by Lavinia Kent
Her grandfather nodded and the bolt was unfurled on the table. There must have been ten yards of the fabric, more than enough for even the most complicated of gowns—or coats. The bolt was almost certain to end up in Prinny’s hands. It would be a tangled web of go-betweens until the fabric lay before the soon-to-be king, but she knew her grandfather would manage the intricate dealings, only…
“If it goes directly to the regent you’ll never get paid for it.”
Grandfather reached out and stroked the fabric. “I know, but I can’t imagine anyone else wearing it.”
“Perhaps you could find someone who would give it to the regent as a gift, someone who wishes to curry favor.”
Her grandfather moved his hand from the fabric to her cheek, stroking it in much the same manner. “You are a smart one, perhaps too smart.” His lips curled. His hand dropped and he turned back to the men who stood awaiting his command. “Roll it up again and be sure it is well covered. When it is wrapped again, bring it to my office. I’d rather not leave it lying about on the shelves.”
The men hurried to obey.
Emma stroked the fabric one last time, loving the way it changed as she brushed the shallow nap. It would make a wonderful coat. Perhaps she should send a piece to her father. The Duke of Scarlett had always had a fancy for red. She pursed her lips. Madame Rouge had not come by her name by accident.
“Come along with me, child,” her grandfather said, interrupting her thoughts. “Let’s see this properly put away and then I need to talk with you.”
Now, that was worrisome. Grandfather was not a man for “talks.”
Watching the men lift the heavy bolt, she followed them up the steep stairs that led to the office. Grandfather liked the small, high space that let him keep an eye on all the happenings below. He often left the door open so that he had full view of the entire warehouse.
This time, as soon as the men had stored the precious textile, he closed the door with a snap.
Without being asked, Emma moved to the high stool that sat beside his desk and, arranging her skirts with care, perched on the edge. She stared down at her hands and waited.
“It is time for you to wed.”
Her head jerked up. She could not have heard that correctly. All she could do was blink.
“I know your grandmother has mentioned it to you, but you do not seem to have listened.”
“I don’t see…” Her voice trailed off under her grandfather’s stare.
“I am getting older and I would like to have someone to pass the business on to. You need a husband.”
She sat straighter. “I am sure that you understand that is impossible.”
“I understand no such thing. You are attractive enough and I will give you a sufficient dowry. I know you are a little long in the tooth, but it is not too late yet.”
“It is more complicated than that.”
“If you give up your foolish ideas it does not need to be.”
She could imagine no circumstance where that would be true—although there was no way she could explain that to her grandfather. “And who do you imagine would have me to wife?”
“I could find any number of men.” A strange look passed over her grandfather’s face. “I daresay that my assistant, Wyeth, would take you.”
Wyeth was probably a few years older than her grandfather. “I am not so sure—and I am even less sure that we would suit.”
Her grandfather stared at her, hard. “I don’t see why not. He’s a hard worker and he’s always liked you.”
Was he being deliberately obtuse? “You know very well why it would not work.”
“No, I do not.” His eyes remained calm.
She did not want to play this game. Even if she could never speak of the full truth of why she could not marry, there were other reasons. “Yes, you do. As you said, I am old. And let us not forget that I am a bastard.”
“I have already spoken with him—and he has no problem with the idea.”
“You’ve what?” She didn’t know if she sounded furious or merely surprised. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what she felt.
“If you agree, the banns can be read next week.”
There were no words. There were simply no words.
“There’s no need to look at me like that, child. I have not lost my senses. If anything, I have finally come into them. I’ve spent far too long without an heir. It is time you supply me with one. I will do what I need to make that happen.”
So he didn’t merely want her to have a husband, he wanted her to have a child, a son, as well. “Does he know about me? About my life?”
“He knows as much as he needs to.” Her grandfather did not meet her gaze.
“So he doesn’t know, doesn’t know about my mother and my father.” Not that she was surprised. What man would marry her knowing who she truly was? And that wasn’t even bringing Madame Rouge into the picture.
“He knows enough. He knows that you are a cousin and that you will inherit. Why should he know more?”
“I can think of several reasons. I want a husband who truly knows me, not one who is after your purse.”
“Well, if you don’t like him I am sure that we can find you someone else, some merchant or tradesman. I know you’re all too used to lords, but us workingmen have much to commend us. I saw a man today I think would suit you rather well. I may have to find a way to keep him in London.”
A thousand curses came to her mind. Her grandfather was simply not listening to her. How had she not foreseen this? Was her grandfather really looking at strangers and plotting her wedding?
“And what if my ‘husband’ learns the truth? At some point he may want to know our family history.”
“I do not see why he should. There is no reason he should ever know the shame of your…birth. Everything can be forgotten.”
