Ravishing Ruby (24 page)

“With Louisa as my slave girl?” A look of careful consideration crossed his face. “I assume the room has everything I might require.”

“Of course, my lord. Have I ever failed you?” Given that she'd actually helped him find his wife, she was sure of the answer.

“You know the answer to that.” He smiled at her, a rare occurrence from the stoic marquess.

“I will arrange the room, then—and give my best to your companion.” She sent a smile of her own to Louisa, hiding beneath the cloak. And then Lord Thorton came to mind. “And may I speak to you a moment about a difficulty I may encounter?”

Swanston nodded and after only the briefest of explanations about Thorton's threats, offered her his full support before going off to join his wife. It was impossible to miss the affection between them even with Louisa so carefully disguised.

Yes, there were reasons she did what she did. It was good to remember them, even if they didn't truly change how she felt.

She gave her directions regarding the Arabian room to one of the housemaids, asking that a complimentary bottle of champagne be placed in the room, and was just turning away when Simms called her over.

“There's a lady waiting to speak to you.”

“A lady?” Ruby had been through this before—although never a true lady calling during business hours. They tended to sneak in during the early afternoon when the house was quiet.

“Quite definitely. Nobody else can hit quite that tone of nervousness and condescension at the same time. She says she's a friend of Lady Bliss, although she added that Lady Bliss does not know she is here.”

Some girl nervous about her wedding night? Or perhaps a girl in trouble? It would not be the first time a lady had come to her looking for help when finding herself in a family way. Ruby had nothing but advice to offer in those situations, although in extreme cases she had told the women where to look for somebody who could offer what they needed.

She hoped that was not the case now. “Where have you put her?”

“As the parlor is full, I put her in the small study. I know you don't like to use it for public business, but…”

“I quite understand. There are not many places to stash a lady here after nightfall. I will see to her.”

Well, that had certainly been different. Ruby stood at the door to her parlor, her mind reviewing the conversation she'd just had.

“I want you to help me trap a man into marriage.”

Ruby was sure she'd blinked several times as she'd stared across at the young woman who sat there so calmly after stating her needs. Ruby knew that many of the women she'd helped over the years had in reality hoped that the secrets she taught them would help bring them to matrimony, but none had ever been so honest. Still, she was not sure she had it in her heart to help the lady, a Miss Angela Ripon. It seemed heartless to act so cold-blooded, although given what she knew of the man in question she was tempted. It would serve Lord Colton right if he did find himself trapped by a sweet, young minx like Miss Ripon.

But could it possibly end happily for either of them?

Lord Colton was a man of very specific tastes and it was hard to imagine any innocent, young lady meeting them and, despite her composure, Miss Ripon was clearly innocent. Ruby had done her best to be sure the young woman knew what she was asking for and had listened with care to her reply. She'd then told the girl to return in a couple of days for further discussion.

Miss Ripon had simply nodded, pulled her veils back over her face, and without another comment departed.

Ruby pasted on her public smile as she reentered the parlor. Thinking about whether she wished to help trap Lord Colton into marriage would only give her a headache.

“I am so glad you've decided to join us, Madame Rouge,” Lord Thorton said, rising from a chair.

And just like that her almost headache blossomed and grew. “Lord Thorton.” She held her smile in place.

“I was worried that you were out again,” he said.

“No, I was merely talking to a possible client.”

“Someone I know?”

“You know I can't answer such questions.”

“Ahh, is that a rule you still keep?”

“Do you really wish to discuss this now? I would have thought you had other pleasures in mind.” Please, oh please, let him be distractible.

“Are you offering?”

Damn. That was not what she had meant. “I am happy to set you up with any of my girls who is not presently busy.”

“Perhaps, but first we need to talk more. I still find myself unsatisfied with your answers.”

This had gone on long enough. It was time to end it, here and now. “Lord Thorton, I find I am tired of your threats,” she said. “I do not understand why you care so much about my actions. I understand your desire for order, but I am not your responsibility. I have spoken with several of my other patrons and they feel none of your displeasure. They are, in fact, quite satisfied with the services I provide and have no desire to have them threatened. They are more than willing to support me if need be. I cannot give you their names for obvious reasons, but I am sure you have seen them about my parlor. Now, do we need to make this a fight or can you not be satisfied with my promise that I will carefully consider your advice? I will even offer you a night on the house—with whichever of my girls you might choose.” She stared at him, gaze strong, back straight. She would not back down. She had never been a dithering fool and it was time that she quit acting like one where he was concerned.

