Ravishing Ruby

by Lavinia Kent

  Derek had no idea whether Scanton spoke the truth or only spoke boldly trying to frighten his opponent. He stared back, saying nothing. He had fought too hard to earn his father’s admiration and now he might lose it over a woman.

  Scanton met his eye and continued. “I see you start to understand. While I am far from a truly powerful man, within my own small world I can sway my own peculiar army. You would do far better to align with me than to anger me.” The man’s gaze swept past Derek to settle on Ruby. “Yes, an alliance would be a fine thing.”

  Ruby’s head came up, her eyes glowed and Derek could feel the uncomfortable heat she directed toward her grandfather.

  An alliance. The word settled about him. He was not wrong. It had all been a plot and he was the lamb being led to slaughter. He looked over at Ruby, her delicate features and lush curves. It might be a quite enjoyable slaughter, but he was no lamb. If he had not still been so angry from last night, he might have seen it differently, but…“So that is the plot. I can only say that if that is what you are selling, I have no interest in the merchandise.”

  He turned and strode from the office, stomping down the narrow stairs.

  —

  “Well, that did not go quite as I hoped,” her grandfather said.

  “No, I imagine it did not,” Ruby replied even as she felt her world tumble around her. It was all she could do not to run down the stairs after Derek, begging him to listen—although she knew not what she would say. She still was not quite sure what had just happened, other than that she had been refused. There had been no mistaking that final look from Derek. He had taken in her value and found it wanting.

  He did not want her—at least not for a wife.

  It should not have hurt so badly. She did not need a man. Her life had been designed to leave her independent. She needed no one. No one.

  Turning, she walked to the cloudy window that let one look down over the main floor of the warehouse.

  Derek was gone. There was not even the sight of him disappearing into the distance.

  No one.

  Even if she lost her grandparents, she would survive. It would not be easy. There would be pain, but she would survive. Strength lived deep in her core and she would draw upon it, she would force it to the surface and she would go on.

  A bitter laugh rose within her and she let it bubble out. She could do what her grandfather wished and marry a man she did not care for, give up being Ruby, become Emma. A good and dutiful wife, a woman who cared not for business, who cared only for husband and family. Or she could continue as Madame Rouge, give up the love of her grandparents, and be more alone than she had ever been. It was a daunting choice. Perhaps she would move to Cornwall and surround herself with kittens. Maybe she’d keep so many that she could name all the Knights of the Round Table.

  “What do you find funny?” Her grandfather sounded quite confused.

  “Only everything. I have fought so hard for so long and now it lies in ruins all about me—and as far as I can see I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Her grandfather’s face grew cloudy at that. It was clear he thought that she had done much wrong even if he could never voice the thought. “We should have insisted that your mother hand you over to us when you were born. That house was no place to raise a child.”

  “It was a wonderful place to grow up.” She fought back for the first time in her life. “My mother—and my father—loved me. I was treasured.”

  “Treasured until you did not suit their needs.” He spoke coldly.

  “And are you so different?” She knew the words were unwise, but could not hold them back. “You cut off my mother the moment she displeased you and now you threaten the same with me. How is that different than my father? I do not understand this idea that love is something you can simply choose to end.”

  “We were patient with your mother until she pushed too far. How could we ever admit to having a daughter who lived unmarried in a man’s house? A man who was married to another woman. Who bore his child.”

  “That child being me, who now so conveniently becomes a distant cousin instead of a beloved granddaughter.”

  “You are beloved.”

  “And yet you will cast me away if I do not do as you wish.”

  “We want only the best for you. Can you not understand that? I think we have been very patient with you and the life you lead. Instead of forcing you home when your mother died we let you stay at your—your place of employment.”

  God, she wanted to make him say it. He so clearly knew what she did for a living. Hell, he’d even sent Derek to her. Why did it have to remain forever in the shadows? Why could she not force honesty for just this one moment? And yet she could not. She knew the price of that moment in the light and it was not a price she was willing to pay. “It was too late by the time my mother died. Perhaps if you had come to me when my father first said he no longer wished me in his life things could have been different—but then again, perhaps not. I did not wish to allow anyone to control me at that point.”

  “Which is why you did not come to us. You say that we did not come to you at that moment, but how could we have? We knew nothing until the situation had been settled in your mind. You made your decisions without consulting us. Do not blame us for that now.”

  This she could answer. “Perhaps because I had seen how you treated my mother, I did not need to consult you. I knew what choices you would offer me and I wanted them no more then than I do now.”

  “And yet they are the choices that are yours now. Some things cannot be avoided.”

  She hated that his words were true. Some things could not be avoided. “And what of Captain Price? Why did you not tell me that you knew him yesterday? Why not give me a chance to prepare myself, a chance to see if there were any way around this mess?”

  “I did what I thought right. I did not think it would work out like that.”

