The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  “You’re safe,” he murmured. “I went to my parents’ home, but you weren’t there.”

  “We sent word,” she replied.

  “After seeing the townhouse, I couldn’t rest easy until I saw you were well with my own eyes.” Conrad hadn’t meant to say that much, but he had not the faculties to guard his tongue.

  Ruby straightened and met his gaze with a heartbroken twist of her brows. “Our house?”

  Conrad’s chin trembled, but he took a deep breath before answering. “It’s all gone.”

  Her breath hitched, and Ruby’s expression crumpled, squeezing her eyes tight. But then they flew open and she tensed. “Mrs. Seymour and Fanny?”

  “Fanny sent word to Oak Hall that she is with her family,” said Conrad, “and I saw Mrs. Seymour working with a crew of women to keep the fire and bucket brigades fed while we worked.”

  “Then the fire is contained?”

  “Yes, but the damage was great.” Conrad took her into his arms again, needing to feel her; her touch was a balm that wrapped itself around his heart, filling him with her gentle strength.

  From behind them, a patient groaned, and Ruby pulled away and sat on a stool beside a poor fellow whose right arm was mangled and twisted in unnatural angles. Taking his good hand in hers, she crooned to him and lifted a cup of water to his lips.

  Any thought of returning to his parents’ home fled, for Conrad knew the only way he’d tear Ruby from her duties would be to emulate her dictatorial father. Not that he wished to. He’d been so focused on addressing the most pressing issue—the fire—and had not given thought to all the other necessary work. His body longed to sleep, but there would be no rest for either of them when there was still so much to be done.

  “What can I do?” asked Conrad.

  Ruby glanced at him and back at her patient. “Your mother is organizing food and water for the patients and workers, but I believe she has plenty of assistants. But your father is procuring supplies and may have need—”

  “I need to stay with you.” The answer came quickly and without thought, speaking the unvarnished truth. After all he’d experienced this day, Conrad could not bear to leave her.

  “The doctors are seeing patients as quickly as they can, while I and the other nurses watch over the rest. I sit with them, hold their hands, give them some water. I am not doing much,” she said, her expression falling with a reproachful frown.

  Her patient stirred, his words coming out slurred and gravelly. “Not true. Nothing better than having a pretty lady hold my hand.”

  “You charmer,” she replied with a sniffled chuckle. But the fellow’s head turned, his jaw tightening as he let out a low moan. Reaching into the bucket beside her, she wrung out a wet cloth and dabbed at his forehead.

  Turning her gaze to Conrad, she added, “If you could look after those on bedrolls. It is difficult for me to reach them.”

  Conrad nodded and moved to the next patient over, who was laid across the floor. Sitting on the cold wooden planks beside the fellow, Conrad followed Ruby’s promptings and hoped he was doing some good for the poor soul.

  ***

  Ruby stumbled through the bedchamber door, kept upright only with Conrad’s assistance. Though she hadn’t marked the precise time she’d entered Crawley’s warehouse, she knew it was at least twenty-four hours previous. Her body certainly felt each one of those hours, though her heart thought it had been days.

  Conrad shut the door, and Ruby moved to the curtains, pulling them tight against the afternoon sun. Neither spoke as they moved about their borrowed bedchamber, stripping off their garments. Reaching for his vest, Conrad groaned as he moved his arms, and Ruby watched him struggle to lift them.

  “I think I have lost all use of my limbs,” he mumbled as Ruby came to his side and helped him. They worked together, divesting each other of the most cumbersome and uncomfortable articles. Ruby glanced at the armoire and saw that Mother had laid out a nightgown, but she had not the energy to change out of her chemise.

  Ruby collapsed onto her side of the bed, and Conrad soon followed, but his weight made the mattress shift and bow, rolling her into his chest, which was well and fine, as it had saved her from having to move of her own volition.

  “This bed is a tad smaller than ours,” she murmured, laying her head on his shoulder.

  Conrad gave a low chuckle that rumbled through her. “I shan’t complain when it brings these results.”