Thorton did not say anything for a moment. She could see him consider her words, consider the truth of just who might support her. He might have seen her talking to Swanston earlier and he certainly knew the power of the other lords who patronized her house. Still, he was a man; he did not like to back down from a fight, but he could guess the cost of continuing. “I was only trying to be sure that all was as it should be.” He paused and she could tell he wished to say more. His gaze moved over her, sending small prickles of unease through her—and then he wilted like a grape in sun. She could feel the exact moment that he gave up the fight.

“I'll take the new girl, Marie,” he answered at last.

Perhaps this was one battle she had won. Thorton might bluster, but he did not seem inclined to push the issue—at least not at present. “I will make the arrangements with Marie.”

Madame Rouge strolled to the window, hips swaying. Looking out in the darkness was a perfect trick to gather her thoughts while being very much present and observed.

There was not much to see by the thin light of the gas street lamps. Her view was mostly of circles of light in the dark and flickering flames. There was the outline of trees and the faint glow from the windows down the street, and if she craned she could see the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, but that was all. She stood in this window so many times, looked out into the blackness, settling her mind and her body, that she could have closed her eyes and seen the same picture as she did with her eyes open.

Weariness again filled her as it had from nearly the moment she'd put on her wig.

Only a few more hours. Only a few.

And then she saw him. She watched him walk forward. Even in silhouette she knew those shoulders, knew the easy gait, the powerful stance.

Derek was here. He had come for her.

Joy filled her—and then confusion—and then a mixture of anger and despair.

What did he want? She no longer believed that they wanted the same thing.

Was he here to apologize? She could not picture the words leaving those firm, hard lips.

Did he want to ask her what had actually happened? Did he want to talk?

Or was he here to berate her further? Could she bear it if he was?

And what if he just wanted sex, wanted a good fuck?

That might be the worst of all. She didn't know if, even now, she had it in her to refuse him, but how could she not? How much more pain could she take?

And it was pain. All the more so because she could not stop the hope that seeing him gave her. She wanted so much. So much that had seemed possible yesterday and today seemed far, far from reality.

But even as her mind turned, trying to decide what she would say to him, how she would react, she saw him turn and walk off into the darkness.

He could not do it. That was the one thing he knew for sure. Until he knew what he wanted and what he was willing to pay to get it, he could not do anything. If he went to Ruby now, with his own desires undecided, then nothing good would come of it.

He must know his own mind before he could try to understand hers.

He walked across the street, and then down the street—and then another and another.

What did he want?

And what would he pay? Would he give up the sea? Would he give up his family? Would he give up…?

He didn't know. God, he hated not knowing.

And so he walked and walked and walked. On two occasions shadows slipped up behind him, but one look at the sneer on his face and the fisted hands at his sides and they faded back into the darkness from which they'd come. He had not fancy dress or a gold watch to entice a man into foolishness.

He was almost sorry for that fact; a good brawl might have been just what he needed. The world had a way of becoming very clear when heavy fists swung and survival was key.

What did he want?

And what was he willing to lose?

And then he changed the question, what was he not willing to lose? What would make life unbearable to be without?

And even as he had the thought, he saw Ruby's blue eyes before him and the answer was clear.

He still might not see his way through the morass, but he knew his endpoint, knew where he wanted to be.

Now he just had to decide how to get there.

She had risked herself twice to no obvious advantage and a great deal of hurt. Could she do it again?

Ruby walked across her bedchamber and looked down at the sapphire ear bobs. She could sell them for enough to give her a new start. They were not a bad legacy, a bad dowry. Many men would be pleased with no more than them, and no matter what else happened, they were hers. There would be more money if she sold Madame Rouge's and that did not count that which she had secreted away, but she was unsure how Derek would feel about such funds.

So, could she take the risk? She had walked into the lion's den twice already for Derek.

Could she not do it again?

Last night as she'd watched Derek walk away, she had thought the dream was over, had felt his rejection fill her, but in the small hours of the morning as she stared up at the canopy of her lonely bed she concentrated on something else.

He had come.

He might have left, but first he had come.

He was confused, perhaps as confused as she. Could she blame him for not knowing the answer, when she could barely form the question?