  “Really?” What exactly had her grandfather thought would happen? Did he think that Derek would be pleased to be told he should marry a whore? Although wasn’t that what she had thought? Hadn’t she thought that he would be pleased to see that marriage between them was possible, that she could do as much for his family as Anne?

  “Yes, really. I made the referral with only the best of intentions. I did not expect it to come back to haunt me in this manner. It was an impulse at first. I really did not think much beyond that I thought he was a man who would interest you, perhaps make you see things differently.”

  Was her grandfather actually admitting, if subtly, that he knew she and Madame Rouge were the same? “And what did you want?”

  “Only to be helpful.” Her grandfather met her glance as he said the words. “I only wanted the best for everybody. I knew things needed to change and thought maybe you would see your own way to changing them.”

  And she just might have if given more time. “And what is the best? Why do you think you always know better?”

  “Because I do. And you would be happier with a husband and family than you are now. I truly have no doubt of that. I only do what I can to help make that happen. And I really did not think it would come to anything. I just knew Captain Price had been at sea for years, had traveled the world, and seemed more open-minded than any other man I’d met. I am not sure why I thought it would work, but…”

  It had been a preposterous idea and yet in some ways it had come close to working. She bowed her head, feeling the weight of these last few hours.

  Her grandfather reached out and placed a hand upon her arm. “I recognized that he was a good man—and a man who saw the world beyond the lines drawn by society. I thought he might be able to accept and forgive things that a more conventional man might not. I hoped he would see the advantages without seeing all the reasons that things could not be. He seemed the answer to a prayer I did not know I had. I will confess I had not planned it much beyond that. I had almost forgotten about him before he returned to London.”

  “And his dela
yed cargo?”

  Her grandfather’s gaze dropped. “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you had even met. I didn’t know if he’d taken my recommendation. I think I hoped to introduce him to you, to Emma—and—I just don’t know. I was acting on instinct. I simply thought he would suit you, that he was a man who might make you happy, who might see all the good in you that I see.”

  Now that she could understand—and he was not wrong, they had suited. “You are most poetical.”

  Her grandfather snorted. “I truly meant no harm.”

  “And yet you still do not offer to release me from your conditions.”

  He stepped back. “I cannot. Your life cannot go on as it is. I think you know that as well as I.”

  “Then I suppose I will see you Sunday for dinner as usual.”

  “I will be sure that your grandmother invites a few gentlemen. I am sure there is someone we can both find agreeable.”

  Ruby was not so sure. Their one chance for compromise had just stormed away and she rather doubted she would ever see him again.

  She batted her lashes quickly as she felt tears rise. It hurt when dreams died, even those that had been recently born.

  And yet somehow she would go on. It is what she always did.

  But, oh, how it hurt, how it stung. If only she could go curl in her bed and hide from the world for at least an hour, a day, a week.

  Chapter 23

  Wig on. Cosmetics on. Tight blue velvet dress on. Smile on. Ear bobs on. She was ready. Inside she might feel held together by twine, but no one looking at her would know that. The mirror reflected Madame Rouge back at her. She looked the same as every other night. The dress might change. The wig could be different. But, she was always the same—only tonight she wasn’t.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what was different, but something was, something she couldn’t define.

  It wasn’t the first night she’d wished she didn’t have to work, the first night she wished she could stay curled up in her bed and ignore the noise coming from the rest of the house. Nobody liked their profession all the time. She’d always settled for liking it most of the time.

  Only now it felt like she might never enjoy it again.

  A dozen curses filtered through her brain.

  Anger was good. A woman could get things done when she was angry.

  Anger had led to the creation of Madame Rouge.

  Anger had made her strong.

  A woman who felt sorry for herself, who felt deprived of choice, might mope. A woman filled with anger got out of bed and got things done, found ways to fight, ways to change things.

  She blew out a long sigh. But anger took effort and she was feeling so tired. Why fight when there was no good outcome?

  But that was accepting defeat before she’d even begun to fight, and that was something she refused to do.

  Still staring into the mirror, she forced her smile higher, pinched her cheeks to rosiness.

  She might not know what to do, but she did know what she mustn’t do. She must not give up, must never give up.

  Her only task for tonight was to get through the night, to smile, and simper, and flatter.

  And Madame Rouge could do all of those things better than anyone else. Madame Rouge could walk down the stairs and shine and glow.

  It didn’t matter what was happening on the interior. All that mattered was what the world saw and she would give them a show.

  Spinning on her heels, she turned and left the room, stopping to check on each of her girls. She smiled with some sincerity as she listened to concerns and heard funny anecdotes from the nights she had missed. She helped with cosmetics and brushed hair, chatting as she did so, trying to find the heart and soul that had made this place so magical for her.

  Madame Rouge’s was her home. She must remember that.

