The Vaudeville Star

by Nicola Italia

  When she entered his suite, she saw happily that they were not alone. A waiter was pouring champagne into two glasses, and King handed her one.

  “That dress, my dear, most charming,” King said as he sipped the liquid.

  “I don’t have that many gowns. I know it’s more suited to afternoon tea—”

  “Not at all, Ruby. You do it justice. Any gown you wear, you only serve to enhance its beauty. Not the other way around. Some women need flashy gowns and jewels. You do not.”

  Ruby smiled at the compliment.

  “However, that being said, I know a seamstress in England. She is French by birth but lives in London. Her gowns are exquisite!”

  “I’m sure I could not afford her,” Ruby said as she took her seat opposite him. The waiter disappeared.

  “Perhaps you can’t afford her now. But once you achieve fame, fortune follows, does it not?” He winked at her.

  “I hope it does.” She smiled.

  “Perhaps you might allow me to introduce you to Madame Bineaux. You can see her work and meet her and then decide.”

  “Perhaps,” Ruby said as she toyed with the champagne glass.

  “Excellent. Then it is settled. You can order as many gowns as you like. When she sends you the bill, you send it to me. What could be easier?” King waved a hand at her.

  Ruby was growing annoyed. She didn’t want to be any more beholden to him than she already was. “King—” Just as she was about to tell him how she felt, the waiter returned carrying plates of food under silver domes.

  He uncovered the plates, and King smiled approvingly before the waiter disappeared again.

  “King, I can’t accept such an offer.”

  King took a mouthful of salmon. “You just did.”

  “Very well. But I will pay you back. I must insist.”

  “Insist?” King frowned and then smiled. “Of course. I understand. You want to be independent. Charming.” He nodded.

  Ruby tried to enjoy the meal, but she felt more and more that King was placing her in a position where she was at his mercy. She owed him so much already.

  They finished their meal with a walnut cream tart and coffee, and afterward he poured them both a brandy, and they sat on the sofa.

  “I received a telegram from my mother today. You met her,” he stated.

  “I did.”

  “She took care of the funeral arrangements for dear Caroline. She was devoted to her.”

  “Of course she would be.”

  “Caroline was such a sickly thing. I didn’t understand things like that then. When I married her. I thought breeding and money and, of course, beauty was all that was needed in a wife. It’s not.”

  Ruby looked down at her hands. “What is needed?”

  “Only one thing matters, Ruby. Sons. An heir. If a woman can’t be bred for sons, then she has little value.”

  Ruby realized that he had consumed several glasses of champagne and now a brandy. She had only sipped the one glass of champagne through dinner and had barely touched her brandy.

  “You make it sound a little like Thoroughbred horse breeding,” she said, smiling, though inside she was shocked at his attitude.

  Suddenly, King was smiling too. “That’s exactly what it is like, Ruby! My God, you’re an incredible woman!”

  “It is like horse breeding?” she said, grasping at his words, trying to get him to focus on the conversation and not her.

  “What? Well. Yes. You want a woman who can give you sons, but she must be healthy and strong to achieve it. And that is where breeding comes into play. Beauty is simply what I must have.”

  “Beauty is so important?”

  He set aside his glass and moved closer to her on the sofa. “A beautiful woman is an aphrodisiac in itself. To know that you can claim and love such beauty is a feeling of immense power. But then, you aren’t a man to understand such things.”

  “No,” Ruby breathed out. “I’m not.”

  “I will give you everything you want, Ruby. Jewels, gowns, furs. We will travel. And once you bear me a son—”

  “Please, King,” she said, feeling more uncomfortable with each passing second.

  “Of course. I spoke out of turn. I must wait.” He kissed the back of her hand. “And I will. For you are worth waiting for.”

  Ruby looked away from him. It seems they were both waiting. Ruby was waiting for this infatuation of his to pass. While King was merely waiting for his mourning period to be over before he pounced.

