by Lavinia Kent
She worked hard to present a face of calm. “If he does not arrive, I will deal with that when it happens.”
“So you don’t know?”
Her grandfather knew her too well. “No, I do not know.”
“Then you will come to your grandmother’s dinner and meet the young men that she has invited, and you will smile and be modest and accepting.”
Spin. Spin. Spin. “And will they be young men? I would hardly call Mr. Wyeth young.”
“Do not be clever with me, girl,” her grandfather answered, but his tone was not sharp. “You will be agreeable, whatever the case.”
“I can promise to be polite. I do not know about agreeable.”
“I think you can manage agreeable. I know how much you love your grandmother.” His eyes narrowed at the end.
Was there a threat in his words? It was always so hard to tell. He’d backed off so much since their compromise and had seemed quite interested when she’d talked of Derek yesterday. She knew, however, that the main issue still stood. She either became Emma full time or she gave up her family.
She swallowed hard. “I can try.” And then she raised her chin. “I cannot, however, promise.”
He nodded sharply and lowered his head to his books. “Tell me, do you think we should stock cheaper brass buttons? I’ve a new supplier who will sell us buttons at twenty percent less, but I am unsure.”
She gratefully took the change of subject, happy to think of anything except whether or not Derek would come. “Do you have a sample I can see?” she asked.
“Of course.” Rising from his desk, her grandfather pulled a box from a shelf.
—
He was late. Derek looked up at the sign above the warehouse, Scanton Mercantile. He’d been here before, the last time barely more than a week past. That was why the direction had seemed so familiar. He’d come to argue about that blasted delayed cargo and to bargain future business for his family.
Why would Ruby have directed him here? It made no sense.
And then the obvious struck him. Emma Scanton. He was sure she’d once mentioned her surname was Scanton. Scanton Mercantile. Could there be a connection? There must be a connection. He tried to remember what she’d told him of her past. He remembered her father, the duke, but what had she said of her mother? He knew she’d been of respectable birth, but what beyond that?
A grandfather who had disowned her mother. Had Ruby ever mentioned the man’s name? He didn’t think so, although it would not be a far stretch to imagine that his name had been Scanton. It seemed impossible to consider that Emma could possibly be…And yet…
His mind hesitated to think what this could mean for him, for them. Only there was no them. But perhaps there could be. Last night could certainly have changed things.
Would he end up thanking Anne for the game she had played?
Still trying to understand, to put it all together in his mind, he pushed the door open and entered, letting the familiar scent of pine boxes and cotton and cargo still scented by sea winds surround him.
He heard the creak of a door from above and turned, his eyes focusing at the top of the narrow wooden stair.
Emma stood there, but Emma as he had never seen her. He thought he’d gotten to know Ruby and all her sides, but this was someone new.
She stood there in a fitted day dress, high at the neck and loose over her breasts. The sober color would not easily show dust or wear. Her light blond hair was pulled loosely back and then braided in a knot. No softly curling strands would be escaping to draw his attention—and his fingers.
His Ruby all prim and proper.
He would not have imagined such a thing. It would have seemed an impossibility if he were not looking at her himself.
This was definitely Emma, but even for Emma this seemed farfetched. His Emma was sweet and innocent, large sapphire eyes and sensuous hair curling all about.
He wished he could see her eyes, see the fire and life that always burned within them, but sadly the dim light of the warehouse prevented him from seeing so far.
His step picked up as he hurried across the floor—even as his mind made another connection, one he wished it had not, one he could only hope was not true.
—
He was here. Even without hearing his name, Ruby had known what the commotion below marked and had opened the door to the floor below, eager to see him.
Derek was here. Derek had come.
But even as her eyes devoured him as he strode toward her, she found her guts churning, terrified of what was to come.
If he had not come, things would still have remained in flux. She would have had another chance to determine his feelings, to push for more.
But now, now this was it. He would either do as she wished or not.
Within a few hours’ time, perhaps less, she would know what her life would hold.
She swallowed, fighting back the bile.
This was Derek. There was no reason for her to be scared. She had invited him here for a reason.
“He is here, then. Good.” Her grandfather spoke from behind, a slight hesitation in his voice.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded far smaller and more timid than she was used to.
“Is he coming up?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
She took a step back into the office, still holding the door open, and turned to her grandfather. “What do you mean?”
“Is he your final choice? Your grandmother does have several other men for you to consider. I would not want to feel that I have pushed you toward him,” he replied.
Now, that was an odd comment, and was he suddenly nervous? Something was not right. Her grandfather might have pushed her toward marriage, but certainly not toward Derek. Not that the word marriage had ever been used explicitly in regard to Derek. It would be unseemly to plan on marriage before even discussing it with the gentleman in question. “Of all the options open to me he seems the best.”
Her grandfather’s face grew still. “And is the best enough?”
“You ask that now?” She sent him a curious look. Why was he suddenly so concerned about her happiness? “You were ready to marry me off to Mr. Wyeth.”
