Giving her a somber nod of his head, Conrad replied with utmost sincerity, “Then I suppose we must name her Cruelty or Sullen.”
Ruby tried her best to keep her composure, but the absurdity of that remark had her laughing out loud, especially once Conrad joined in.
“You, sir, are ridiculous.”
But her chide had no impact on the fellow, for his grin was unrepentant. Raising his hand to her cheek, he brushed his fingers against her skin. His touch was soft, feathering along her jaw as he leaned closer to her.
“And you, madam, are a treasure,” he murmured, his breath caressing her lips.
Ruby’s heart raced at the tenderness gleaming in his gaze and the feel of him so near. There was admiration and passion radiating from him, sweeping through her until she was unable to keep her hand lacing her fingers through his.
“My dearest Ruby…”
Conrad had spoken the words, but it was Lucas’s voice she heard. That endearment he’d used so many times echoed in her mind, and Ruby pulled her hands free of Conrad’s. She shot to her feet, but with him so close and her skirts tangled about their legs, she stumbled, and only Conrad’s hand on her elbow kept her from tumbling to the floor.
“Ruby?” he asked, but she shook her head, stepping away from his touch once she regained her balance.
“What is the matter?” asked Conrad. “Please speak to me.”
Her head continued shaking as she stepped away. Ruby could not meet his eye, uncertain if she would see Conrad’s own face or Lucas’s staring back at her. He reached for her arm, but she leapt from his touch, and he raised his hands, taking a cautious step back.
“Ruby?”
But she fled out the office door, sending several of his papers fluttering off his desk, and hurried through the courtyard. Snow had begun to fall, but Ruby did not notice it or the chill seeping into her skin, and she did not stop until she was safely alone.
*
Surely there was no greater fool in the world than Conrad Ashbrook, for he stood there gaping at the empty office. A thought called out to him to give chase, but he was frozen there like the great half-wit he was, silently blinking as though that would provide some clarity.
From his spot in the doorway, Conrad saw Mr. Fields working at his desk as though nothing were amiss. The fellow did a fine job at feigning ignorance, but Conrad felt his attention on them. He doubted Mr. Fields had parsed the particulars of what had passed between them, but there was no doubt the mill manager was acutely aware that things were amiss for young Mr. and Mrs. Ashbrook.
Stepping forward, he shut his office door, never more grateful for his father’s absence from the mill; Conrad knew what would transpire should Father report to Mother that her son had once again upset Ruby, and none of it would be pleasant—though Conrad wasn’t certain how his father would describe such a scene. Conrad, himself, had been party to it and was utterly baffled.
Going to his window, Conrad confirmed that Ruby was no longer in sight. It was probably for the best; chasing such a flighty female was only bound to make her panic further.
What had happened?
Conrad made his way to his desk and collapsed onto his armchair; propping his elbow up, he rested his chin against his palm and stared out at the distant movements in the courtyard. The remnants of their picnic remained around the stove, but his stomach soured at the thought of finishing the meal alone.
Had he been a betting man, Conrad would wager Ruby had been enjoying herself. More than that, they’d felt like a family for the first time. The pair of them speaking about their child as though it was the byproduct of the usual courtship, love, and marriage. And then that charged moment when the past faded to nothing, and it was merely them together.
Over the years, more than a few young ladies had vied for his attention (though he’d had little to give them), so Conrad did not think himself puffed up or delusional to say that young ladies found him desirable. Yet his wife had fled his presence with all the care and subtlety of a runaway carriage when Conrad had intended to kiss her.
Though many gentlemen claimed that self-doubt belonged only to the ladies, Conrad could not imagine anyone receiving such a rejection with aplomb. And how was he to interpret her behavior as anything else but a resounding rejection?
Conrad had kissed a young lady before. Of course, it had been many years since those innocent tokens had been exchanged, and they’d been fueled more by curiosity than affection, but it had been a pleasant experience for both parties. Surely, his kiss wasn’t wholly unpalatable to Ruby.
