The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  Mrs. Fowler’s eyes widened, and she turned to the young ladies standing at her side, beckoning them closer. “I am such a goose! I do apologize, Mrs. Conrad. Please allow me to introduce my daughters, Miss Tilda Fowler, Miss Maude, and Miss Irene.”

  The young ladies exchanged curtsies, but young Miss Irene popped up and bounced onto the balls of her feet.

  “Was it love at first sight? A glance across a crowded ballroom and in an instant you two knew you were destined to be together?” she said with a sigh that conveyed all the longing her adolescent heart could muster.

  “Dear, you read too many novels, and I fear they have filled your mind with nonsense,” said Mrs. Fowler with a good-natured shake of her head.

  “Don’t be silly, Mama,” said the middle daughter. “They are positively delightful stories, and you devour as many of them as she.”

  “More, even,” added Miss Irene.

  Mrs. Fowler gave a mock scowl and placed her hands on her hips. “Traitors! Children are to honor their parents, and yet you betray me. And on the steps of the church. For shame.”

  But Miss Maude and Miss Irene looked no more repentant than their Mama looked fierce.

  “And where did the happy couple meet?” asked Miss Fowler. She spoke with an even tone, though there was an edge beneath it that caused Ruby to tense. It was an innocuous question, but the unflinching manner in which Miss Fowler looked at Ruby was anything but. “I was quite surprised to return home and find Mr. Conrad Ashbrook married, for I was not aware of his having left Greater Edgerton, and I am certain you have not visited our fair corner of Lancashire before.”

  Mrs. Ashbrook gave Ruby’s arm a squeeze and smiled. “Her family are old friends of ours.”

  “How wonderful,” said Mrs. Fowler. “Childhood love, no doubt. Mr. Fowler and I knew each other long before we courted, and I am convinced it is the best beginning to a marriage. A sturdy foundation.”

  Ruby felt Miss Fowler’s gaze, and she tried not to fidget, but then the young lady’s eyes fell to Ruby’s midsection.

  “I see you two are quite happy together.” Miss Fowler’s words were innocent, but her tone insinuated much and set Ruby’s cheeks ablaze.

  Ruby had known there were bound to be rumors. No matter that they’d married to stem any gossip from tainting her or the child; it was simple subtraction to surmise that the unspeakable had happened before the marriage. However, most were content to whisper in the corners of ballrooms or behind closed doors and ignore the obvious.

  Unable to meet Miss Fowler’s eyes any longer, Ruby turned her gaze away, and only Mrs. Ashbrook’s hand on her arm and the knowledge that escaping would add to the rumors kept Ruby in place with a false smile on her face.

  “And why should they not be, Tilda?” asked her mama with an equally pointed tone as she leveled a look at her daughter that warned her against any further comment. “They are married, and it is only right that they should be content.”

  Before Ruby’s face could burn any brighter, Miss Maude said, “Mrs. Ashbrook, I must say that is a gorgeous shawl. Wherever did you get it?”

  “Isn’t it?” added Mrs. Fowler with a bright smile. “Quite beautiful.”

  “I adore it.” Releasing Ruby’s arm, her mother-in-law pulled the wrap free and held it out so the ladies could admire it all the better. With glowing words, she told them of Ruby’s handiwork.

  Ducking her face, Ruby felt a flush spread through her. The praise was too effusive and far more than her talent deserved. It was only a simple shawl, yet the ladies admired it as though it were a grand masterpiece of fashion. But even as she wished they would desist, Ruby could not deny that she warmed at their words and a happy tickle ran down her spine. Gathering her hands in her skirts, she kept her gaze averted as not to draw their direct attention.

  But any joyful feelings fled when her eyes fell on her husband. Standing just outside the church doorway, Conrad and his father spoke one to the other, and though Ruby could not make out a word of their conversation, it was easy enough to see it concerned an unpleasant subject.