  The moment Ruby left King’s cabin, she gulped in huge mouthfuls of air. It was dark, and the night sky was a blanket of ink. There was no one about, and she guessed it must be after midnight.

  She moved along the deck and shivered. King’s words repeated in her ears, and for the first time she thought of disembarking in London and returning straight home. She could find another way. She could join another troupe. She could find her way alone without King. But no. That would never work. He would be angry. Even vindictive. He might even stop her career altogether.

  She walked along the entire deck of the ship until she came to the stern. She stood at the railing and looked out into the black water. She felt a deep sense of frustration. She didn’t want to be at King’s beck and call. She didn’t want to feel beholden to him for so much, and now it would even be for the clothes on her back. No, she told herself sternly. She would not visit the dressmaker he mentioned.

  She couldn’t go to Vernon or Bessie. Everyone wanted the tour to be a success, and her pleasing attitude to King depended on it. She couldn’t even go to Ford. With Zeta watching her every move, she had to keep her distance. She closed her eyes against the cool wind. She must be agreeable. She must wait. She must do as King wished—within reason.

  She felt so tired. She should be thrilled with the upcoming tour, but instead King’s dominating personality overshadowed everything. It was not as she wanted. Instead of focusing on their London and Paris tour, she was now trying to placate a powerful man who wanted her.

  “You’ll catch cold,” Ford said as he came to stand next to her at the railing.

  She wasn’t surprised to find him standing beside her. She knew he was keeping an eye on her. She breathed out, and her breath came out in a cold fog. “I’m going in soon.”

  “How was dinner?” he asked, though it came across more as an accusation.

  “Fine. A pity you didn’t see fit to interrupt us this time.”

  “Was there something to interrupt?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Don’t deny it quite so much. I might believe you.”

  “You believe what you will. Meanwhile, I must act as his hostess when we arrive in London.”

  “Yes. He mentioned it to me. Hostess. That’s quite cozy. And when do you become his mistress?”

  “When should I?” She lifted her chin up. She would not be cowed.

  It was Ford’s turn to smile. “Whenever you wish, Ruby. You do exactly as you please, don’t you? You always have.”

  When he turned abruptly on his heel, Ruby had the strange sensation of wishing to slap his face while at the same time wanting to bury her head in his shoulder. She felt safe in his arms. Soon they would be in London. Soon.

  16

  Ford threw his evening coat onto the chair and poured himself a whiskey. The trip had not turned out at all how he had planned. He had taken the job because King paid well and it was an easy enough assignment. Shadow King and watch Ruby, though neither really needed him.

  Instead of secretly keeping Ruby safe from King and keeping King ignorant of their past association, it was all topsy-turvy. King had become more engrossed with Ruby, though she did not view him in the same light, and Ford himself was fighting his own feelings for her.

  It was getting harder and harder to be near her and not crush her against him. When they were younger, he had viewed her with a mixture of annoyance and delight. She had always had a quick mind, and Ford knew that she was neglected at home b
y her mother and despised by her sister.

  But as a young woman, she was enchanting. He only had to watch her enter a room to see all eyes turn to her. It was exciting. And when he had watched her onstage, she held the audience enthralled. She moved across the stage with an easy elegance, and no one could look away from her lovely face and trim figure.

  He took a long sip of the whiskey and closed his eyes. As a Pinkerton detective, he had never become emotionally involved with his clients or their problems. He maintained a cool distance and kept a calm head. This time, everything was different. He felt himself falling in love with a woman he had known his entire life, only now it seemed like he barely knew her.

  He tried to forget that night in Connecticut. He had behaved badly. She had seemed so lost and alone that night. He should not have taken advantage of her, but her plump lips and the feel of her skin underneath his hands had been his undoing.

  She was unlike any other woman he had ever met. A delicious mix of independence and innocence. Most women wanted to marry and have children. But Ruby seemed to dismiss it all. Instead, she was traveling to London with the vaudeville troupe to chase her dreams.