Crossing his arms, Conrad leaned his head against the chair and stared at the ceiling. His heart felt like a stone thrown into a pond, sinking down until it hit the bottom with a muted thud. For several long moments, he sat thusly, puzzling about how he was to build a future with a lady who wished for nothing more than companionship.
But as he wallowed in that mire, a thought wormed its way through the muck, wriggling into his consciousness, demanding that he see the truth.
Lucas.
Straightening, Conrad stared at their abandoned chairs by the stove and thought back on all that had transpired between them of late. There had been several moments where he’d felt something stirring. An awareness of sorts. An acknowledgment of something greater and deeper evolving between them. Possibility lurked beneath the surface, begging them to explore it. He’d felt it, and Conrad swore she had as well, but where he welcomed it with open arms, Ruby fled.
But was it any wonder? Though it felt as though many months had passed since Lucas’s behavior had been discovered, the truth was it had been just over two.
Two months?
That realization had his brows pulled tight and low. Surely, it had been longer than that, but as he tallied the days, he arrived at the same number. They’d married a little over two months ago, and the revelations concerning Lucas had preceded that by a few days.
Time was an oddity that passed at varying speeds; to Conrad’s thinking, it felt as though double that time had passed, but to Ruby, it might feel like a few days. Regardless, the entirety of their acquaintance was shorter than what she’d shared with Lucas; the blackguard had spent weeks wooing her in addition to the three months Ruby had spent believing herself Mrs. Lucas Ashbrook.
Relaxing once more into his chair, Conrad crossed his arms as his eyes fell to the place she’d sat, recalling the brightness in her expression as she’d spoken. Though Ruby did have such an air of dour disapproval at times, her expression altered completely when she smiled, transforming those features into something entirely new.
And it was no surprise that she’d had little reason to smile over the past two months. Lucas had cast her aside with no remorse. Or any hint of feeling for that matter. Ruby had been a means to an end. Used and discarded with no thought.
Just the memory of that stirred a fire in his chest. Lucas may feel nothing, but a great bellows blew through Conrad, stoking that flame into a proper blaze. No one deserved to be so mistreated, but least of all someone with Ruby’s sweetness. Though he would not say she was naive, there was an innocence to her that ought to be protected and not abused.
Conrad’s breath caught, his mind linking thoughts and sentiments together to form a new understanding that struck him with such clarity he wondered how he had not fully seen it before; perhaps he had been too preoccupied with his own pain to recognize it.
A first love betrayed. There was no denying how entirely Lucas had bewitched Ruby, for it had been written plainly on her face the moment he’d appeared in Greater Edgerton—only for her to discover his betrayal. In a flash, she’d gone from blushing bride to jilted lover and all for a few pounds.
His jaw ached, and Conrad forced it to relax, though the pricking in his heart was not so easily erased.
Did Ruby think him akin to Lucas? That question raised his hackles, his teeth clenching once more. He was nothing like his brother. Surely, he’d shown that. But two months was not a long time to lea
rn to trust after such a betrayal. Lucas was crafty and skilled at twisting love and compassion to meet his needs, and Ruby had entrusted him with her whole heart.
As much as Conrad wished to erase her doubts and fears in an instant, there was no cure-all to heal her wounds. They were growing to care for each other; Conrad felt it in his heart and saw it reflected in Ruby’s gaze, though he doubted she was ready to acknowledge it. Those happy moments they’d shared this afternoon served as proof that the possibility existed. He simply needed patience.
Minutes ticked on as he sat there. Mr. Fields did not bother him, and though he heard the outer office door open and muffled inquiries ensue, no one disturbed Conrad as he pondered his wife. The sun shifted in the sky, moving along its path until the courtyard grew darker. The machinery shut down for the evening, the closing bell ringing as the workers took their leave.
It wasn’t until Mr. Fields bid farewell that Conrad bestirred himself to walk home and search for Ruby. But she was not in her parlor.
