Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Ginger had just arrived home from her meeting at the Savoy and stood in the foyer of the Braddocks’ home in Cairo, removing her hat. A servant had helped her inside, but it didn’t appear anyone other than the servants were here.
Her eyes drifted to the closed door of her father’s study. She had avoided it. The whole house felt rather haunted. She half-expected her father to come to the doorway, pipe in hand. Or Henry.
Their ghosts crept around this place, reminding her of their last minutes together and the shocking violence.
She swallowed, then crossed toward the staircase. Though her own bedroom held its own set of frightening memories, she would rather be in there. Especially when no one else was home.
Bounding up the stairs, she rushed to her room, then closed the door.
She set her back to the wall, panting, the wooden box containing the pistol tucked under her arm, her hat in her hand.
Her trunk remained at the foot of her bed, closed and unpacked, as she’d requested.
She opened it and pushed some of her nursing uniforms to the side, then plunked the pistol case inside it.
Sitting on the floor, she set her elbow on the edge of the open trunk and covered her eyes with her hands. She’d thought she could come back here. That she was stronger now.
Her meeting had made her doubt that.
Looking down at her hand, she fingered Noah’s ring. The questions it could raise worried her. She removed the ring, then placed it in a jewelry pouch.
Her finger felt strangely naked. Strange, given that she’d only worn it for a few weeks. She closed the trunk and stood. Noah’s at the front. He won’t know you removed it.
When her family had come to Cairo, they’d thrown themselves into society. Yet those friends and social circles had largely abandoned them this past year. Ginger’s name had been tarnished so profoundly that even the boldest retraction couldn’t restore it.
By coming to Cairo, she’d face taking part in society again. Dread filled her.
She went to the wardrobe in the room and pushed it open. It was empty, and the scent of warm cedar greeted her. After the spring, she’d sold almost all her frocks and jewelry. They had sold everything of value in the house to pay off some of her father’s enormous debts.
Fortunately, the largest debt her father had owed was to Stephen and, though that debt remained unsettled, Stephen wouldn’t return to demand repayment.
The house and furniture alone had remained unsold, as there was a question as to its role in the estate.
Her father’s solicitor in Cairo had advised them that the new earl might have a say in the whole matter.
She didn’t have a single thing she could wear to a ball—unless her mother had brought from Alexandria that dress she’d purchased for the dinner with William.
Her wardrobe was severely limited, and what little she’d kept would serve for one or two outings before the gossipers in Cairo society took notice.
They needed little encouragement to skewer her.
Perhaps Lucy would have something she could wear. They were nearly the same size, though Lucy had grown about an inch taller. Ginger’s recent time on the front had also made her slenderer than her younger sister. Rations of tinned foods and bully beef seemed to have that effect on almost everyone.
Ginger left the room and headed toward Lucy’s.
Once inside, she was surprised at how quickly Lucy had accommodated herself.
The décor was sparse but comfortable, as though Lucy had brought most of her things from Alexandria.
Ginger went to her wardrobe and opened the doors.
As she did, a hatbox, poorly situated inside, tumbled forward.
The lid of the box popped off, the contents spilling. Ginger leaned forward to collect the assortment of envelopes and postcards when familiar handwriting caught her attention.
The style was distinct, and she’d been the recipient of weekly letters from the sender for years.
Stephen.
A chill went through her. Ginger lifted the letter. It pulled free from a bundle—all from Stephen.
My darling Lucy,
I long to see you, feel your lips pressed to mine once more …
Ginger’s pulse pounded in her ears. A love letter?
She skimmed it faster, feeling sick, light-headed. She could barely concentrate on the contents, her face flushing. What on earth? When had Stephen sent Lucy love letters? And why? Stephen had claimed for years that Ginger was the object of his desires, and his obsession had been dangerous.
What could he possibly have been up to?
She scanned the letter for a date but found none. The absence of envelopes also stymied the satisfaction of her curiosity.
“I’ll just be a minute …” Lucy’s voice came from just outside the door, then the door opened.
Ginger jerked her head up as Lucy froze in the doorway.
Fantastic.
