The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  The main office door opened, and Conrad moved to greet her, stepping through the doorway between the private office and Mr. Fields’ domain as Ruby greeted the fellow seated at his desk.

  “And is Mrs. Fields on the mend?” she asked as Tommy came in and deposited the basket in its usual place on Conrad’s desk.

  Mr. Fields gave her a fatherly smile and nodded. “She’s doing much better and told me to thank you for the handkerchiefs. They were almost too beautiful to touch.”

  Ruby ducked her head with a pleased smile. “I am thankful to have been of assistance. A head cold is a miserable thing and always demands more handkerchiefs than one has on hand.”

  Raising her head once more, Ruby turned to Conrad, and he was stunned at the picture she made. Her cheeks were reddened from the winter chill in the air, but they gave her a glow that added to the one emanating from deep within her heart.

  And her hair was different. Fashion dictated either a flurry of controlled curls or impossibly straight and sleek hair, and Ruby favored the latter. As her features tended towards the severe, that style added to her frigid air and did not flatter in the least. But today, her dark coiffure was loose, revealing a faint wave to her locks, and strands fell free, framing her face in a careless but entirely natural manner.

  “I do apologize for being late,” she said, her fingers flying down the front of her jacket as she unbuttoned it.

  “Nonsense.” Conrad stepped closer to help her with it. “You styled your hair differently today.”

  Ruby bit down on her lips, her hands flying upwards to pat at it. “I know it is a mess, but I did not have the time to dress it properly—”

  “That is not what I meant,” he said, his eyes trailing over her features. Raising a finger, he brushed one of the locks. “You look lovely.”

  Ruby stiffened as his finger ran across her cheek as well, her gaze focusing on that whisper of a touch. Wide eyes met his, and the air shifted between them. For several quiet moments, they stood there, eyes and bodies locked in place.

  A thought struck Conrad—one he’d never believed would come, but it slithered into his mind and through his chest to wrap itself around his heart, nestling there with sudden clarity. He wanted to kiss his wife. Not from some sense of obligation or to behave as a married couple ought to, but because his heart demanded it.

  Conrad couldn’t say with any surety that the impulse was born of love, but neither could he deny that the seeds were planted and beginning to sprout. Ruby had far more spirit and strength than he’d been willing to see before, and the more he came to know her, the more he admired that goodness and sweetness of temper that made up every facet of her being.

  Were her lips as soft as that cheek?

  “Luncheon!” Ruby blurted. The word came out in a squeak, darting for the basket.

  Conrad thought about snatching it away and pulling her into his arms, but her deliberate, brittle movements gave him pause, and he watched as she set about her task. It would not do to hurry his quarry and startle her further.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured, pulling back the linens to examine the food.

  Conrad stepped closer, and Ruby gave another little start as his shoulder brushed hers. His eyes met hers, but her expression gave him no clarity as to why her contented air disappeared when he was so near. Holding back a frustrated sigh, Conrad forced himself to remember that she was a timid creature and far too easily frightened.

  “I fear I was overly generous today,” she said, revealing that nearly all of their food was gone. Turning to face him, she bit on her lip with a pinched expression. “I was so flustered from being late, and there were so many more children there today. I couldn’t bear to turn any away, and I was not paying attention to how much food remained.”

  Glancing into the basket, he found only a hunk of bread and cheese and a single apple. Though she was silent, Conrad could hear the worry thrumming through her. It mattered little to him, for he would not starve, but there was no mistaking its significance to her.

  “It is perfect,” he said, meeting her worried gaze. “I shall make you my special toasted cheese.”

  Ruby’s brows rose, and Conrad led her out of the way before moving the chairs to the stove in the corner of the office. As both he, his father, and Mr. Fields enjoyed that treat from time to time, they had a toasting fork on hand, and Conrad fetched it from its resting place.

  “Please, allow me,” she said, reaching for the bread and cheese as Conrad began slicing.

  “Sit,” he said, nodding at the chair. Placing the sandwich on the end of the fork, Conrad held it next to the stove, keeping a weather eye on it as it cooked. “Now, what had you so occupied this morning?”

  The question was met with silence, and he cast a glance in Ruby’s direction. There was a pinch to her lips, and her hands twisted in her lap in a manner that made him think she felt embarrassed.

  “Out with it,” he said with a smile. When she met his eye, he gave her a wink, which had her spine straightening.

  Ruby watched him with a curious expression before finally relaxing into her seat and saying with chagrin, “I was rearranging the parlor.”

  “Yet again?” Conrad’s smile grew.

  Hers grew slowly, though her hands remained twisted in her lap. “I know it is silly, but there is something not quite right. With a few more adjustments, it will be perfect.”

  “I am certain it will be,” he said, taking the toast away from the stove for a quick check before returning it to the heat. “Arrange it as many times as you like, as long as you are careful. I do not want you straining yourself.”

  “It was only the decorations,” Ruby admitted with a wrinkle of her nose. “Though I do think the armchair needs shifting, I will not attempt to move it myself. But the shelves are too bare and need something more, which is how I ended up searching the attic, and that is an entire mess all on its own. Before long, I lost track of the time while I was mucking about up there.”