Climbing the stairs, he went to their bedchamber and found the door locked. His knocks remained unanswered, and as breaking down the door would do no good, he retreated to the library. He feigned reading a book until dinner time and then feigned eating.
Ruby still had not emerged, but their bedchamber door was unlocked when it was time to retire. Stepping through the darkened hall and into the darker bedchamber, Conrad saw the shadowy outline of his wife huddled in their bed. Her muscles were too taut for her to be properly asleep, though she did not stir when he climbed beneath the bedcovers.
Her distance pricked at his pride, but Conrad forced that unhelpful emotion out of his heart. She needed his patience, and he could give that to her. Ruby had retreated into the safety of silence, and forcing her from her protections would do nothing to help his cause. He would give her time, and then they would speak.
Ruby’s side of the mattress shivered, and habit had Conrad reaching for her before he caught himself. Distance would sentence them to a chilly night, but forcing the issue would cast him in a similar light as her father and Lucas. With the shadows of the past tainting her present, Conrad would not risk damaging the trust he was only beginning to gain.
But as he debated what to do, Ruby shifted. With small movements, she crept towards the center of the mattress. She did not speak, and Conrad let the silence linger, but as she turned towards him, he brought his arms around her, holding her to his chest. Ruby’s muscles relaxed, bringing a smile to Conrad’s lips. It may be a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless.
Yes, all they needed was time. That thought lulled him into the black abyss, and Conrad slipped off into slumber.
Chapter 20
Sleep was supposed to be a restful thing. It was widely accepted that when one lies down in one’s bed, sleep was sure to follow, as though a pillow were a magical thing that casts an enchantment on all who rest upon it. But there were times when one is caught between dreams and wakefulness, gripped in exhaustion yet unable to find repose.
Aware yet incoherent, Ruby listened to Conrad’s breathing. Her rest was by no means restful, and a twist of her stomach pulled her into consciousness. Her throat clenched, and that subtle shift came, taking her from a state of unease to panic as she cast aside the bedcovers and leapt from bed. Sprinting across the bedchamber, Ruby narrowly avoided the edge of her bedside table and hurdled through the doorway, fighting to keep from making a mess on the floor.
Rushing into the adjacent bedchamber, Ruby dropped to the floor by her secret bucket, a great retching lurch of her stomach ripping out what ought to be inside. Her knees ached from the impact with the wood, but she could not think about that pain as her body clenched, her muscles straining to clear her innards. Tears streamed as she heaved again and again.
“Ruby?”
She cast a glance towards the open door and reached with her foot to close it, but another bout had her focused on more urgent matters.
Footsteps sounded at her back, and Ruby groaned, turning her face from the doorway as Conrad rushed to her side. Her neck strained as another surge had her head ducking down once more, but there was nothing left to release. A hand held back her braid, keeping it clear of the mess, though there was little point anymore. Conrad crooned to her as she retched.
Great gusts of breath came in and out as she sat on all fours, staring down at the bucket, the scent of it sending her stomach churning once more. But she closed her eyes, forcing the air to loosen her chest.
Hands came to her arms, lifting her to her feet.
“Please don’t,” she said, her voice a tiny whine. “I cannot stand to move.”
“You’ll catch your death,” he whispered, his arms wrapping around her. “And as much as I wish I could claim the strength to lift a fair damsel in distress, I fear I will need your assistance.”
“Not on the bed. I am a mess,” she murmured.
“This is not the time to worry about that.”
Ruby leaned into him, letting him take much of her weight as he led her the last few feet to the bed. The movement set her insides swimming, and she groaned, her hands clutching his arm. He set her down gently and, with a few quick strides, retrieved the bucket, bringing it close just as she needed it again.
Kneeling before her, he held it up as she moaned and heaved, though there was nothing left inside her. The feeling subsided, but Conrad remained where he was for several more moments, speaking a string of comforting nonsense to her.