  He thought of King. He knew him well enough to know that he was serious in his desire for Ruby. She may not understand men like him, but Ford did. Even if it meant staying close to them both to protect her, Ford would. He would ignore his own feelings and desires just to make certain that Ruby was safe. That was all that mattered.

  Ruby and Bessie sat in their deck chairs taking in the midmorning sun. Ruby had laid aside her novel while Bessie was trying to crochet a pair of mittens. She was learning how to do it, and her mittens were badly misshapen.

  “Oh, this is hopeless!” Bessie said.

  “Practice makes perfect, Bess,” Ruby encouraged her, though she smiled at her attempt. “I’m sure Ezra will like them.”

  Bess gasped. “How did you know?”

  Ruby shrugged her shoulders. “Who else?”

  Greta Vadas strolled by on the arm of a man they didn’t know, and Bessie rolled her eyes.

  “They work fast, those sisters,” she murmured.

  “Well, after all, it’s only a five-day journey. They don’t have much time,” Ruby replied.

  Bessie laughed until they saw King and Ford walking toward them. Both men looked handsome in light gray suits, but Ruby was always drawn to Ford. He was a little taller than King and younger, and she admired the cut of his cheekbones and firm lips.

  “A lovely morning, ladies,” King said smoothly.

  “Yes, it is,” Ruby said, looking up and shielding her eyes with her arm from the sun.

  She glanced once at Ford, but he immediately looked away.

  “I’m organizing a game of whist after lunch. Do you ladies play?”

  They both nodded, and King grinned. “Excellent. Come to my suite after lunch.”

  Ruby sighed when they had moved out of sight.

  “Is that awkward? King and Ford?” asked Bessie, who knew about her dearest friend’s first love.

  Ruby settled back into her chair. “Certainly not. One is from my past, and the other is helping me with my future.”

  She picked up her novel, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and turned back to the page she had left off. But she wasn’t reading. She remembered the searching gaze Ford had given her just then and his words last night: You do exactly as you please, don’t you? You always have.

  She had almost laughed at his words then. She felt as if she was being pulled left and right with no control over anything.

  “You didn’t have to say yes to the game,” Ford said suddenly, taking the deck chair next to her.

  “Didn’t I?” Ruby glanced at him.

  He kept the brim of his hat low to escape the sun’s glare, and when she looked at him, he looked away.

  “You have no idea what you are doing,” he said softly.

  “And you do?”

  He looked at her. “Yes.”

  “What am I doing?”

  He seemed to think about his words. “You’re making a man fall in love with you.”

  “I’m not doing that. I only want his support, not his love.”

  Ford said nothing, and when Ruby turned to look down the deck, he was gone. She closed her eyes in frustration. The end of their time on board ship could not come soon enough.

  King greeted both ladies warmly and offered them a drink. Bessie asked for a sherry, and Ruby took a brandy. Ruby surveyed the table that had been set up for their game while King nursed his own drink and Ford had his usual whiskey.

  Ford seemed distant and aloof and barely acknowledged Ruby. He wasn’t overly friendly to Bessie either, but he was at least polite.

  “So. Who will be scorekeeper?” King asked.

  “I will,” Bessie said, smiling.

  “Good. I hate keeping score.” King laughed.

  They all drew cards, with the two highest cards drawn playing against the two lowest. King and Ruby partnered against Bessie and Ford, and they sat facing their partners.

  King designated himself dealer, and no one disputed him. Ruby watched as he handed the cards to Ford, who shuffled them expertly. He then handed the cards back to King.

  “You shuffle very well,” Bessie said, admiringly.

  “Thank you. I believe in trying to do most things well,” Ford returned.

  King smiled while Ruby frowned. Was Ford flirting with Bessie?