  Conrad attempted to hide his distress. He kept his posture straight, his shoulders squared, but there was a hard cut to his expression and such sadness dulling his eyes. Perhaps others might not see the despair clinging to him, but Ruby felt it lingering beneath the surface. She could not claim a great understanding of her husband, but she had studied his expressions over the past weeks and had come to an unpleasant discovery—that forlorn expression was her doing.

  Biting on her lip, Ruby cast her eyes to the ground. If not for her, Conrad would be free to do as he pleased. Marry whom he wished. Find a young bride closer to his age who was free to love him. Not this broken and battered woman to whom he was bound. This unwanted creature. Ruby sucked in a slow breath to dispel the maudlin sentiments clinging to her, but even as she tried to calm the painful thudding of her heart, she knew she deserved such self-flagellation. Her weakness and silliness had brought them to this moment.

  A faint voice called out to her, whispering to her that she did not deserve to bear the blame, but Ruby could not slough it all onto Lucas’s shoulders. Regardless of his motives and actions, she’d chosen to go against her better judgment and elope. It was she who had cast aside logic and reason for a ridiculous hope that was as false as Lucas’s heart.

  Shaking her head at herself, Ruby straightened her spine. Whatever else had happened, there was an added level of pain to Conrad’s torment that had naught to do with Lucas’s behavior and everything to do with hers.

  A wife’s duty was to support her husband. To uplift him. In their short time married, Ruby had only angered and frustrated him. He’d hardly spoken since the incident with the furniture even though she had put things to rights again.

  Scowling at herself, Ruby thought again about that day, wondering what had taken possession of her good sense. She ought to have spoken with Conrad first before making any changes, yet she’d allowed herself to get swept up in Mrs. Ashbrook’s excitement.

  Ruby’s breath seized in her lungs as sudden understanding dawned. Yet again, she’d been swayed by another. Though Mrs. Ashbrook’s interference had been well intentioned, it led to unpleasant consequences. Pulling her arms tight around her middle, Ruby wondered if she would ever have enough sense to keep herself from stumbling into such situations. Her choices had brought shame to herself and her family, and now they were bringing misery to the man who had sacrificed his freedom for her sake.

  Chapter 10

  Shifting the basket from hand to hand, Ruby stood in the entryway, staring at the front door. It was silly to feel so uneasy, but brashness was rarely an admirable thing. Though the door was closed, she heard the movement of the street echoing through the wood, and she thought through her actions once more.

  It was only a luncheon. A bit of food. That was all. Truly, it should not be such a terrifying thing, but Ruby knew it wasn’t the only basket in her hand that had her in a dither. Crossing that threshold meant more than taking a few steps.

  Ruby’s heartbeat sped at the thought of what such an action meant. In her thirty years, she’d never stepped foot outside alone before. As a married lady, it was her right to venture forth, but in the month since the wedding, she’d felt no inclination to do so. With no friends in the area, she had no one to call on, and Ruby did not know where to locate the shops (even if she felt inclined to visit them); thus, she’d had no reason to leave her home.

  Now, she stood at the door and felt a frisson of fear shiver through her. The mill was naught but a few steps away, yet still she stood there, shaking like a frightened child because she was terrified of both the destination and the journey there.

  But Conrad needed sustenance. Hour after hour, he stayed at the mill without the slightest reprieve, and if Ruby could do nothing else, she would ensure her husband was properly fed. It was a basic tenet of being a wife, and the time had come for Ruby to don that mantle. She would never again give Conrad cause to lo
ok so forlorn as he had the day before.

  “I give my word that everything will be to Mr. Conrad’s liking.”

  Turning to the voice, Ruby saw Mrs. Seymour standing there, wiping her hands on the corner of her apron. The cook watched her with knowing eyes and a hint of a smile.

  Ruby bit on her lip while glancing at the basket. The sentiment made sense, but there was still a fog of unease hanging in her heart.

  “I made certain to pack his favorites,” she added, nodding at the basket. “And if there is one thing I know about men, it is that they never complain about someone bringing them good food.”