*
Conrad’s own insides clenched at the sound of Ruby’s retching. Luckily, the stench did not upset his stomach, or he might have joined her; no one listening to the sounds she made could feel otherwise. Her whole body seized, and Conrad tensed, keeping the bucket firmly where she needed it as the last vestiges left her.
When he was quite sure that this bout had run its course, he set the bucket aside and helped Ruby lie down. Stepping away once more, he retrieved a lamp, lighting it before he strode back to her side. His bare feet hit small splatters of sick, but he refused to think about it.
A blanket lay across the bed at her feet, and he unfolded it, spreading it out across her. Dragging over a chair, he sat beside the bed, her half-lidded eyes watching his movements. Her forehead was damp, cementing stray hairs to her skin. With gentle hands, he brushed aside a lock that had fallen across her face.
“I didn’t wish for you to see this,” she murmured.
That was ludicrous, but that was not a discussion to be had when her whole body was quivering with exhaustion. Conrad took her hand in his, brushing a thumb across her knuckles.
“Was it all our talking during luncheon?” he asked, his brows pulled together. “I understand that conversation at meals wreaks havoc with the digestion.”
Ruby silently blinked at him for several long moments—just enough time for Conrad to feel an inkling of worry that his jest had been unappreciated. But then she gave a broken chuckle, something that was part whimper and part laugh, the corners of her mouth twisting into a hesitant smile. Conrad’s own grew, adding a mischievous glint to his gaze, and Ruby’s laughter deepened. Though it was tainted by exhaustion, it did his heart good to hear it.
But then the hand he held gripped his tighter, her brows pulling together. Conrad reached for the bucket, but Ruby shook her head, her chin quivering as the chuckles melted into tears. Her expression crumpled, her body curling in on itself as her cries grew into sobs. Scooting his chair closer, Conrad nudged the bucket out of his way and drew as near as their positions would allow.
Ruby’s head half hung off the edge of the mattress, her braid dangling down, and he pressed his cheek against her hot forehead. Her breaths shuddered and broke, the tears wetting the bed linens. Conrad’s heart wrenched, his mind churning through possibilities, searching for anything he might do to ease her pain. But there were no dragons to slay and no quests to fulfill. All he could do was hold her hand and wait as her tears subsided.
“I know your condi
tion is difficult, but it will be over soon,” he said. The words were of little comfort, to be sure, but knowing there was an end to the misery might ease some of the pain.
“No, it won’t,” she mumbled through broken breaths.
Pulling away, Conrad examined her expression, searching for the meaning of those words. Her wide eyes were red and bright with tears, her lips pulled into a grimace as she shook her head as though that might erase the words she’d spoken.
“What do you mean?” With their relative positions, it wasn’t comfortable to thread their hands together, so Conrad contented himself with running his fingers along hers, brushing his thumbs across her palms as he awaited her answer.
Ruby’s lips pressed tight together, but it did not hide their trembling. Her eyes closed, scrunching as though she could hide from the thoughts plaguing her.
“I hate this child,” she whispered.
*
Conrad’s touch stilled, and Ruby tugged at her hands, wishing she could turn away from him, but his hold did not slacken.
How could she have admitted that aloud? What mother harbors such thoughts, let alone gives voice to them? Her stomach rolled, though the tightness and weight had nothing to do with the illness that had seized her moments ago.
“Ruby.” His voice was so soft and faint that she thought she’d imagined it, but when he repeated it, she finally opened her eyes. Conrad’s gaze held none of the disgust she’d anticipated. Surely, he had not heard her, for Ruby could not understand how he could gaze upon her with such warmth and compassion.
“It is difficult enough struggling with the fatigue and illness, but the thought of having to raise his child…” Her throat squeezed tight, and Ruby shook her head and tugged at her hands, but Conrad did not relent. His fingers continued to brush along her skin, their firm yet tender touches connecting her to him.
The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2) Page 18
