The Vaudeville Star

by Nicola Italia

  King left, and then a woman’s voice joined his in the hallway. They must have placed her in a room if she was too tipsy to move about.

  Ruby waited for Ford to leave, but he didn’t. She watched him walk to the window and look out over the street. Was he watching for King?

  “You can come out now,” he said quietly.

  Ruby took in a deep breath. “How did you—?”

  “I can smell your perfume, Ruby.”

  Ruby moved forward. “I didn’t want to come out.”

  “I know,” he said, but he still wouldn’t face her.

  He seemed distracted. Not himself. She tried to change the subject. “Have you heard? About opening night?”

  “I was there.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you think?”

  “You were wonderful. Perfect. What else do you want me to say?”

  “Don’t say anything if it’s begrudgingly said.”

  “I saw your performance. And then the one after. You have King twisted around your little finger and now you have the king.”

  “You’re drunk, and you’re being rude.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I’ve told you the truth. Doesn’t it suit?”

  “If King likes me, I’ve never encouraged it.”

  “Nor discouraged it.”

  “And if the king admires me, well, so be it.”

  “Ah, yes. Ruby Mae Sutton and her admirers.” Ford turned to her then. “How many admirers to do you have?”

  Ruby flushed.

  “Let’s see. There’s King. We all know he wants to marry you. That’s nothing new. Then there’s poor Archie Moore. A puppy love.”

  “You’re being cruel.”

  Ford came to stand next to her. “Then there’s the actual king,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Who meets you one day and suddenly the next you are here at the Devonshire Ball.”

  “And what of it?”

  “Do you have any idea the prestige attached to this house and its parties? Women would probably kill their rivals if they could to obtain an invite to this party.”

  “So?”

  “But you obtained one so easily. I wonder how.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing. Just that maybe you don’t want to be King’s wife or mistress, but for the king of England, you might just lift up your skirts to show those pretty little legs.”

  “Bastard!” Ruby swore at him, but when she lifted her hand to strike him, he easily dodged the blow.

  He pressed her against the wall, pinning her there. “Maybe you just like attention so much you can’t help yourself. Can you?” He leaned down, his mouth inches from hers.

  “You don’t know me, Ford.”

  He grinned. “Haven’t we been over this? Aren’t you the same girl who stripped naked and went into that watering hole knowing damned well I was supposed to marry your sister?”

  “She was wrong for you. You know that.”

  “Maybe. Possibly. But you still did it.”

  “I don’t regret it.”

  “And then you gave yourself to me in Connecticut.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think of all the men in your life, I don’t know you?” he whispered.

  She smelled the whiskey on his breath. “Perhaps you do a little.”

  “Perhaps I do a lot. And perhaps I know you too well, Ruby.” He released one arm and brushed his other hand along her collarbone and over the tops of her breasts. Ruby couldn’t stop the little moan that escaped her lips.

  “Moan for me.”

  “Ford—”

  “Just don’t tell me I don’t know you. I do know you, Ruby.”

  His mouth crushed against hers, and when he pulled her against him, she threw her arms around his neck.

  “Ford,” she whispered in his ear.

  He pressed against her, and she could feel the muscles in his chest and arms. He held her so tightly she could feel the tension in him as well. He was jealous. She was joining a world that was far removed from his own, with a king who now admired her.

  Ford was tightly wound. He had spent much of the afternoon with King and all of it had been on his upcoming nuptials to Ruby. Ford knew well that Ruby had no intention of marrying King, yet King certainly wanted her.

  He recalled the opening night performance and how he had watched with a sinking heart as Ruby was presented to the king of England. He was angry with himself. He should have forced Ruby to wed him after their first night together. He was tired of hiding his feelings and tired of watching Ruby move further and further away from him. He knew now there was no other woman for him but Ruby. He loved her. He could hide it and suppress his feelings, but that was the truth. He loved her.

  “Ruby . . .” His fingers trailed into her hair.

  He remembered that night on board the ship when she had thrown her pins at him and then he had taken the rest out. Her hair had fanned across his pillow like a golden wave, and he ached to see it like that again.

  “Ruby, darling.” His voice was husky and his Southern accent even stronger.

  They had grown up in the same little town and in the same small world. They were both Southerners at heart with a love of magnolia trees and sweet iced tea and pecans and tradition.

  “Honey, I’m sorry. I am a bastard. I’m a jealous bastard.”

  Ruby looked up into his eyes, her little mouth red from his kisses. “Why are you jealous, Ford?”

  “I don’t want anyone else around you. It drives me crazy. And I’m behaving like a heel.”

  “You know you don’t have anything to be jealous about. You’re the only one who means anything to me.” Her gray eyes glistened in the darkened room.

  “Ruby, I love you. I do.”

  “You do?” she asked, afraid she had misheard the words.

  “I swear I do.”

  He pressed against her then, kissing her mouth and pulling up her skirts. In a frantic movement, he unbuttoned his trousers and was immensely grateful for her frilly drawers with the open seam. When he eased into her, she was tight and wet, and she threw her head back in pleasure.