  “The red or the green?” Marie, one of her newer girls, asked.

  Ruby eyed the two dresses. “The green will bring out your eyes. But pull the bodice up a bit. Men will want to see more, and men who want more are willing to pay more.”

  “Are you sure?” Marie answered. “I’ve always thought that they like to know what they’re buying.”

  Ruby laughed. “If they actually wanted to know what they were buying they’d be happy with the women walking the streets, their wares out for all to see. No, the men who come here want to think they are getting more than they can see, and the easiest way to let them think that is not to let them see everything. Men always want what they can’t have. The longer you can keep secrets from them the more they want you.”

  That thought hit far too close to home. Was that what had happened with Derek? Had she lost all her mystery when he saw her as plain Emma Scanton? No, that was far too simple and she knew it. He’d felt trapped, felt there was some deep plot to force him to—to—she didn’t know quite what he felt forced to. A business arrangement? Marriage? Or was he simply upset that her own grandfather had sent him to her house? And wasn’t that a confusing thought.

  Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. Think about being Madame Rouge. Think about what must be done tonight. Don’t think about tomorrow. Just get through tonight.

  “Is that why you don’t let us wear only undergarments in the parlor?” Marie’s question startled her.

  “In part. I also just don’t believe undergarments belong out of the bedchamber. It must be something about my upbringing.”

  “It’s so much more expensive to have to buy evening gowns. The last house I was in I could wear my chemise day and night. And it was so much simpler and faster.”

  “And why aren’t you working there anymore? I never force a girl to stay. If you don’t like my rules you are welcome to leave.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to leave. I just like to understand. I don’t like doing things simply because somebody says that’s the way to do it.”

  Ruby did understand that. Wasn’t that the root of her current problems? She didn’t like to be forced to do anything. She didn’t mind following rules, but she liked to understand why she was following them.

  Stop it. Stop it. She wasn’t going to think about this.

  She patted Marie on the cheek and made her way out of the room, winding her way down the stairs to the parlor.

  She loved the room, the subtle greens and hints of blue. The furniture as fine as any lady’s parlor.

  Normally she felt a deep sense of contentment here, whether during the day when it could be her own private sanctuary or at night when it was filled with the lively bustle of happy people—or at least people fighting to be happy.

  She shook her head hard. Why was she so maudlin? This is where she wanted to be, where she had fought so hard to be. A few months ago she had wanted nothing more. What had changed?

  The problem was she knew the answer.

  She had changed.

  She hadn’t wanted to, but she had.

  She wanted more, wanted things she could not have.

  —

  Derek tossed another gulp of whiskey down his throat, feeling the burn. A gentleman got toasted on brandy. A sailor got sotted on rum. The poor wasted their lives with gin. He didn’t feel like any of those. He was simply a man who didn’t wish to think, who wished to banish all thought from his mind, and that required whiskey.

  He took another swallow.

  It didn’t seem to be helping.

  The more he drank, the more he saw her, saw Ruby, Emma, Afya, Rebecca, and whoever she might be at the moment. He saw those deep blue eyes staring at him, full of pain and regret. He saw the pale face grow paler, saw her hands tremble.

  And he saw her determination. She had been beaten when he had left her grandfather’s establishment, but she had refused to go down.

  Another swig.

  He had handled it badly. He could not deny it. If he had not been so angry with Anne and her family, he would have been more reasonable with Ruby.

  He would have taken the time to listen, to ask question
s.

  Had she known what her grandfather planned? Had it been some sort of entrapment? She’d told him she never slept with patrons and then…And then she’d come to him. Had it all been a trap?

  The thought ate at his guts. Had none of it been real? Was that possible?

  He knew women sometimes faked their pleasure, but was it possible to fake everything that had happened between them?

  He didn’t think so.

  He didn’t want to think so.

  And that was his problem. He didn’t want to believe. It made him doubt all his instincts. His instincts told him that Ruby had known nothing. That she had been even more surprised than he when the connections were made.

  But was that possible? Or was he simply desperate to believe?

  She’d claimed her grandfather had no knowledge of Madame Rouge. If that were true, how had he known to send Derek there? And what had he wanted?

  That was the question that circled again and again through his brain. What did Mr. Scanton want?

  If it was only a business connection, then surely it was easier to directly approach him than to…He didn’t even know exactly what had been done.

  And what of marriage? It was the obvious way to form an alliance, but would it not have been easier to simply introduce him to Emma? What man wanted to marry a madam?

  Marriage. Was that what they wanted? What Ruby wanted? Why had she sent him to her grandfather’s?

  Questions and more questions—and no answers.

  If only he had stayed calm and waited for answers.

  He hated this game. He didn’t want to play anymore.

  Only, perhaps, he did. He never had been able to resist Ruby and her games.

  A month ago he would have sworn he was a man of the simplest tastes. Now he was not so sure.