Lucy’s eyebrows drew together, then her eyes moved to the letter in Ginger’s hands.
Ginger lowered the letter. Nothing could be done now. Lucy had caught her with the evidence.
Lucy stormed up to Ginger, hand outstretched. “What in God’s name are you doing? Searching my things?” She snatched the letter, then her face paled.
“No, I came to see if I could borrow a dress, and the hatbox fell.” Ginger tried to remain composed. “When did Stephen write this?”
“Don’t you dare ask me questions. It’s none of your concern.
” Lucy’s dark eyes flashed. She gathered her letters, then replaced them.
“Anyhow, it doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago, and none of us have heard from him for months.
” Tears filled her eyes. “And I tried to call on Angelica yesterday and she wouldn’t see me. I’m an outcast in society now.”
Demanding an answer from Lucy would be fruitless.
In Lucy’s eyes, Ginger had violated her privacy about a secret matter.
And she believed Ginger was to blame for their position, though Ginger and her mother had explained that losing the family fortune had to do with their father’s debts.
The scandal that had erupted between Ginger and Noah before her father’s death had overshadowed everything.
Ginger put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Lucy, you aren’t an outcast. We may not have the money we once did, but we still have a place in respectable society.”
“Do we?” Lucy placed the hatbox back into her wardrobe, then shut the doors. “I’m not so sure. I can hardly expect to keep up with my friends, even though William has been so generous and paid for everything we’ve done.”
Had it been only the week earlier, Ginger would have brushed Lucy’s concerns to the side.
But she’d need to return to society if she was to ask questions regarding her father’s associates.
And though their worries stemmed from different motivations, she felt the sting of being unprepared to fit into the world they’d once occupied.
She glanced at the closed wardrobe doors. “Lucy, what advances did Stephen make toward you?” Had she made a mistake by not disclosing everything about Stephen and her father to her family? Her mother had known some of it, but Lucy knew nothing of what Stephen really was.
Lucy’s face grew cross once again. “Those letters were meant for me and me alone. And they’re all I have.”
Had her sister been in love with Stephen?
A nauseated feeling made her throat clench.
Stephen was nearly ten years Lucy’s senior.
How could Ginger have been so unaware? The fierce tug of sisterly protection gripped Ginger.
“Stephen is not the sort of man for you. Please trust me on this. I haven’t always shared as much as I should have, perhaps, but he would have only brought you harm.
Be glad those letters are all you have.”
“I’ll thank you not to lecture me on what sort of man is good for me. Not after you had that scandalous affair with Noah Benson. Everyone else may not know the truth, but I do. And then you ignore poor cousin William and won’t even consider his attentions.” Lucy’s words were defensive and biting.
Ginger lifted her chin sharply. “If cousin William suits you, then you’re free to encourage him yourself. You’re right, I made a fool out of myself for love once. I have no interest in being the object of William’s desires.” How could she convince Lucy to trust her about Stephen? And William?
“You think it hasn’t crossed my mind?” Lucy tugged her gloves off, then crossed the room to lay them on her vanity. “But I’m not the one who has caught his eye, am I? Speaking of which, he was inquiring if you could join us for dinner at Shepheard’s.”
Ginger regretted her own words. Lucy was only seventeen, after all.
She wouldn’t be eighteen for another two months.
And while other women married at such a young age, Lucy had never had the chance to experience life as a young woman outside of the war.
Encouraging her to marry William was hypocritical, especially when she’d learned the hard way what accepting the wrong marriage proposal could do.
“I would be happy to. But I’ll need a dress.
” Ginger offered a rueful smile. “Which is why I came in.”
“You should have just waited to ask.” Lucy sat at her vanity and unpinned her hair.
The hostility between them discouraged Ginger. She couldn’t seem to find any way to relate to Lucy. The gap in their ages had always made it difficult. Henry had been the sibling she’d been closest to while Lucy was the baby watching them from a distance.
Ginger sighed. She didn’t regret discovering the letters. She’d need to think of the best way to handle what she’d learned. But Lucy didn’t need another reason to resent her. Ginger came up behind her. “May I?” She lifted a pin.