  “When you are through with the house, perhaps you can turn your attention to this office.”

  That was met by silence Conrad could not interpret on its own. Looking from the food to his wife, he found her bright eyes fixed on him.

  “You wish me to?” she asked.

  Conrad’s brows rose. “I wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

  Ruby dropped her head, and he stilled, watching with wide eyes and bated breath, uncertain what he had said to offend her. But then her gaze rose to meet his, those golden-brown eyes gleaming in the dim office. A tentative smile pulled at her lips.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, though he wasn’t certain what it was she was thanking him for. It seemed such a little thing to him, but even a fool could see it meant a great deal to her. Conrad did not understand the importance, but simply thanked the heavens his words had been the correct ones.

  Conrad pulled the fork clear of the stove, placed the toasted bread onto a serviette, and handed it to Ruby as cheese dripped down the crust. She took the apple and cut it into quarters as he readied his own sandwich.

  *

  There are moments that appear with little fanfare or warning. Simple things that upend one’s understanding of the world and strike with profound power. Sitting beside her husband as he prepared them a luncheon of toasted cheese, Ruby knew this was one such moment.

  From an outsider’s perspective, there was nothing terribly unique about it. A simple meal shared between husband and wife with a conversation that meandered as all great conversations do, touching on all the little nothings of their lives. Yet it typified the stark contrast between her past and present. It was strange to think of that long-ago time when life had been filled with all the stagnant propriety born of her class. Had Mama seen her eating such a meal before a stove—and with her fingers, no less—the lady would’ve had a fainting spell. And another one when she discovered Conrad was the cook.

  Even their words were filled with an ease and comfort that never existed in the Jef
fries’ home. Her parents did not chat, and Papa would certainly never have spoken to Mama about the goings-on of his business.

  Thoughts of that past and her family brought an ache to her heart, even as it colored the present in golden hues. For this was her life. Ruby did not know how to fully express the gratitude she felt for the change, even though it came at the loss of all she’d loved before.

  Ruby shook free of those thoughts, refusing to allow that pain to taint this beauteous moment of a little toasted cheese cooked on an office stove by her husband.

  Conrad looked up from his meal, giving her a grin that made him look younger than his twenty-five years as he chuckled over the mess of cheese dripping down his hands, and Ruby couldn’t stifle her own laugh as he tried to stem the flood running down the edges of his bread to no avail. His eyes gleamed as they met hers, and Ruby’s heart gave an erratic flutter in her chest.

  Forcing a smile, she feigned contentment while the world shifted once more, and she forced her flighty heart back into place as it reached for Conrad, fighting against her control. That silly organ could not be trusted—not with Lucas looming behind her, reminding her of the mistakes it had made. Conrad was a good man, and he clearly desired their mutual happiness, but that did not warrant her fawning over him like that simpleton who’d fallen so willingly into Lucas’s bed.

  Yet still, her heart yearned to open itself to Conrad, unwilling to remember the pain that had nearly crushed it only a few weeks ago and how sincere Lucas had appeared when he’d spoken of their future together filled with beautiful moments just like this.

  And even if Conrad proved to be all he appeared to be, there was no guarantee he’d return her feelings, or that such sentiments would flourish over the ensuing years. People fall in and out of love with little thought to the agony it caused to the object of their affection. Marriages grow cold. Love dies. Yet Ruby’s heart would not forget so easily; she’d be bound to a man who did not return her affection.

  If she needed any further reminder, the babe inside her made itself known, nudging her with tiny movements, each one prodding her to recall that it was not Conrad’s child she bore.

  “What is the matter?” asked Conrad, ignoring the toasted cheese to turn his attention to her.

  Ruby took a bite of apple to give herself time to respond, and when she spoke, it was a partial truth. “Tommy said there are rumors of a strike forming. I’d hoped things were improving.”

  Gone was that laughing smile of his, and Ruby wished she hadn’t spoken.

  “What precisely did he say?” he asked, and when Ruby relayed the short conversation, Conrad shook his head. “I was afraid word would get out. Culpepper is too free with his threats, and he is still campaigning the masters to follow Preston’s example and begin a lock-out.”

  Her brows pinched together. “But for them to shut down the mills—even temporarily—would be foolhardy.”

  “Like too many gentlemen with money, he believes it makes him infallible. He has it in his head that workers need to understand they are expendable.” Conrad snorted. “As though industrious, skilled, and honest workers are commonplace. I fear he would rather return to the days of slavery and simply beat the work out of them. Or have them pay us for the pleasure of working long days at our machines.”

  Shoulders slumped, Ruby picked at the remnants of her toasted cheese. “Then the dinner party did no good.”

  Conrad reached for her hand, giving it a tight squeeze and drawing her gaze to his. “Not at all. Culpepper was never likely to be swayed by a bit of good cheer, but I have seen many benefits come from it. My standing among the masters has risen significantly. And it clarified where each master stands on the wage issue.”

