To Wed A Rebel (26 page)

Another bow, but Ruth did not miss the second glance that the captain gave him. Minor irritation flashed across the man’s face, quickly disguised for propriety’s sake. Isaac had told her about their run-in and she was thankful then that Gibson preferred to save face than admit he’d been fooled.

“First, I must ask after an important matter. Be assured, I shan’t detain you long, sir,” said Gibson quickly, with a polite ruthlessness. “There’s a man you used to be on friendly terms with, one William Darwick. Have you seen him of late?”

Isaac’s mouth twisted into a thoughtful shape. “Not for years – about – four, perhaps more? Do you know him?”

“He’s wanted for mutiny and the word is that he’s headed this way.”

“I heard similar talk in town.” Isaac nodded. “Apparently there was some rogue on the roads and we’re all to be vigilant. I never thought it could be William, of all people.” As if the thought had struck him there and then, Isaac asked, “You think he means to seek me out?”

Gibson gave Isaac a long, slow and calculated look. “If he does, you know what must be done?”

“Of course, I have no interest in coming between a man and the punishment the law has seen fit to give him. On my word, if he finds me, you will know of it.”

The answer seemed convincing enough to Ruth and the captain appeared satisfied. So much so that when another dance was due to begin, he turned to Ruth.

“Shall we, Mrs Roscoe?”

Captain Gibson was a fine dancer, almost too fine. It was not an eagerness, more a preciseness that took all fun from the activity. He was clinical in his actions, though he seemed to enjoy himself – or enjoyed being the best. If dancing with him kept him busy and away from any ill thoughts about her husband, Ruth was content to entertain Captain Gibson. And she would do so all night if she had to, though she missed Isaac’s company, closeness and caresses.

The dance ended and Ruth caught her breath, her cheeks rosy, only to hear a voice that sent her stomach plummeting into her light, silk shoes.

“Ruthie! Is that
you?
You look so…” there was a controlled, measured pause “…different.”

Chapter Six

Isaac

Isaac spotted him while Ruth was busy with that city man.
Griswell
. He looked like a coat stand, with his shoulders hunched and his middle a little fatter than when last they’d met. He seemed less content than ever. Isaac had assumed he would be happy, for he had all he ever wanted, didn’t he? His daughter was married to that oaf and now, with the right pressure, he could worm his way into further profit.

And a portion of that belonged to Isaac.

He hated that thought, hated that all he’d done still hung over him, that despite his desires to be a better man, he still navigated the packed room towards Griswell to demand what was owed. The two men didn’t talk at first – they didn’t have to. A quick meeting of eyes and Isaac continued walking, to the hallway, up the stairs, to the main landing and the privacy and quiet it offered.

Griswell took his time, but after ten or so minutes he followed with a nonchalant yet impatient air, as Isaac knew he would.

Just seeing him again was a reminder of how far he’d come to find Ruth, to be with her and know her – all of her – as he did. What he wouldn’t give to rewrite history, to have all he wanted, to be the man he should be and find her then, in another time, in another life, and give her all she deserved.

But it was not meant to be.

“I want what I am owed,” said Isaac, the second that Griswell was near enough to hear his low voice.

Griswell did not look surprised by the words, taking his time to answer in the darkened space. “You are owed nothing by me,” he said, as though each syllable was too much effort to waste on a man such as Isaac.

“Your daughter is now married to Pembroke, as you always intended her to be.”

“What of it?”

“I contained any threat to that union, at a great cost to myself.” Isaac instantly regretted what he spoke about Ruth, for it wasn’t true, she was no toll on him, not now. But he had to make his point; he had to try. “Thanks to you I have a wife I never wanted – a life I never sought.”

“Yours was always a risky business,” surmised Griswell.

“And you hired me,” said Isaac. “But you only gave me half the funds agreed to ensure the deed was done, with the other promised when the desired wedding had taken place.”

“Your point being?”

“Pay me the rest. Pay me what we agreed.”

“You backed out, or don’t you remember?” A yellow grin, small eyes. “What was it that changed your mind that night at the opera? A pang from your conscience, a sudden need for nobility, a stirring somewhere else?”