  If pressed, Ruby would not have been able to explain why that struck her as humorous, but a burble of laughter built in her chest, growing until she laughed out loud, and Conrad joined in. It was mirth born from exhaustion but quickly grew pained until it dissolved into tears. Both hearts broke as they clung together, though Ruby did not know if she was crying for those who had perished, their loved ones who mourned them, the great blow to their town, or the loss of the home she prized so dearly.

  As much as her body ached, her mind dwelled on those pains, not allowing her the relief of sleep.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Ruby lifted her head to meet Conrad’s red eyes. His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes. “When I found the house gone, I feared I had lost you with it.” Opening his eyes, Conrad raised a hand to her cheek. “I know you are not ready to accept it or trust that I do, but I cannot leave it unsaid any longer. You need to know I am grateful you are my wife and proud of what you did today.”

  Ruby’s heart burned in her chest, pumping that warmth through her until she felt aglow with it. She opened her mouth, though she didn’t know how to respond to such a declaration.

  “You needn’t reply. Not yet,” he murmured. “I know my heart, but I do not want you to speak yours until you are ready to do so. I simply need you to know in no uncertain terms that I love you.”

  Dropping her head to his chest once more, Ruby nestled closer, but before she could give any thought to what had just transpired, Conrad spoke again.

  “I don’t know what will happen to the town. This will be a blow to many.”

  “What of Newland Mills?” she asked.

  Conrad sighed, raising Ruby’s head with that deep breath. “Between insurance and our savings, we should have the money to rebuild. But there will be hard times ahead for all of us.”

  Ruby’s eyelids grew heavy as Conrad’s chest rocked her. “We will manage it. Together.”

  There was a long pause, and Ruby drifted into nothingness, but before she lost all sense of the world around her, Conrad pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  “Yes, we will,” he whispered.

  Chapter 23

  Squinting against the morning sun, Ruby stepped into the church courtyard. The winter air bit at her skin, but it held not a trace of smoke, for which she gave thanks. For days afterward, the town had stunk of it, and for several more, the acrid undertones reminder had lingered. Now, a sennight later, one could almost forget that blackened rubble lay not far from where she stood.

  The clouds overhead were thick, and though they cast a gray pall over the parishioners, Ruby sent out a prayer of gratitude. Surely, they would bring a dusting of snow to cover the soot that coated the town.

  The congregation drifted out of the church, and though Mrs. Ashbrook spoke with a few ladies in the neighborhood, Ruby was more content to cling to the edges of the crowd. As the weather was hardly conducive to standing about, she’d expected everyone to disperse quickly, but they lingered, reaching out to each other for the support their community so desperately needed.

  Conrad stood with his father and the other mill owners and gentlemen of business, and Ruby’s heart filled with such contentment—far more than their difficult situation warranted. The world may look dreary, but she felt as though she were standing in an open field on a bright summer’s day, the sun warming her through.

  Even the burdens she’d fostered since Lucas had broken her heart felt lighter, for it was Conrad’s embrace that chased away her nightmares. What they’d witne
ssed during the fire plagued their sleep most nights, but they found solace in each other’s arms. And even Lucas’s long shadow could not darken that.

  “It does me good to see your marriage thriving,” said the vicar from beside her.

  A smile tugged at Ruby’s lips, and she turned her attention to her husband. Whatever lay between them, there was no denying that all was well at the moment. Ruby’s heart pulled her to Conrad, and though she was not ready to rush ahead, he demanded nothing of her, simply courting her affection as thoroughly as any beau.

  As she watched Conrad, his expression hardened, and Ruby’s own pinched as she wondered what about his conversation had him at odds.

  Shoving aside such worries, Ruby met the vicar’s gaze with a contentment that drove away the winter’s chill. “As am I, Mr. Rushworth. I hadn’t thought to find such peace, but I find myself quite happy with the Ashbrooks.”

  Mr. Rushworth’s smile softened. “That lightens my heart to hear. Though I am sorry about Newland Mills.”