  With a smile, he let go of her hand, and Ruby stared at her palm, cursing herself for longing to snatch it up again. There were too many unpleasant possibilities—probabilities—to rush headlong into such a fickle sentiment as love.

  “I’ve pondered over what you said about whether I am acting out of prudence or fear,” he said, setting the remnant food on his desk and shifting his chair to face her better.

  Ruby’s brows rose. “You have? That was well over a month ago.”

  “It was quite profound and gave me much to think over, though I am no closer to understanding which is my motivation.”

  Clenching her hands, Ruby fought to slow her heartbeat. But there was nothing to be done about the warmth flooding her that had naught to do with her proximity to the stove.

  “Do you think I am being fearful or prudent?” he asked.

  Chapter 19

  Ruby’s eyes darted to his, her brows rising. Her hands clenched her skirts before she dropped her gaze once more. She mumbled some words Conrad couldn’t hear over the mill, but he understood their meaning well enough.

  “I wish to know your opinion, Ruby,” he pushed. “You are observant and watchful. I know you see and understand far more than you express. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  His wife sat quietly for several long moments, and Conrad watched as she mused over his petition. Ruby’s eyes crept upwards to meet his, her brows pinched together as she worried her lips. There was something so innocent and sweet about that thoughtful look of hers, and Conrad found himself praying she would share the thoughts churning about her mind.

  “You have seen the damage that can come from the mill floundering,” she said. “I believe you hold onto that doll of Susie’s not just as a reminder of your friendship but as an admonition for you as a master. Her family’s tragedy is coloring your choices, making you afraid of any step that might make the mill financially unstable. You hope having the masters unified and aligned will mitigate the risk that comes with raising the wages, as you can support each other should the worst happen.”

  Conrad leaned away, crossing his arms with a pensive grunt. Ruby paused, and he prodded her, “But?”

  She shook her head, but he would not leave it be.

  “There was a distinct tone to your words. You have more to say but are holding your tongue,” he said with a challenging raise of his brows.

  Taking in a breath, Ruby hurried to add, “But it is a mistake to trust the generosity of greedy men.”

  Conrad let out a chuckling breath that held more than its fair share of scoff. When Ruby hunched away, he took her by the hands once more.

  “I have spent most of a year debating this point. I cannot count the restless nights it has caused me,” he said, giving a shake of the head that was part amusement and part frustration. “And in a few succinct sentences, you have shown more clarity than I gained in all those wasted hours.”

  There was something both breathtaking and heartbreaking about the look in her eyes as she thought over his words. Her shoulders were tight as though ready to flee, and Ruby held his gaze with such hope mixed with longing and fear.

  Lifting her hand to his lips, Conrad pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you, Ruby.”

  When he lowered it, their clasped hands rested on her thigh. A tiny movement from her womb nudged them, and Conrad stared at the source. At night when Ruby was wrapped up next to him, Conrad had felt little movements like that, but it was different in the light of day.

  “Does it do that often?” It was likely a silly question, but Conrad asked it before he thought the better of it.

  “At times,” she said.

  “It’s growing stronger,” he murmured. Watching the spot where the child had moved, Conrad wondered if it would do so again.

  Shifting her hand, Ruby took his and guided it to another place, holding his palm flat against the swell. For a silent moment they waited. And then, the child pushed against Conrad’s hand. Blinking, he stared at it and then at Ruby. The three of them sat there, with Conrad and Ruby’s hands pressed to the place where the child faintly bumped and moved.

  “That’s our child,” he whispered.

  *

  There was a light in Conrad’s eyes as he watched her and the babe, his hand
fixed to the place where the babe stirred, but hearing those words from his lips made the world halt around them.

  Their child.

  Conrad moved to draw closer, his knees bumping hers as he shifted until he found a comfortable position. The child rolled, and Ruby guided Conrad’s hands to the movement, a smile growing on his face.

  “That is amazing,” he murmured.

  “Not when I am trying to sleep,” she replied with a smile of her own.

  Conrad’s knees wove between hers, his legs tangling in her skirts as he watched the child with unblinking fascination. “What do you think of the name Adam?”

  Ruby’s breath caught at the question. She could not say what it was about his tone that touched her so. It was simple and straightforward. A conversation that many parents shared when anticipating a birth. And perhaps that was the reason for her lungs seizing. He spoke as though they were any ordinary couple. Husband and wife. Father and mother. A united pair who’d given life to this child.

  With a quick swallow to clear her throat, Ruby replied, “I knew a young man by that name who pulled my braids in church.”

  Conrad nodded. “Then not Adam.” He paused and then added, “George?” But he shook his head at his own suggestion.

  Ruby wished she had some name to offer up, but her mind could not supply one at present. “And what if it is a girl?”

  Conrad cocked his head to the side and thought. “Jane? Or Angela? And I have always liked the name Charity.”

  Ruby bit back a smile. “Though I do like the sound of Charity, young ladies named after virtues often are the antithesis of their name. Perhaps the most uncharitable woman I have ever known was named Charity. And I knew another named Prudence who had not a shred of common sense or caution. I could say the same for Angel and Faith.”