  Bessie cut the cards, and King dealt them out, starting with Ford. Each card was handed out one at a time, facedown, until each player had thirteen cards. The final card, which belonged to King, was turned face-up to indicate which suit was trumps.

  The turned-up card would remain face-up on the table until it was King’s turn to play the first trick. At which point, he could pick up the card and place it in his hand.

  “We never played much cards at home,” Ruby said, looking at King.

  “Why was that?” King asked as he looked at his hand.

  “My mother didn’t approve of cards. She thought they were unladylike.”

  She met Ford’s eyes across the table and then looked away from him.

  Ruby didn’t like cards. As she had not played them as a child nor in her later years, she found them boring and much preferred chess or dominoes. She liked a game of strategy. She had learned chess from her father, and he had boasted that she was superb player. She had played once with Ford when she was younger, and he had won the game, though barely.

  She remembered that Ford was an excellent card player. He had a keen mind, and his memory was outstanding. He could remember exactly what had been played, and when he and Bessie won, she was not surprised. They played another game of men versus women, and thanks to Ford’s skill, his team won again.

  “I forgot how good you were at cards,” King told Ford as he refreshed everyone’s drinks.

  “It helps pass the time. Being a detective is not as exciting as everyone seems to think,” Ford said absently as he shuffled the deck.

  “Except for that baroness—in Ireland, wasn’t it?” King smiled widely.

  “Perhaps. But she wasn’t a baroness. She was a marchioness. And she lived in Scotland,” Ford corrected him.

  Ford’s dark eyes met Ruby’s, and she looked away from him almost immediately.

  “Yes! That’s right!” He clapped him on the back as he handed out the drinks. “The women do seem to love Ford. I think it must be that Southern charm.”

  Ford looked at the drink King held in his hand but continued shuffling.

  “Do you believe in Southern charm, Ruby?” King asked.

  “I suppose I must since I’m a Southern girl. But I think what most people call charm is really good manners and treating people with respect.”

  “Ah, I would agree with you. Except, I think, when it comes to women and Ford; they want more than his good manners and respect. If you get my meaning.” He took a large gulp and then laughed.

  Ruby had c
ome to realize that King liked his drink and much of it. They ignored his remark, and when he joined the table, the teams were Ruby and Ford against King and Bessie.

  “If Ford wins again, I think this might be the last round,” King chuckled.

  Ruby arched her back from the chair. She was now sitting across from Ford, and she felt his eyes on her as King dealt the hand out. She pressed one foot out to stretch and connected with the table. She looked at Bessie, who was staring at her hand, and at King, who was sipping his drink and smiling at his hand.

  When she moved her toes to stretch again, she moved them along the table but then realized with a sense of horror that she was pressing her toes into the calf and knee of another person. She froze and looked at Ford.

  She met his gaze, which was hot—almost smoldering—and she withdrew her foot immediately. She wanted to mouth “sorry” but felt stupid and childish. Had he thought she was doing it on purpose?

  Bessie stifled a yawn as Ford and Ruby won the third round. “We should leave. It’s near dinnertime, and we need to dress,” Bessie stated.

  “Is it really?” King set his glass down and looked at the clock. “So it is! Time does fly when you are in the company of such lovely creatures.”

  King said the words to include Bessie, but his eyes were fixed on Ruby. “You’ll join me at my table, won’t you?”

  He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she nodded. “Of course. If you like.”

  “Most assuredly.” She felt his hand slide down her arm and looked at Ford.

  Ford was standing up to escort Bessie to the door. She stood as well and saw King lick his lips. She felt the blush across her cheeks as she walked to the door.

  “I’ll escort the ladies to their cabins,” Ford said.

  “Southern charm! You see, Ruby? And I’ll see everyone at dinner,” King said in a dismissal.

  As they walked to their cabins, Bessie said, “There is to be a small band tonight! I think there will be dancing as well.”

  “Dancing? That’s charming,” Ruby said as they came to Bessie’s cabin.