  “Ford!”

  When he had buried himself to the hilt, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and spend all night loving her, but it would not be possible that night.

  “Sweet Ruby,” he murmured in her ear as he picked her up and moved her to the sofa.

  Laying her down upon it, he admired her gray eyes set in the small oval face that he had grown to adore.

  “I’ve always loved you, Ford,” she said quietly. “Always.”

  Moving slowly in and out, the sight of her face and the look in her eyes almost sent him over the edge. He could feel the silkiness of her legs wrapped around him even as her upper body remained clothed. When he leaned in to kiss her, he watched her face as the orgasm swept over her, and he easily spilled his seed inside her warm body.

  They lay together on the sofa for several minutes before he buttoned his trousers.

  “Ruby,” he said as she smoothed down her dress.

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t plan this.”

  “I know that,” she said softly.

  “I meant what I said.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I love you. I’ve been stubborn as a mule, maybe not wanting to admit it to myself, but I see it clearly now. I love you, Ruby Mae.”

  Ruby smiled, trying to fight the tears she felt springing to her eyes. “It’s only taken you a decade or so to catch up with me.”

  “None of that matters though. The point is I do love you, and we need to decide what to do next.”

  “What do we need to do?”

  “I want to marry you. I don’t want any other man coveting you.”

  “You mean King Parker.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I know it’s selfish, but can we wait and make our
plans after Paris?” she asked.

  Ford smiled and kissed her forehead. “It’s not selfish. I know you’re worried about his reaction, and hell, so am I. But we need to think about the tour and everyone else involved.”

  “So after Paris, then what?” Ruby asked.

  “After Paris, I intend to make Ruby Sutton, Ruby Rutledge.”

  Ruby smiled widely. “Ruby Rutledge. And my career onstage?”

  “We can live in New York. I’ll remain with the agency, and you can return to your beloved stage.”

  “You wouldn’t ask me to give it up?”

  “Of course not. That’s your dream.”

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “You were always one of my dreams too, Ford. Now I have both.”

  22

  Bessie pestered Ruby from the minute she entered their hotel room until she went to sleep. When she woke up the next morning, Bessie was there again. What did Devonshire House look like? What did the ladies wear? What was the king like? What did the queen wear? Were they nice? Were they dripping in jewels? Did she talk to the royal couple?

  “Don’t I even get coffee?” Ruby croaked.

  Bessie was already dressed and promised to bring up a tray of coffee with breakfast if Ruby would submit to her questions. She faithfully promised, and Bessie was gone in a flash. Ruby turned over in bed to sleep a few more minutes, but a knock sounded on the door. She wondered what Bessie had forgotten as she threw on her dressing gown to admit her friend.

  “Oh,” Ruby said softly as she came face-to-face with King Parker.

  “Hello, Ruby. I am sorry to intrude on you so early in the morning, but I needed to speak with you,” he said, looking behind him in an agitated manner.

  “Of course.” Ruby tied her dressing gown tightly about her waist. “My roommate, Bessie, has just left to get breakfast,” she explained as King entered and she closed the door behind him.

  “Yes, I passed her.”

  Ruby pulled the covers up on her mussed bed and turned back to King. “You said you needed to speak to me.”

  “I do.”

  Ruby opened the curtains, and light flooded into the room. It was the first time she really looked at King, and she noticed his clothes were crumpled, and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved. He looked as if he had not been to bed the night before.

  “Are you all right, King? You don’t look well. Are you ill?” she asked in concern.

  “I didn’t sleep last night,” he admitted.

  “Should I call for the hotel doctor?”

  “No. No, he won’t help,” he said, shaking his head.

  “There’s no alcohol in the room, or I would offer you a drink. You seem to need it,” she said as she watched him pace the room.

  “A drink? No. I don’t need a drink. Look, Ruby, I must speak with you before your roommate returns.” He caught her hand, and together they sat upon the sofa.

  “King, if it is about our marrying . . .” Ruby began, trying to sound polite.

  “Marrying? No. That’s not it at all.”

  “I’m sorry. Please. Continue.”

  King nodded. “I need your help.”

  “Of course. I owe you so much. How can I help you? What do you need?”

  “There was an accident last night. A most unfortunate accident. The police have been notified. It’s all a big misunderstanding, but I need you to tell the police that we were together last night.”

  “Together?” she asked uncertainly.

  “Yes.”

  “All night?” Ruby frowned.

  “Exactly. This way when they question you, they’ll see that everything is just as I said.”

  “But I don’t understand—”

  “Damn it, Ruby! You don’t need to understand.” He stood up and began pacing. “I just need you to tell them that we were together at the town house. In Mayfair.”

  “Will the police come looking for me?” she asked.

  “Probably. But once you tell them what I’ve told you, everything will be fine. It’s simple. We were together all night. That’s it.”

  Ruby looked away from King and to the floor.

  “Come, sweetheart! I’m not asking you to do anything so awful. Am I?”

  Ruby shook her head.

  “After all the things that I have done for you, surely this small favor is little in comparison.”