  Shoring up her resolve, Ruby gave Mrs. Seymour a nod and reached for the door handle, but paused when the cook added, “Mr. Conrad is too apt to lose himself in the mill and forget all else. There was a time when I sent over meals for him, but after a fortnight of it going to waste, I decided not to bother. Perhaps if you sit with him, he might actually stop long enough to partake. The lad needs someone to watch over him and make certain he is taking care of himself.”

  And with that, the cook turned and took the stairs back down into the kitchen, leaving Ruby to venture forth alone.

  The front door opened to a cacophony that made her wince. Though she often watched the street, Ruby was unprepared for being in the overwhelming energy that filled it; there were always people moving to and fro, deliveries being made and taken from the mills and factories around them. Ruby preferred a quieter pace of life, but she could not deny that there was something impressive about the tumult; it had a vitality that belied the pall of soot and smoke coloring the neighborhood.

  Looking up and down the street, Ruby wondered if the other factories and mills had homes attached to them as well. Her life had been spent with neighbors to spare, but looking at the industry around her, she wondered if she had any.

  “Ma’am?” A boy of about seven or eight with a dark mop of hair came rushing over to her, sliding to a stop and giving a tug of his cap as he nodded at the basket in her hands. “Let me carry that for you.”

  “I am only going to the mill,” she replied.

  “Thought so,” he said with a nod. “Mr. Conrad would want me to assist you.”

  The child was thin and hardly looked strong enough to carry it for her, but he met Ruby’s eyes with such determination that she could not deny him.

  “And what is your name?” she asked as he took the burden.

  “Tommy, ma’am,” he said with a nod of his head. “My ma was happy to hear Mr. Conrad finally got himself a wife. She says it’s no good for a man to live alone as he does. He needs a woman to keep him in line.”

  Ruby had no thought as to how to respond to that, so she turned to walk towards the mill entrance.

  “Your mother knows Mr. Conrad?” asked Ruby.

  “She works at Newland with my oldest sisters. I’m not old enough to join them yet, but Mr. Conrad gives me a coin here and there to help out with odd jobs,” he said, with more than a hint of pride at the distinction.

  “Do you wish to work at the mill? Is there no school for you to attend?” Ruby glanced at the boy and felt a prick in her heart at the scowl she saw there.

  “I’m the man of the family, and I’m not much of one if I waste time in a school when my ma and sisters need my help to feed the little ones.”

  Ruby hardly thought school a waste, though she would not say such things aloud. Instead, she gave him a smile to soothe his ruffled pride. “I am certain you do a splendid job of helping them. You’ve certainly been a help to me.”

  Tommy straightened, carrying the basket with an extra bounce to his step as they turned into the mill’s courtyard. Nodding at her to follow, the lad led her to the right and through an office door. With its wood paneling, the room felt darker than it ought to have been, though a large group of windows was open to the courtyard. To one side sat a desk, the walls around it lined with bookshelves, and an older gentleman looked up from his work as they entered.

  “Mr. Fields, the missus is here to see Mr. Conrad,” said Tommy, nodding at Ruby.

  Getting to his feet, Mr. Fields strode over and motioned her towards another door opposite the desk. “Mrs. Ashbrook, how good to meet you. Mr. Conrad is just through there.”

  Tommy took hold of the door handle and let himself in, lugging the basket along.

  “What have you got there, Tommy?” asked Conrad.

  As she stepped in after the boy, Ruby’s heart gave an unpleasant stutter when he stiffened, staring at her as though she were the last person he’d expected to step into his office. As Ruby did not know him well enough to surmise the entire contents of his heart at that moment, she could not say with any certainty that he was displeased—though she wouldn’t say he was pleased, either.

  “I thought you might like some luncheon.” A lady did not fidget, so Ruby clasped her hands together to keep them from picking at her skirts.

  Conrad watched her, sitting there like a statue for several long moments. Tommy set the basket on a clear corner of the desk. Blinking, Conrad came to himself and shot to his feet.

  “Yes,” he said, coming around his desk. “That was very thoughtful of you. I’m afraid I forget to eat during the day.”

  Ruby gave a hesitant smile. “Mrs. Seymour said as much.”

  Conrad turned to Mr. Fields and Tommy, giving them a nod before dismissing the pair of them.