“Don’t.”

“Or did you recall the gentleman you once were and – as I suspect – fall for little Miss Osbourne knowing she’d never return such feelings when she found out who you really were?”

Isaac stepped forwards without meaning to, a decisive, threatening action. A servant scurried past them, casting an agitated look in their direction. It was the only disturbance they were given.

“It’s not about that; it’s not about Ruth,” said Isaac. “This is about the debt you must repay.”

“Must I? I had to drag the girl to your doorstep and I had to do it all myself. Perhaps I used you as a prop in the end, but the deed was one I did alone. Not you. Our contract, if you can call it that, is null and void.”

Isaac grabbed him, had him by the scruff and shook him. Through gritted teeth he said, “How can you be so despicable? You almost killed the woman who is now my wife. You drugged her to the brink of near-death.”

“At least, had I succeeded, you wouldn’t have had to marry her.”

“Watch your words, Griswell.” Isaac shoved the man backwards, wrinkling the long rug under their feet. “You are not fit to speak her name.”

Griswell paused, realising his taunts about Isaac’s true feelings were in fact truths. “Do not tell me you truly feel for the girl? Are you so weak-minded?”

“It is not a weakness to love,” he replied, “and love her I do.” More than anything, more than himself, more than life.

“Then you are more a fool than I took you for and I do not fund fools.”

“Would you like Lottie to know what kind of man her father is?”

“You presume that Lottie did not know from the beginning what had been planned.”

Isaac shook his head, for he was unsure if he could believe the man or that Ruth’s so-called friend had been party to the deception the entire time. “So your whole family is rotten to the core?”

“One has to look after one’s own.”

It was Isaac’s turn to hold a mocking smile. “How is that working out for you?”

He did not need the answer. He knew it already, but Griswell supplied one nonetheless.

“It’s a damn miracle I got Pembroke to make a will. That boy is more stubborn than I thought.” Anger fired up the merchant and made his eyes gleam like haematite. “I cannot pull any funds from him, I cannot garner his interest or influence in my own undertakings. The money he holds is spent on trinkets and waistcoats, on banal, inconsequential items, not increasing his fortune –
our
fortune. He has no common sense and he’s too pig-headed to understand a good investment when I shove it down his throat.”

“Then I would say it’s a happy ending all round.” Isaac grinned. “You won’t see a penny from that lout until he’s six feet under and his wife’s a happy widow. But knowing men like him, Albert will long outlast your daughter and then, I suppose, he’ll easily replace her. You will end up with nothing.”

Griswell’s sneer was satisfaction enough. Forget the money, forget him and all the reminders of a life he was finished with. Isaac left him to it – or would have done, had an offer not reached him.

“I have another task for you and this one I will pay you handsomely for.”

Isaac turned on the top stair. “I don’t want anything more to do with men like you.”

“Men like us,” corrected Griswell, his pointed feet shifting closer. “You are right in what you say about Pembroke. Unless something happens to him, I will never get what I want.”

Ah.

The suggestion made Isaac’s blood run cold. “And you want me to be that something?”

“Do not act like it would be too much of a stretch for you.”

“I am not a killer.”

“No, I suppose that would require some grit on your part,” said the merchant. “Instead you will coast by, choosing weakness, blundering your way about and never taking what you want.”

“As ridiculous as Pembroke is, the man doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Trust me, he does,” snarled Griswell. “What will it take? How much? Name your price and it will be yours.”

“No.”

“The act need not be done tonight and it could appear accidental.”

“Find another.”

“We could arrange a little outing, orchestrate a fall – or rather flop – from a great height.”

“The fat man can barely walk three paces without panting, what makes you think he’d agree to such an activity?”

“I shall tell him it would please Lottie. He’s at a loss when it comes to women, what to do with them or how to make them happy. When he knows you will be going, he will agree to anything. He would never like to be outdone by your sort.”

Your sort.

“We could be very rich men, you and I.” There was a challenge in those eyes, one begging to be met. “What say you, Isaac Roscoe?”

