air, leaving behind a silence like that found on a battlefield before the first shot was fired.

  “Papa, please—” whispered Miss Jeffries, but her father blasted her with a searing look, and her mouth closed, her face turning to the floor.

  “Mr. Jeffries, let us discuss for a moment,” said Father, reaching forward to shepherd the group back to the parlor, though none of them took the offered seats.

  Mr. Jeffries’ eyes narrowed. “There is nothing to discuss. Your son besmirched my family. Will you add to his shame by denying your obligation to us? Surely, the next in line will do his duty.”

  The fellow turned that burning gaze to Vincent, and for the briefest moment, Conrad relaxed. But his older brother tensed, his face paling—luckily, Miss Jeffries was still staring at the carpets, for there was no denying the abject horror written on Vincent’s face. That was when Conrad remembered Miss Goodland. His brother’s engagement was not formalized, but only just. The couple had waited for Vincent to establish himself in his profession, so that all-important question had not been posed, but there was no doubt his brother’s heart was well and truly ensnared by that dear young lady.

  “Mr. Jeffries, I understand your daughter has been wronged, but you cannot expect me to force another son to surrender his life for Lucas’s mistake,” said Father. With each word, his shoulders drooped, as though they stole away his father’s vitality, for they all knew that was precisely what Mr. Jeffries intended and what ought to happen.

  “You would leave my daughter a fallen woman and her child a bastard?” barked Mr. Jeffries as his wife stiffened and turned her face away from her daughter. “Your sons have the ability to save them both. Would you refuse to do so?”

  Conrad’s breaths came in quick bursts, and he raised a shaky hand to his forehead. Perhaps they could locate Lucas. There were still several months before Miss Jeffries reached her confinement, which gave them time. America was far, but not so very far as to make it an impossibility.

  A lump formed in Conrad’s throat as he thought through all the possibilities—and there were many. Surely, they could wait a few weeks to sort this mess.

  But even as he thought through all their options, a lingering, infallible truth pricked at his conscience; Lucas could not be made to marry Miss Jeffries. The eldest Ashbrook son had more in common with an eel than a gentleman. Conrad had expected him to bolt and set up safeguards, but Lucas had slipped past every one.

  And then there was the matter of the wedding itself. Even if they well and truly caught him and forced him to the altar, Conrad knew Lucas could not be forced to speak the vows.

  There was Nathaniel. Having left for Michaelmas term days before the Jeffries’ arrival, he was as of yet unaware of Lucas’s behavior. Perhaps the youngest Ashbrook could be called upon to do this. The thought sprang from desperation and had hardly formed before Conrad recoiled from it. Nathaniel was a lad of one and twenty. He hardly knew what he was doing with himself, let alone how to shoulder the burden of a wife and child. He had no income, no profession, and would not be allowed to continue his education as a married man.

  And even if Nathaniel was willing and able, could Conrad stand by and watch the young man do what his elder brothers would not?

  But to surrender his opportunity to choose his bride? To shackle himself to a lady for the rest of his life? The last few years had been so consumed with keeping the mill afloat that Conrad hadn’t been in a position to contemplate matrimony. With things improving, Conrad was just beginning to turn his thoughts to wooing and courtship. Was it all to be over before it had begun?

  Time stretched out, each scenario playing out in rapid succession, and though only seconds passed, Conrad felt years settle onto his shoulders. Vincent’s mouth opened, and Conrad’s convoluted thoughts crystalized with the sudden knowledge that his brother would cast aside the woman he loved because of this duty to his family.

  “I will marry Miss Jeffries,” said Conrad. The words came from his mouth, though it did not feel as though he had spoken them.

  Mother sucked in a sharp breath, and Father sighed, his head dropping low. Vincent stared at Conrad, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Then his expression pinched, his mouth moved, but Conrad gave him a stern shake of the head. Holding his brother’s gaze, he silently pleaded for Vincent to accept the state of things. Miss Jeffries and her child did not deserve to suffer for Lucas’s behavior, and even the thought of Vincent sacrificing the life he’d built filled Conrad with such agony that he knew he could not stand by and do nothing.

  Conrad’s heart was not engaged with another. The mill was prospering, and he had both a house and income to care for a family. Of all the Ashbrook brothers, Conrad was the clear choice. The only choice.

  He only wished that thought brought him peace.

  *

  Ruby snapped from her stupor and stared at the gentleman. Where Lucas shared stark similarities to his father, though with a more handsome bent to his features, this Ashbrook son shared nothing in common with either of his parents aside from his coloring. His dark hair mirrored his mother’s, while his eyes followed after his father’s brown. His mother’s features were angled and sharp while his father’s were strong and broad, and their son’s rested somewhere between.