Had her grandfather meant to say something else? For a moment at his pause she’d thought he would reveal all, that he would say he knew about Madame Rouge. She had done much to mask her identity these past years, but there was no surer way to make it come out than to tell such an outright lie. The truth had a way of sneaking forward the moment you worked hard to hide it. “I cannot lie about such a thing.”
“I think you are foolish, but I am sure we can find a man who will understand. A true man knows the world is a complicated place.”
“I do not believe such a man exists. I refuse to waste time looking for him.” What man would truly want her as she was?
Her grandfather narrowed his eyes, his look both cold and yet considering. “Then you will never marry.”
“Exactly.”
“Then you can no longer be my granddaughter. I will give you a few weeks to think it over, to come to your senses, but if you will not become a proper woman, a good wife, then I will tell my wife that you are no longer welcome.”
Chapter 8
Was he coming? And did she care? No, those were not the right questions. The question was should she care? Clearly she did care or she would not be thinking about it, about him. Ruby paced the parlor, more agitated than she’d been in weeks, months, perhaps even years.
Oh, she knew she could not blame her fragile emotions on Derek. She knew just where to lay the blame for them. Her grandfather was unbelievable, simply unbelievable.
Her feet beat a rapid tattoo as she continued to stride back and forth across the small room. It would not be long before a steady flow of patrons began to arrive. Stopping to take a sip of still-warm tea, she glared at the settee placed against the far wall. It was her practice to recline elegantly and greet her guests, but today the normally comfortable seat looked like it was upholstered with nails. The very thought of sitting still, of not moving, seemed painful and impossible.
If only she knew if Derek was coming. A good bout of intense sex would help clear her mind, clear this endless agitation.
She could just give in to feeling and emotion, and not think—at least, not until tomorrow.
&
nbsp; Her feet began to move again of their own accord.
She would not marry.
She could not marry.
What was her grandfather thinking? He was thinking that he wanted a sweet and innocent grandbaby to make up for all of her and her mother’s mistakes. He was looking for one more chance.
But Ruby didn’t believe in extra chances.
She’d used up all her chances when she was seventeen, and there was no going back. If she’d ever had a chance to lead a proper life, she’d ruined it with Lord Percy. And her grandfather knew it—or at least she sometimes thought he did. It was so hard to know what he knew or suspected and what was truly secret. Lord Percy did fall into that long category of things that were never talked about, never discussed.
Where was Derek? He had to be coming. Her mind might splinter if she were forced to sit and smile all evening long. Perhaps she could go up to her room and read a book. If she told Simms and Tilly that she was not feeling well they would manage without her, as they had for the latter part of last night. It was what she planned on doing if Derek did return. Why not do it anyway? She could have Cook send a tray to her room and she could lie in bed and read something truly indulgent, maybe even add a glass of wine. Only her mind would not stay fixed, she already knew that. The thought of focusing on a page was impossible.
And what if Derek did come? She could hardly leave a note asking to have him sent up to her chamber.
No, she would have to stay. It was probably just as well. Tilly had been shaken ever since some man had tried to force her into an alley when she’d been walking a few weeks ago. The girl still saw her regular customers, but had been odd about taking on anyone new. Although perhaps it would be good to encourage the girl to get over her fears, if only by greeting the patrons. A working girl who was afraid of men did not last long—and while Madame Rouge might cater to many desires, true fear was not one of them. Ruby would need to keep herself available, but it might be best to let Tilly handle the parlor by herself.
Was he coming?
Stop thinking about him. She had everything arranged if he did come. He might not be a man for games, but she needed one tonight, one that would truly take her out of her own life and put her in somebody else’s.
A quiet tap at the door.
“Yes, Simms,” she called.
The door opened and her porter stuck his head in. “Lord Thorton has requested to see you. I know it is early, but…”
“You know I am always available to my patrons.” She glanced at the settee but could not bring herself to sit. Walking to the window, she stared out at the still-light streets. Someday she would do something where she got outside more, where she got to see the sun and worry about freckles.
Someday.
There was no such thing as someday. Only the present existed.
“Madame Rouge.” Lord Thorton entered the room behind her.
She turned her head, hoping that she looked elegant silhouetted against the bright window. “How may I help you, Lord Thorton?”
“I was hoping we could speak.”
“Of course.” Turning fully, she walked toward him, trying to hide her distraction. “Should I send for refreshment?”
“No, I have just come from an early dinner.” He strode forward.
“Some port, then? I’ve just received a fine shipment.”
“No.”
She stood for a moment, awkwardly. Thorton shifted to stand near the mantel.
Suppressing a sigh, she moved to the settee and sat, arranging herself as always. His manners were too good to sit without her and she could not abide his hovering. “Do you have a problem? I do hope not. I work so hard to make you happy.” She let her eyes run along his slight body, trying to pretend some interest.
“Yes.” The flirtatious tone she had hoped for did not enter his voice.