  Ruby’s chest constricted, and she nodded, giving herself a moment to control her emotions before she answered. “My family and our workers are unharmed, and that is well worth celebrating. All else can be rebuilt.”

  “Too true,” he said with a nod, turning his gaze to his flock. “As painful as our losses are, it was a blessing that more was not lost.”

  Ruby glanced from Conrad to Mr. Rushworth. “If you know of anything I might do to be of assistance, please tell me. I have been thinking of ways to help, but I fear I am uncertain as to what needs doing.”

  Mr. Rushworth met her question with a raise of his eyebrow. “You have enough troubles of your own.”

  “Nonsense,” she said with a shake of her head. “My husband and father-in-law have the workers clearing out the rubble and have plans to rebuild. Things will be tight, but we are much better off than others.”

  Tucking his hands behind him, Mr. Rushworth nodded. “Not everyone would see it that way, but if you can procure charity baskets, it would be a great help. I often bring them to the less fortunate, but there are so many more of late and that number will only increase as winter goes on.”

  She straightened and gave him a firm nod. “Certainly. And perhaps I could work with some of the other ladies to gather more.”

  But before Ruby and Mr. Rushworth could discuss it further, Conrad strode up with a grim expression, his muscles tight. “Are you ready to leave?”

  Ruby did wish to linger and discuss the details with Mr. Rushworth, but Conrad thrummed with a nasty energy that begged to be let loose, and her conversation could easily wait for a better time. Giving Mr. Rushworth a farewell, she took her husband’s arm and followed him out of the churchyard.

  Conrad didn’t speak, but Ruby did not need words to know he was upset. His footsteps moved at a quick pace, and she nearly had to jog to keep up with him. When she began panting, Conrad glanced at her, shook his head at himself and slowed.

  “I apologize,” he said with a sigh.

  “What is the matter?”

  Conrad’s pace quickened, but Ruby tugged on his arm, and he slowed again.

  “You were right,” he said.

  “About what?”

  But he did not seem to hear her as he fairly growled and said, more to himself than her, “Culpepper is a snake.”

  When he did not elaborate, Ruby steered him towards a park to their left and led him to a stone bench. Forcing him to sit, she faced him. “What has happened?”

  Jaw clenched tight, Conrad glared at the ground, taking several moments before answering. “He is telling the other owners that this is a boon for those untouched by the fire as there will be an abundance of laborers willing to take work at a lesser rate. He’s cutting wages.”

  Ruby gaped at him. “How can he do that at such a time? That is criminal.”

  “That is commerce. Or so he claims,” he grumbled. With another sigh, Conrad met Ruby’s eyes. “You were right to counsel me against courting the masters’ good opinion. Those in his camp are looking at this situation with greedy eyes, and for all their talk of a guild, they have no interest in assisting those who’ve lost their mills. They are claiming it is God’s will they are ruined.”

  With a huff, Ruby crossed her arms, turning her attention to the frost-covered grass and trees. “It is God’s will that we love and serve each other.”

  Conrad slanted her a look from the corner of his eye. “Perhaps I should’ve had you debate with the fools following Culpepper.”

  Ruby drew nearer, leaning her weight against him, and Conrad drew an arm around her. With her bonnet, she could not rest her head against his shoulder, as she wished to, but it was enough to have him close as they watched other couples stroll along the pathways.

  *

  The bench was supremely uncomfortable, and the cold seeped through the stone into his backside, but Conrad would happily stay there until he froze through if it meant sitting thusly with Ruby. He didn’t know if she realized how often she cozied up next to him of late. Evenings spent with Mother reading aloud found the pair of them on the sofa in just such a manner, though in that more private setting, she was wont to rest her head on his shoulder.

  Something was shifting between them. Whether or not Ruby knew or accepted it, he was slowly working his way through her barriers. Though Conrad wished for greater speed, any impatience faded to the background during perfect moments such as this.