  “Please wait, Tommy.” Pulling back the cloth covering the basket, Ruby took quick inventory and retrieved a pork pie. Placing it in his hands, she said, “My thanks for your assistance.”

  The lad schooled his expression, but there was a gleam of pleasure in his eyes when he looked at Ruby and gave a tug of his cap. He scurried from the office, and Mr. Fields shut the door behind him, leaving the couple quite alone.

  Ruby squeezed her hands, her gaze darting from her husband, to the basket, to the floor, and back again. Her heart gave an anxious flutter at the thought of what she’d just done. Acting without employing her good sense yet again. Conrad already paid Tommy for his odd jobs, yet she’d handed over the food without consulting her husband first. Even on its own, the pie was generous for such little work, but it hadn’t felt right to let the boy leave without something.

  “There is still plenty for your luncheon,” said Ruby, turning to the basket and unpacking the contents. “Mrs. Seymour outdid herself and packed enough for the entire mill, so you needn’t worry.”

  *

  There was something to Ruby’s posture and tone that gave Conrad pause. The manner in which she fluttered about while studiously avoiding looking at him had him examining the past few minutes and her current behavior.

  Stepping closer, Conrad shifted his books and papers to make space for the feast.

  “I apologize for not speaking with you first, but I acted without thought,” she added.

  Conrad shook his head, but as she refused to look at him, he said, “No. You acted quite thoughtfully. Tommy needs the food more than either of us.”

  Ruby was not a petite lady, yet she shrank in on herself. In one hand, she held a wedge of cheese, and her fingers dug into it. “Then you are not upset?”

  A spike of heat shot through his chest, and Conrad stiffened. She thought him petty enough to deny a child a bit of food? The law didn’t allow Tommy gainful employment in the mill, but Conrad kept him and many of the other street boys employed with minor tasks. There were plenty of times that those small wages kept them and their families from starving. He’d prefer them to be in school, gaining an education that would help them in the future, but when one wasn’t certain one could feed himself and his family that night, the future was far less pressing.

  But before Conrad could say a word, she continued. “I know I should’ve asked permission, but I could not let him go without something. Perhaps a whole pie was ostentatious for such a small service, but he has a family to provide for, and I could not let him go empty-handed.”

  The roiling anger that had been
building in his chest eased. That was not to say that it was gone, but like a pot of boiling water pulled off an open flame, it calmed until there was only a breath of steam rising from it. Crossing his arms, Conrad sighed and stared at the floor as his wife continued to lay out the spread.

  So, she did not think him a miser. He was merely a dictator. One was hardly better than the other, and Conrad did not care for either characterization applied to him. But there was enough sense left in him to recall the wisdom his father had bestowed yesterday. Ruby did not know any better, and Conrad was humble enough to admit he’d not given her reason to trust him.

  Prevaricating had done them no good. Neither had assuming he understood Ruby’s intentions. There was little more damage that could be done, so Conrad decided on a more direct approach.

  “Do you think me so petty as to demand a say in everything you do?” he asked.

  Pausing as she straightened the final bits of food, Ruby watched him with wary eyes, her brow furrowing. “It’s not petty. It is your right as my husband and the head of our household.”

  Motioning for Ruby to take the seat before his desk, Conrad sat in the chair beside her, angling it so that he might meet her eyes, though she kept her gaze fixed on her hands clasped in her lap.

  “We have not made a good start of things, Ruby—something we’ve both had a hand in—and it is time for a frank discussion.” Conrad took in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh as he collected his thoughts. “What do you wish this marriage to be?”

  Ruby watched him with wide eyes, the muscles around them tightening. Sucking in her lips, she bit down on the lower one, though Conrad doubted she realized she was doing so. Her hands tightened in her lap, but she said nothing.

  Fighting back another heaving sigh, Conrad spoke. “I am well aware of the prevailing belief that a husband is lord and master while his wife is little more than a servant, but I have no need or desire for such a marriage. I want a helpmate.”

  There was much more that he wanted, but Conrad knew better than to wish for things beyond his reach.