So could she try one more time? Could she admit, even to herself, what it was she wanted? Having denied all thought of hearth and family for all these years, having based her life on the denial of those wants, could she now admit that she had been wrong? Would admitting to that want cancel out all the years she had spent insisting that she was happy?

No. She had been happy, happy and content. That answer was clear in her heart and in her soul.

Perhaps she had become Madame Rouge because first Lord Percy, and then her father, had abandoned her, but that did not mean she had not felt the satisfaction in creating something powerful, something good. And Madame Rouge's was good. It was not perfect, but for the world she lived in it was good. It offered her girls as much safety and security as it was possible to find in this world. It might not be what any woman dreamed of for herself, but it was better than any of the alternatives. And she had done well in offering couples a place to meet and find love that was outside of the norm, a place of safety and exploration. Would Louisa and Swanston ever have found each other without her? Would Bliss and Duldon? Sarah and Jonathan? She didn't think so. And there were others, like Lord Milson, perhaps not as dramatic, but still equally in need of her advice. And what about this new lady, Angela? Who would help her if Ruby didn't?

But still, it was no longer enough. She didn't know if the change was because of Derek or if it had been coming regardless, but come it had. She wanted more. She wanted the dream she'd had as a girl, the family, the children—the husband.

But only if it was Derek. In truth she didn't know what she would do if he was not interested. She wasn't sure she could reconcile herself to another man, but neither was she sure that she could give up the dream of a family.

Children. They were something she had never really considered before, but now slowly they were filling the corners of her mind that Derek did not already fill. The thought of strong, stout boys, looking out at her with their father's eyes, and petite girls being swung up by a laughing man consumed her.

But could she risk it all again? Was anything worth the sharp burn of rejection?

Yes.

Yes.

Surety filled her. Yes. If she lost she would only be back where she was now, facing choices she did not want, but if Derek was agreeable…

She would not think ahead, would not let either fear or hope rule her. Only this moment mattered. She walked to the small writing desk in the corner and lifted the quill, ready to dip it in ink.

There was a knock on the door. She whirled about, pen still in hand.

Why now? Why when she finally found her courage and purpose?

Striding across the room, she swung the door open. “Yes?”

Simms stood there, holding out a sliver of paper. “There's a note, madam.”

A note? She reached forward and took it without saying a word. A dozen possibilities ran through her mind as she refused to focus on the one she wished—only, only, it was, Derek had written.
I'd like to talk. Tonight. Tell me where and when. I'd rather not meet at Madame Rouge's.

Her breath stopped. Indeed, her heart felt as if it would never beat again. Dare she hope?

She placed the note upon the desk, grabbed the pen, and scribbled an answer below.

Ten o'clock tonight. The warehouse.

She did not sign it, but held it to her lips for the briefest of moments, sealing it with an unseen kiss.

Another quick note to her grandfather.

Handing both notes to Simms, she tried to find her breath again. That was done, now all she could do was wait.

Ruby stood inside the nearly dark building, the only illumination that of a single lamp placed upon the center table. It was strange to be here alone, at night—and still dressed as Madame Rouge. Always before, the room had been filled with filtered daylight leaking in through the high shutters. It was hard to decide if the chamber was eerie or beautiful. There was something in its stark silence and height that reminded her of the cathedrals she'd visited as a child, the tall shelves rising in long columns, the particles of dust floating in the dim light and the echoing silence.

Would he come? She couldn't believe she was back to this moment, to this waiting and wondering.

And this hoping. She'd sworn she was done with hope, would live only in the moment, but how could she resist when he had sent the note? Granted, he might only want the chance to berate her, but…

Don't think about it. Wait. Just wait.

She would find out soon enough what he wanted. At least, this time if he did reject her there would be no one to see. One of the footmen, Billy, had accompanied her, but she'd stationed him outside. He was to let Derek in, but no one else.

The floor creaked and she turned, nothing. It must have been one of the army of cats kept to prevent mice from chewing at the precious bolts of fabric. She wondered if there were any kittens. As a girl there had been few things as delightful as skittering about after the tiny, furry creatures. She might need one if she needed to move to Cornwall after this night.

Don't think about that.

Think about the kittens, her own Galahad and all the ones here. It had been worth her grandmother's scolds over dusty skirts and dirty noses to hold the tiny, wiggling bodies, to feel as they relaxed against her, tiny hearts slowing as they fell into sleep.