  “Of course, King. I’m happy to help you. And the accident you mentioned—”

  “Nothing at all to trouble you. I knew I could count on you.” He kissed her hand before he departed as quickly as he had arrived.

  After King left the hotel room, Ruby stared at the door. She didn’t understand what he was asking. The conversation had been bizarre. She didn’t want to confide in Bessie, but she knew that Ford was on the same floor. He would know what to do. She would tell him everything and listen to what he said.

  Bessie returned shortly after with a tray filled with fruit, toast, and coffee. Ruby gratefully accepted the coffee, thankful not to have to go downstairs and face all the people today. When a knock sounded again on the door, Bessie answered it, admitting a hotel porter carrying a large baskets of flowers.

  “Oh my!” she said when the large bouquet had been deposited inside their room. “Quick! Read the card, Ruby!”

  Ruby found the card, and when she read it, she couldn’t help but smile widely. There was a coat of arms and his signature.

  “They are from His majesty, the king,” Ruby said, handing it to her.

  Bessie took it and feigned a bored response. “Oh yes. How tiresome. They are from His Majesty, the king.”

  Ruby laughed at her friend’s air of boredom. “What should I say, Bess? He’s being polite. He asked me to sing last night, and I did.”

  “You don’t think it’s more than politeness?” Bess wondered.

  “No. I met his mistress, Alice Keppel. She’s quite a fixture by his side,” Ruby confirmed. “I don’t think a man his age, and indeed a king, needs a younger woman like me. He wants a woman like Alice, who is more a companion and confidante.”

  Ruby looked down at the card and thought again of the conversation between herself and King Parker. She wanted Ford’s advice. In truth, she just wanted to see Ford and feel his arms around her. She had not told Bessie about their intimate encounter or anything that had happened the night before with King Parker and Ford at the party.

  She wanted to keep her romance with Ford secret until the timing was right, and she didn’t want to involve Bessie in anything unnecessary.

  After Bessie’s numerous questions had been satisfied, Ruby dressed in a light blue frock and pulled on her gloves and hat. The two women had decided to visit the Victoria and Albert Museum and take tea at whatever shop caught their fancy.

  As they were set to leave the hotel, a porter stopped them in the hallway to tell them two gentlemen were downstairs waiting to see Miss Ruby Sutton.

  “Did they say what they wanted?” Ruby asked.

  “No, Miss.”

  “Should I wait for you here?” Bessie asked.

  “No. It shouldn’t take long. Let’s see them together.”

  When they came down the stairs, two gentlemen in dark suits were standing by the front desk. They nodded as the ladies descended the stairs and greeted Ruby.

  “Miss Sutton, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Thompson. This is Sergeant Barton.”

  “Gentlemen. My friend, Bessie Moore. Should we go into the back parlor? I think it’s deserted at this time of the morning.”

  Bessie looked at her friend uncertainly, but Ruby shook her head. Inside the parlor, Ruby and Bessie sat on a small sofa while Thompson took a seat facing them. Barton stood at the door. A waiter came in to ask if any of them wished for coffee or tea. They declined, and he closed the door behind him.

  “Miss Sutton, do you know why we are here?” Thompson asked her directly.

  Ruby tried to feign a look of innocence. “No. I’m afraid I don’t know.”

/>   “You are currently performing in the vaudeville show at the Matinee Theatre?” Thompson asked, looking through a small notebook he had taken from his jacket.

  “I am a singer. Bessie is in the show as well. She’s a dancer.”

  “I saw your performance opening night! You were wonderful,” said the younger sergeant in a sudden burst of excitement, earning him a stern look from the older Thompson.

  “Sorry, sir,” Sergeant Barton muttered while Ruby bit back a smile.

  Thompson held his notebook and flipped through the pages. “Do you know a man by the name of William Parker? He goes by the nickname King.”

  “Yes, I do, Inspector. He has financed our tour here to London and Paris. Our next city.”

  “Hmmm.” The inspector nodded, scanning the contents of his notebook. “How well do you know Mr. Parker?”

  Ruby met his brown eyes and looked at Bessie and then Sergeant Barton. “I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”

  “Come now, Miss Sutton. We are all adults. And as much as I enjoy the theater too, you ladies have a reputation.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Ruby could feel her face getting red.

  “That is most uncalled for! You know nothing about us!” Bessie said, coming to her friend’s defense.

  “All right. All right,” he said, raising his hands. “I’m not here to judge your actions. Tell me where you were last night, Miss Sutton. I understand you were invited to the ball at Devonshire House.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “By whom?” he asked, noting their conversation in his little book.

  “The king.”

  “King Parker?”

  “The king of England.”

  He raised his eyes to meet hers, and she nodded.

  “And at the party?”

  She could see the darkened room in her mind’s eye and Ford pressing her against the wall with his hot mouth moving over hers.

  “I sang for the assembly.”

  “Anything else of note?” he asked.

  She remembered Ford lifting her skirts and their combined sighs as he sank into her.

  “No.”

  “Then after the ball?”

  “After the ball?” she repeated, looking at Bessie and then the sergeant.