  Scouring her memory, she couldn’t even be certain she knew the fellow’s name. They’d never shared a conversation or even spoken to one another. He’d graced the house many times during her stay with the Ashbrooks, but he rarely spoke to anyone other than his family.

  And here, he’d volunteered to take Lucas’s place. For a brief moment, warmth broke through the chill gripping her, but the grim pull of the gentleman’s mouth chased it away. The Ashbrook son stood there, rigid and stony as Papa spoke of licenses and wedding details.

  “Papa.” The name came out in a whisper before Ruby realized she was going to speak. Mrs. Ashbrook’s eyes darted to her, but none of the others had heard. Ducking her head, Ruby took a breath.

  “Papa, please,” she said in a clearer tone. Coming to her feet, she stepped closer to her father. Without knowing the son’s name, she settled on his surname. “Mr. Ashbrook should not be made to bear the brunt of his brother’s actions.”

  Papa leveled a hard look at her, his eyes narrowed as though she were a child who’d spoken out of turn. With a quick snatch, he took her by the arm and pulled her back out of the parlor. Through the hazy stupor invading her mind, Ruby heard the Ashbrooks protest, but Papa would not be stopped.

  Once they were well out of he
aring of the others, he rounded on her. Seeing Papa in a temper was not an unusual sight, but there was an edge to this one that left Ruby staring mutely at him.

  “How dare you speak out of turn,” he said, his voice little more than a hiss. Papa’s muscles grew more rigid as he glowered at her, and there was an angry flush to his face that matched the burning in his eyes. “Your wanton behavior has already shamed us, and now, you would argue with me in front of your future husband and his family? Your mother and I have done everything in our power to give you a comfortable life. You have wanted for nothing!”

  Papa’s voice rose, and he caught himself before it grew into a bellow. Taking a breath, he relaxed his posture, though the hardness did not leave his gaze. “After all we’ve done, you threw it and your morals away and leapt into bed with some rogue. And for what?”

  Ruby’s heart collapsed in on itself, leaving her body trembling and weak. “But we were married.”

  The words were meaningless, and repeating them made them no truer than before, but Ruby could not release her grip on them. She had married Lucas. She had stood before a vicar and recited the marriage vows. She had shared a bed with her husband and no one else. Ruby now knew it was a lie, but the truth of her situation made her mind seize and shy away from reality.

  Papa’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling in a faint sneer. “That just proves how senseless you are. And I will not allow you to make a mockery of my family a moment longer. You will do as I tell you to, and you will not speak a word out of turn.”

  Ruby turned her gaze to the floor, her shoulders rounding. Papa’s words settled into her heart like lead weights, and she could not deny a single one.

  “Now, there’s a good girl,” said Papa, releasing her arm and placing a hand on her back to urge her towards the parlor once more. “Remember your manners.”

  Ruby straightened, though she could not bring herself to look at the others as she and her father stepped into the room. There were voices around her, and logically, she knew they were not shouting, but the noise felt sharper than before; each syllable pricked at her, filling her head with an indecipherable buzz of sound. The air was thick and heavy, as though someone had lit a fire on an already stuffy day; though Ruby took a breath, it felt like molasses in her lungs.

  A hand brushed her elbow, and her eyes fell to the foreign touch. Following the connected arm, Ruby’s gaze traveled up until it connected with a pair of brown eyes. They were warm and rich, though the muscles around them were pinched with worry. This was the man she was bound to marry, and still Ruby did not know his name.

  “May I help you to the sofa?” he asked.

  His hand on her elbow was gentle; his touch did not demand her attention but asked to be of assistance. Though he had signed away his freedom, his expression held far more concern for her well-being than his own. Ruby’s throat tightened, and though she wished to hold onto her decorum, the last of her reserves disintegrated as she held his gaze.

  Not trusting herself to speak, Ruby shook her head and moved to the door. She was not needed as they planned, and she needed the silent emptiness of her bedchamber. Slipping away from the others, she stepped into the empty hallway and made her way to that solace, unaware of when the tears had begun trickling down her cheeks.

  Chapter 5

  A haze wrapped around Ruby like a thick layer of gauze. She was at the center of the chaos, but it was distant and muted; aware of the movement and chatter around her but not party to it. A silent witness unable to free herself of the bindings that held her in place and dulled her senses.

  Then she stood before the vicar, reciting vows that were more akin to lies. Fidelity and constancy were simple enough to promise, but there was a weight to the others that rested on her shoulders—promises made between strangers and repeated with all the exuberance of a cook rattling off ingredients.

  Love. Cherish. Honor.

  Ruby’s first wedding was not wholly different from this; plainly clothed, the bride and groom had slipped quietly into the church without fanfare. But that wedding had been a giddy affair. A whirlwind romance where the couple rushed through the ceremony as though they could not stand another minute apart. False though it had been, that wedding served as a stark comparison with this one, which had all the warmth and joy of a funeral.