“Oh. Please do tell me about it.” She lowered her chin and gazed at him from under her lashes, trying not to wish he were someone else.
“It has come to my attention that many of your house’s rules are not being followed.”
What was he talking about? She tried to focus on his words. “I am not aware of any such thing.”
“That I do not believe.”
Do not argue. Do not argue. “I am sorry about that. Do tell me what is wrong.” Blast. The last thing she needed at the moment was more problems.
“I first became aware of the severity of the difficulty several months ago. You allowed a girl, Tilly, to visit someone outside of the house. You make it very clear to patrons that all business is to be conducted within these walls. If your policy has changed you should post it.”
Post it? Did he think she had a written set of rules somewhere? Well, she did, but only as something to show the new girls, not that many of them could read. She certainly, however, did not have written rules for her patrons. “I am sorry.”
He leaned forward. “So have your rules changed? Can I now request that a girl meet me somewhere else?”
“No, I am sorry, but that is not possible.” She tried to lighten her voice. It was unlike Thorton to be contentious. “I am sure that I can arrange for anything you like right here.”
“And Tilly?”
Now, that was a complicated situation. Tilly had tried to meet a customer onboard ship, but Ruby had put a stop to that—at least she thought she had. Tilly might have met up with Derek’s first mate later, after they had finally met in the house, but not as a paying customer. “That was a special circumstance and I took care of it.”
“And yet the girl still works here.”
“Are you questioning how I run my girls?” This time she did not bother to soften her tone. At least Lord Thorton was providing a distraction from all the other issues.
“Yes, I am. This is not the only transgression I know of. There was that whole affair with the countess, a most distasteful situation.”
“Who I have banned for life.” Ruby had no defense about what that woman had tried, but neither had she had any power to stop her. The countess had acted on her own and against everything Ruby had said—and her worst deeds had not taken place at the house.
“You should have been stricter with her from the start. Were you soft because she was a woman?”
There might be some truth to that. Ruby probably had put more faith in the countess’s promises than she would have those of a man. It had been hard for her, even with all she knew, to believe that another woman could be so callous and uncaring. “Perhaps. But I did take immediate action once she acted beyond the pale—and I did help arrange for her husband to come take her in hand.”
Lord Thorton stood and then sat back down. “I will grant you that. But what about Lord Dober?”
Lord Dober? What had happened with Lord Dober? “I am not sure to what you are referring.”
“I have it on quite good authority that he has been using two, sometimes three girls at a time.”
“That is not against my policies.” She might not understand such a need, but she certainly had nothing against it.
“It is not natural.”
“But it is not against the rules.”
“He doesn’t always pay full price.”
Now, that was against her policies. “I can assure you that all my patrons pay for what they receive, no more, no less. I run an honest establishment.”
“I had always thought so, but now I begin to doubt. What of that gentleman last night?”
Was that what this was really about? Was Thorton upset that she had turned down his advances and then accepted Derek’s? That was something she could understand—and would have to find a way to deal with. “To what gentleman do you refer?”
“The American. I can assure you that the noises leaving this chamber were quite unmistakable. Has that policy changed? Do you now have a price?”
How to answer that? “I still am not for sale. That has not changed.”
“Not even for a good friend?”
Did the man
actually think that she considered him a friend? “I am afraid there are no exceptions.”
“And the American?”
“That is a private matter.”
“I didn’t think sluts had private lives.” Abruptly, he rose to his feet.
Ruby held her face still. Where had that extreme a response come from? Lord Thorton never forgot his manners. “I am sorry that you think so. I have always kept my personal affairs my own.”
“Then you shouldn’t scream so loudly.” He turned and headed to the door.
There must be some way she could calm him. “We have a new girl, she is…”
He turned and stared at her. “I must be clear. I will not be returning or using your services again. And I will do all that I can to be sure that proper judgment is leveled. There have been too many instances of disobedience for me to think it a coincidence.”
And then he was gone.
Now, that had certainly been bizarre. Ruby didn’t know quite what to think. Lord Thorton had always been so levelheaded. Yes, he liked rules and games involving rules, but he’d never reacted in such a manner. She could only hope his threats were just that, threats. While she doubted any of her other patrons would care what the man said, as long as they continued to get what they paid for, she was well aware of how quickly an establishment could lose favor. This was not the first time she had faced such a situation. In the past, several of her influential patrons had helped her, but even then it had been a struggle.
Now she could only wonder if closing would be such a bad thing. She had more than enough put aside to live to a ripe old age if she was careful—and she was growing tired. When she’d taken over from Madame Noir it had all seemed an adventure. Now it was work, work that brought so many more headaches than rewards.
She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the back of the settee. Her temples were beginning to pound and she longed for escape. Perhaps she would head upstairs to that book. Lifting the heavy wig from her head would bring endless relief.