Chapter Seven

Ruth

Lottie’s greeting sent a shiver down Ruth’s spine and brought her back, for a second, to the person she had once been. Lesser, smaller, younger, overwhelmed and filled with self-doubt. She did not even have the presence of Isaac beside her, to remind her of who she had become. There was nothing to keep Ruth steady and anchored, only the aloof Captain Gibson who was another source of anxiety.

“I had hoped to see you sooner, Ruthie,” the young woman continued, as if no time had passed since they last spoke. As if they were not both different people, as if her father had not bruised and betrayed her. “Alas, being married does so take up one’s time, as I am sure you know. We were wed not long after that night at the opera. It all fell into place, you see.”

Or Lottie had fallen into Ruth’s place.

Ruth was quick to remember herself, her hand on her previous dance partner’s arm. “Do let me introduce Captain Gibson.”

It was a minor delaying tactic, a way to assemble her thoughts into something that resembled order.

“Oh, so
you’re
Captain Gibson. I have heard about you,” said Lottie, without missing a beat. “I was staying with Albert’s relatives, well, he’s related to everyone it seems. They mentioned something about that runaway you’re after? Anyway, it’s a terrible inconvenience. I do hope you’ll sort it out soon. I cannot stay late at any parties, because they are so worried about the matter. We have even been pushed into lodging at a dire little inn by the harbour for the night, in case there’s any trouble on the roads.”

Captain Gibson smiled a wide, uncharacteristic smile that was all teeth. Ruth was used to men fawning over Lottie and this was a repeat of all that had happened before. He, as many had been in the past, was enraptured by her. Ruth had not seen Lottie in two months, had not been able to reset her barriers to the woman and her charms and her pretty features and her butterfly ways.

And to her shame, Ruth was as much struck dumb as Gibson was.

Soon to join Lottie with a dour expression was Albert. Since last Ruth had seen him, he had gotten fatter and flabbier, with his clothes pushing at the buttons around his middle. He didn’t talk at first; he only lifted the corner of his mouth, as if he knew he should make some greeting but the effort was too much for him to manage.

“Father said I shouldn’t talk with you this evening, but I couldn’t help it,” she continued, waffling on, forgetting herself and their company. “Now the whole ball is talking about you. That’s
all
they can talk about. Apparently you made a big impression at some dance. I don’t know the host’s name – Mars? It is almost as if they don’t know all that happened back in London.” The scandal, the exile, the loneliness.
God
, Ruth remembered it like it was yesterday, though the pain had dulled. Lottie added, “I do think someone should tell them, don’t you? At least it would put a stop to this nonsense. Anyway, gosh, Ruthie, look at you – look, I – well, you’re certainly still you.”

Ruth’s stomach felt like it had been wrung dry. “Do you mean to say that your father is here?”

“There is a problem with a shipment nearby apparently and he decided to drop in,” supplied Albert, waving his meaty hand. “I do not know the details; it’s all so tiring to me. Working for a living is so crude and common. I don’t know why he expects me to take an interest.”

Ruth felt Isaac’s absence like a void, an empty space beside her, a piece missing. She rustled up a few words, picking them up off the floor. “And you are both well?”

It was impossible not to stare at Albert. To contemplate all that could have taken place between them. Marriage, servitude, chained to him for ever, another life lived where she was another woman. And yet here was Lottie in her place, but it was not the Lottie she knew, nor the one she had loved. The other woman wasn’t happy; Ruth could tell it by a mere glance. She had known her too long not to notice. It was a mixed feeling, not jealousy – God, no, Ruth would never trade places now – it was a bitter concern. All that had been done to Ruth was not Lottie’s doing, but her father’s, and yet the girl’s link to it still stung.

Even if it had turned out for the best.

Ruth had come up the victor, entirely without meaning to.

One look into Lottie’s eyes told her that she knew it too.

“I am as well as I can possibly be under the circumstances,” answered Lottie through her small teeth and Ruth could sense all that was unsaid, see it in her subtle movements, a need to confide, to say all the things she thought at night, but could tell no one. That had been their routine, to air all their grievances, to be honest to a fault, buried under bedcovers, their secrets pulled out from their hideaways.