  “Mr. Bixby and several others are gathering funds to help Mr. Nott and Mr. Fitzgibbon rebuild. They offered to aid us as well, but we are better situated than the others,” said Conrad. His voice grew ponderous, and he huffed. “It looks as though we are becoming a masters’ guild of a sort, though not what Culpepper intends. And we’ve agreed to raise wages.”

  Straightening, Ruby met Conrad’s gaze. “At this time?”

  “When the mills reopen. If we work together, we can negotiate lower prices for our cotton supply, which will allow us to honor our agreement with the workers.”

  Ruby smiled, and that little movement set her face aglow. Easing closer once more, their shared warmth staved off any chill in the air.

  “But what will happen in the meantime?” she asked. “I worry about those who were already struggling.”

  “Many of our workers are employed in rebuilding.”

  Ruby turned her gaze to look at him. “But what of the women? They are not employed for that sort of labor and thus are left without income. Families like Tommy’s will starve. Mr. Rushworth spoke of charity baskets, but that will not be enough, nor will it help with their rent.”

  Conrad’s arm tightened around her, and she turned her eyes back to the frost-covered trees as they both were swept up in their thoughts.

  “Perhaps I can speak with the mill owner’s wives and other ladies around town. Together we might organize a bazaar or charity event to raise funds for those without work,” she said in a quiet voice, as though she feared he would object.

  “That is a brilliant plan, Ruby.” Conrad’s lips twisted into a grin as he recognized that it was the perfect time to give her the package in his pocket. “Perhaps you could sell some of your embroideries. The ladies envy the shawl you gave Mother, and you could sell a dozen in a snap.”

  “I haven’t the tools.” Ruby spoke the words quietly, though he felt the sorrow beneath them.

  Conrad gave a vague grunt and pulled a box from his jacket pocket. “Then I suppose you will have to use this.”

  Ruby straightened and looked from the thin wooden case to Conrad and back again. When she did not take it, he placed it in her hand.

  “It is not as fine as your kit,” he said as she lifted the lid to find the sewing accoutrements on display inside. “But we can improve on it.”

  “We cannot afford such extravagance at such a time,” she said, shaking her head and shutting the box.

  “Nonsense. We are not destitute,” he said, pulling his hand out of reach when she tried to give the box bac
k. “I could not bear the thought of you being denied something you love so dearly. There is a pile of fabric and embroidery threads awaiting you at home.”

  Ruby clutched the box to her chest, and it was clear to see the battle she fought between loving the gift and wishing the funds unspent. She opened her mouth several times as though to speak, though nothing emerged.

  “I…” her voice broke, and Ruby shook her head as though she could not decide what words to say. Then, leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his cheek and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Conrad held her gaze, and Ruby did not distance herself. The barest move would bring them together and make that which he’d longed to do a reality. The little kiss on his cheek stoked a fire in his chest, which begged him to do so. A mere inch or two was not such a great distance. Her eyes held his, and there was no denying the desire he saw in her gaze. Ruby's eyes begged for it, but beneath that passion was a hint of something begging him to pull away.

  “Hey, lovebirds!” shouted a street vendor as he passed with his cart, and Ruby gasped.

  Cheeks blazing, she straightened and edged away from him. Conrad had never been a violent type, but he felt the strongest urge to pummel the jester. But perhaps it was for the best; as much as it pained him, Conrad knew Ruby wasn’t ready for it.

  Getting to his feet, Conrad offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. Threading her arm through his, Conrad ignored her stiffness and meandered down the path as she relaxed once more. Fat flakes of snow drifted through the air, and the pair watched their slow descent. The world hushed, as though all of nature was watching with awed reverence as the fluff coated the ground.

  Ruby slipped the sewing kit into her pocket and then held out her free hand, catching a few flurries and grinning at him with a brightness in her eyes that was too often absent. Conrad could not look away from the picture she made. It was sweetness, innocence, and joy all wrapped together in one lovely package, though he knew Ruby had ample reason to be devoid of all three.