Before her grandfather could answer, there was the clatter of boots upon the wood stairs and then Derek pushed through the door, pulling it from her hand.
He nodded to her grandfather. “Mr. Scanton.” And then he turned to her, his gaze holding hers even as his eyes quickly roamed over her, taking in every aspect of her appearance. Another nod. “Miss Scanton.”
Only as he spoke her name did she realize her relief. He could have called her Ruby—or even worse, Madame Rouge. She had given him no instruction, no explanation. How had he…? No, that was a silly question. He was not a dull man and the name of the business would have told him everything—or at least almost so.
“Captain Price, it is good to see you again,” her grandfather spoke from behind her.
Her head whipped about. Again? When had they met before? Why had her grandfather not said anything? He had mentioned knowing the family, but not having met Derek. Again she thought that something was not right.
Derek did not answer for a moment, his gaze still locked on her. His eyes asked her something, but she was unsure what.
Finally he turned to her grandfather. “Why am I here? Was this your plan all along?”
Her grandfather straightened. “You are here, I believe, because my granddaughter asked you. Why ask me?”
Derek took a step forward. “Are you trying to tell me this was not a plan? That my cargo has not been delayed for weeks for precisely this reason?”
What? Ruby looked back and forth from one to the other. What were they talking about?
“Miss Scanton asked you to come here. I did not know until after the invite had been issued.”
“So it is all coincidence? Why do I find that hard to believe?”
A deep red began to mar
k her grandfather’s cheeks. “Sometimes things really do happen by chance.”
“What are the two of you trying to say?” She turned to Derek. “And why would you think my grandfather had anything to do with your being here? I wanted to talk to you, to let you see a bit more of the life I lead. And I know nothing of this cargo, although I do remember you mentioning it.”
Instead of answering, Derek turned back to her grandfather. “And I can assure you that I have seen quite a bit of the life she leads.”
What was he trying to do? She’d explained that her grandfather chose to know nothing about Madame Rouge, that they carefully lived with the lie that she spent her days a companion to an elderly lady.
Her grandfather was so deep a red now as to be almost purple. “We do not need to talk of that, let us just focus on why my dear Emma wished you to come.”
“Yes,” she said. “Why don’t we all sit and then I can…”
“Oh, I’ve quite the idea of why I am here. It took me a few minutes to put it all together, but I think I begin to understand. It’s all business, isn’t it, one type of transaction or another?” Derek’s voice was still calm, but his eyes had grown cold. “I am very tired of having my life be manipulated because of my family’s business.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said, trying desperately to understand what was happening. She felt like she’d read the first three pages of a book and then found herself halfway through with no knowledge of what had happened.
Derek looked at her, his eyes sweeping up her body before again settling on her face. She could see the consideration in his gaze. “Perhaps you don’t—or perhaps you are a better actress than I imagined.”
“What…?”
Before she could finish the sentence, he turned from her and focused on her grandfather. “What I am sure of is that he knows exactly what I am talking about. He, after all, is the one who sent me to you in the beginning. Am I supposed to believe that was just chance?”
She shook her head, trying to make sense of the conversation.
“I don’t know to what you refer, Captain Price. I certainly never sent you to meet my granddaughter or her employer, Mrs. Grant. I believe you must be suffering from some misapprehension. It was Emma who invited you here. I have nothing to do with it.”
“And I am supposed to believe that?”
“Why, yes. I still don’t understand the problem,” her grandfather replied, and even Ruby could hear the quaver in his voice and the look of entreaty that he sent Derek.
Derek stepped back, his shoulders straight. “Why can you not simply be honest?”
“What is going on here?” Ruby had had enough. “What is it you are not saying? I hear an accusation I do not quite understand, but there is more to it. Why do you think my grandfather was involved in my invitation to you, and why do you think that he has something to do with our meeting?”
Her grandfather swallowed—loudly.
For a moment nobody spoke and then Derek turned to her. “I do not think it.” His features clearly showed that he had reached some important decision. “I know it. He was responsible for our first meeting and I cannot believe that this has all been chance ever since. I thought it was strange when he sent me to you at the start, it seemed out of character, and now I can only think it has been a plan all along. I am not quite sure what his endgame was, but I am sure this is not all serendipity.”
“I still don’t…” She tried to continue.
Derek ignored her. He turned back to her grandfather. “Do you want to tell her or should I?”
Ruby glanced over at her grandfather. He compressed his lips and said nothing.
“He is the one who first sent me to Madame Rouge’s,” he said harshly.
Chapter 22
What? Derek to Madame Rouge’s. Her mind could not quite put the thought together. Grandfather didn’t know about Madame Rouge’s—or at least he always pretended he didn’t. How could he have sent Derek there? And why would he have? It was impossible to even imagine her grandfather directing a man to a whorehouse.
She looked over at her grandfather again. He dropped his eyes and still said nothing.
“I don’t believe…” She started to say, but let her voice trail off. It might not make sense, but Derek had no reason to lie about such a thing—and her grandfather was not denying it.