  A bride ought to know her groom’s name before reaching the altar.

  And then it was finished. Husband and wife. The vicar spoke the words as though they did not shake the very ground upon which Ruby stood. The man who was now her husband met her eyes for a moment and offered his arm to escort her to the registry. With shaking hands, she signed the necessary documents that made this sham marriage official and binding.

  Mr. and Mrs. Conrad Ashbrook.

  With the ink still wet on the page, Mama and Papa bustled towards the church door. Leaving her husband’s side, Ruby followed after them, but they did not turn when she called. Stepping through the door mere moments after they, she found the pair climbing into their carriage laden with luggage.

  “Are you leaving so soon?” asked Ruby, scouring her memories for any hint that they’d planned on doing so, but the past few days were little more than a jumbled mess in her mind.

  Papa cast a glance at her through the open carriage door. “The wedding has taken place.”

  “But…” Ruby had no thought as to what her argument would be. Logically, she’d known they would not remain in the Ashbrooks’ home for long, but this was too sudden. However, words failed her, and she merely stared at her parents.

  “Control yourself, Ruby,” said Papa.

  “Cannot we bid a proper farewell?” she asked, reaching forward. Though it was too far for her to touch Mama, the lady stiffened and turned away to look at the window opposite.

  The invisible gauze ripped away from Ruby’s heart, peeling at the festering wounds in her heart. “Mama?”

  “Do not compound your shame by causing a scene,” said Papa, leveling a cold look at his daughter before nodding at the nearby servant, who swung the coach door shut and took his seat beside the coachman. With a flick of the reins, the carriage moved away, and Ruby watched it go; Mama and Papa never spared a backward glance.

  Ruby struggled to repair the thick numbness that had allowed her to distance herself from the goings-on around her, but this new wound would not be so easily bound. She jumped at a touch on her elbow and cast a glance at the gentleman who was now legally and lawfully bound to her.

  “Are you well?” he asked, his gaze echoing that question. But then he gave a slight wince. “I suppose that is a silly question, isn’t it?”

  Ruby did not trust herself to answer. Any word or movement might let loose a torrent she could not allow herself to feel at present. Her husband merely stood there, waiting, and when she did not respond, he motioned for her to take his arm and led her to the couch where his parents awaited them.

  Bundling her into it, he sat Ruby next to his mother in the forward-facing seat, while he and his father took the opposite. The trio attempted conversation, but it was beyond Ruby’s ability, as she hardly understood her own thoughts and emotions at present; that tangled swirl plagued her mind, demanding her attention while refusing to form into anything coherent or useful. It was as though her mind had seized, holding her on the edge of pain, neither allowing her to plummet into it nor pulling her back from the precipice.

  It wasn’t until they stopped that Ruby realized the drive had taken longer than necessary to arrive at the Ashbrooks’ home, bringing them into some unknown part of the town. Before the carriage door opened, she caught the sound of rhythmic clanking—a loud, thunking cacophony that reminded her of a train engine. When the door swung wide, the sound filled the carriage. Not loud enough to necessitate covering her ears, but it choked the air.

  Helping her down, Conrad offered her his arm. His parents said a few things that made no impression on Ruby’s thoughts, though the pinch of concern in their expressions led her to believe they were
speaking kindly. And then their carriage rolled away, leaving her and her new husband standing before a large brick building.

  When she’d first arrived in Greater Edgerton, Ruby had thought it not so different from her quiet corner of Derbyshire. The landscape was not quite as glorious, as there were few corners of England that could compare to the Peak District, but the houses and buildings here had a similar feel to those in Chesterton. But that more rural section of village was far from where she now stood.

  Though nestled in the countryside, Greater Edgerton was no small settlement. It had not yet reached the size of Manchester, Liverpool, or the other industrial cities that were quickly shaping Lancashire, but it was well on its way to economic greatness and had all the hallmarks of such places. The street at her back teemed with movement and the sounds of industry filled the air; machines clanked, horse hooves clattered against the cobbles, people shouted and called back and forth, dogs barked, and a dozen other sounds Ruby could not identify echoed in her ears.

  The row of buildings before her were newer and simple, looking stark and lifeless compared to the quaint cottages and houses that surrounded the elder Mr. and Mrs. Ashbrook’s portion of the town. These were imposing beasts that loomed upwards, blocking out any sight of greenery or nature. The building before her was a deep red brick, but soot and fog colored it and everything in a wash of dinginess. The cottages and homes in the countryside were often fashioned from gray stones, but they were a vibrant patchwork of light and dark shades that were striking against the grassy knolls.

  A gaping archway led into a courtyard, but Conrad directed her past that and to the front door of the townhouse nestled beside the mill.