“He heard me talking to one of the men and volunteered the information. I would never have found it on my own. I’d have ended up someplace much nearer to the docks.”
That was probably true. Her clientele ran more to gentlemen than seamen. But something about Derek himself had made him not seem out of place. If she’d thought about it at all, she’d imagined his highbrow cousin had sent him to her. She’d never imagined her grandfather…
“I’d heard it was the best place in town, not at all of the common sort,” her grandfather mumbled at last.
“So it was complete chance that had you recommending the place to me?” Derek asked, the disbelief in his tone clear.
“It’s the only such place I’d heard of specifically,” answered her grandfather.
“I find that hard to believe.”
Now her grandfather did look up. “I can assure you that I am not in the practice of visiting ladies of the night.”
If only she could just sink through the floor. Why was Derek doing this? She’d told him that Madame Rouge’s was an untalked-about secret with her grandparents. Why was he trying to force it into the open?
Derek would not back down. “And it just happens that the only one you know of is Madame Rouge’s?”
“Yes, as it happens, it is. And I find this a most inappropriate conversation to be having in front of my granddaughter. I do not know how you do things at home, Captain, but I can assure you that such conversation is not for a lady’s ears on this side of the Atlantic.” Her grandfather’s voice grew louder as he decided what tack to take. If only it did not sound so much like he was forcing the words out—and they were not the full truth.
Derek glanced between her and her grandfather, clearly deciding if he should force the issue. “Are you sure you do not wish to be honest? I have always had a strong dislike of liars.”
Of all the ways she had imagined this going, she had never even considered this. If only it were possible to go back in time and do things differently. Although what she would do differently she could not say.
“I do not like being called a liar.” Her grandfather was turning red again. “I did you a favor and this is how you repay me?”
“Did you do me a favor or Madame Rouge? It would seem to me you are nothing but a procurer.” Derek almost spat the words.
I have never needed anyone to find me patrons. I could work only with my current clients and be set for life. And I certainly would never use my grandfather. The desire to speak the words, to yell the words, was strong. She wanted to yell, to fight, but even now, in the midst of this mess she understood the trap that lay all about her. Her grandfather had still not admitted to knowing that Emma and Madame Rouge were one and the same. If she forced the issue and then Derek left, as it seemed he must, then she would be left with nothing. The state of detente with her grandfather would be over. If he were forced to admit that she ran a brothel, then he would disown her as he had her mother. It would be useless to try and persuade him that there was a difference between being a whore and running a business. And she didn’t even know if she would bother. She had long defended her girls and their reasons for acting as they did and to now act like she was better than them would seem a betrayal. She said nothing. She bowed her head and fisted her palms, waiting for this to be over. There would be time enough to pick up the pieces when Derek left. She could only hope there were enough pieces remaining to put back together.
—
Derek stood still, waiting for a reply. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear. He wasn’t sure that there were any words that could fix that which had broken within him w
hen he realized he had been set up—again. He wasn’t sure by whom, whether it had just been old Scanton or whether Ruby had played a part. And did it matter? He’d clung to her innocence at first, convinced she would say something that would make it all make sense, that would dull the pain that grew within him. Just this morning he’d been so confident that she would never play him, but gradually, as her silence had held, as he’d realized she wasn’t going to say anything, he’d felt his earlier anger return. His feelings about Anne’s actions combining with this new situation.
He had believed it of Anne, believed that she would see him as no more than a pawn to be moved at her pleasure, but Ruby?
He didn’t know what the Scantons’ purpose was, but clearly there was one.
Scanton spoke up. “I don’t understand your anger. I merely gave you a referral. I did not demand that you go there. Indeed, it was not I looking to mingle with whores.”
Did Ruby pale as he spoke? Did she feel the bitterness in that last word? It didn’t matter. “I was looking for help for one of my men. I am sure you remember that.”
“And of course you did not indulge yourself.” It was impossible to miss the edge of sarcasm in Scanton’s voice.
Derek turned back to stare fully at Ruby. Her eyes lifted and he could see her memories of that first night he had come to Madame Rouge’s, the night she had watched him through the peephole as he fucked one of her girls. “I had been at sea for months. I need no excuse for my behavior. I have no wife I have sworn to be faithful to—at least not yet.”
And there was no mistaking that Ruby lost any remaining color with those words. Only her lips retained any trace of pink. He didn’t understand how it could feel so good and hurt so much to see her response to his cruel words.
He turned back to Scanton, pushing her from his mind. “I will never do business with you again and I will see that my family does not either.” The irony of his repeating Mr. Williams’s threat was not lost upon him.
Scanton’s head rose at that and Derek could almost feel him stepping back onto familiar ground. “Go ahead and give that a try. You and your family will find it hard to do business if I look upon you with disfavor. I control half the cloth that comes in through this port, and what I do not control I have influence over. A few bad words from me and you will find all of England closed to your merchandise. A few more words and most of Europe will join me. Do you think that, even with these new machines you mentioned, what you produce will be so special that a replacement cannot be found elsewhere?”
