Chapter 29
Ruby managed to get through her explanation of the princess’s arrival at Pomeroy House and subsequent abduction without crumbling, weeping, or flinging herself at Archer and tearing his clothes off—all of which seemed roughly equal in terms of their likelihood.
When her father had started in on her list of flaws and failures, she’d felt more raw and exposed than she could ever remember feeling in her life.
It was worse—much worse—than the catastrophe with the drapes or her faux pas in Gravesmuir’s ballroom.
This time, it was not a roomful of strangers watching her, but her husband.
She had been afraid to look at him. She could not bear to see how he had taken her father’s words.
But when he had risen to his feet—when he had spoken up for her and trammeled her father into silence . . .
She’d felt undone. She had felt as though the world were a brilliant parti-colored kaleidoscope, whirling and then settling into a new shape she could not quite make sense of.
Though she had resolved not to care about her father’s opinions any longer, when he’d closed the door on their crew, she had been forced to confront the fact that some little, impossible-to-quash part of her had hoped for a reconciliation.
The same foolish corner of her heart that had placed the Royal Archaeological Journal by his plate.
The same part of her that, when she thought of her family, wanted to recall nothing but sunny mornings in Rome, rose-petal jam, and Cassandra’s small hand tucked into her own.
But when Archer had put her father back on his heels with swift, ruthless, and frankly arousing efficiency, she’d found that all those foolish dreams had fractured into shards. Had, when she was not attending, coalesced into something new.
He devastated her. Curled her toes and rent her heart to pieces. He had faced down her father and defended her like he meant to keep speaking until he ran out of breath. And then he had looked at her, all stubborn blue earnestness—as though she were worth every word.
He was a hero. And he was hers.
As quickly and succinctly as she could, she finished her story of the abduction and their thus-far-unsuccessful efforts to recover Tamsin and Princess Serafina. She described their search of Verdura’s empty ship and then bit her lip, hesitating on her next words.
She did not quite know how to speak to her father anymore.
But she thought of how Archer had faced him—how her father had quailed under Archer’s implacable authority—and she lifted her chin.
“I understand that you were skeptical of my association with the princess in the past,” she said.
“But the evidence is clear. I have with me the diamond collar we recovered from the Vulcano and a letter from Signor Neri. We have come to you because the princess is in danger, and because we believe that you can help us find her.”
She reached into her reticule to pull out the collar, but her father waved a hand in dismissal. He’d calmed as she’d told her story, and his expression had gone sharp, all calculating politician. “I don’t need to see it. I don’t doubt your tale, Ruby, wild as it seems.”
Ruby paused. She did not trust the hope that wanted to rise up inside her. Cautiously, she set her reticule back down in her lap and crossed her hands atop it. “So . . . you will help us?”
Her father leaned back in his chair. His eyes roamed Ruby’s face and then Archer’s. “Verdura is not in London. There is nothing to be done except to wait and see what happens.”
Ruby gritted her teeth. “I can’t believe that. You know the Duca di Verdura. You can find out where he is. You could use your connections to uncover his associates.”
“I could,” the earl allowed. “If I thought it wise.”
“What do you—”
“Ruby.” Her father’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward in his chair. “This is how it works, child. We don’t burst into situations unprepared, like a bull trampling a field. We exercise patience. We wait until we know for certain which way the die has been cast.”
Ruby felt Archer grow tense at her side, and she looked to him, trying to make sense of the ice that had chilled his expression. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, wait? The princess and Tamsin could be killed if we dally.”
“He means,” Archer said, very low, “that he already knew about Verdura.”
Her lips parted. She looked to her father. “What?”
“I did not know,” her father said coolly. “But when I received your outlandish letter, I suspected.”
He seemed blurry, suddenly. Everything felt muffled, her blood rushing in her ears. “You suspected . . .” She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “But you told me you did not believe my story. You told me to wait in Cornwall. You—”
“You are precipitate,” the earl said. “Naive. You plunge into situations without grasping their ramifications.”
“I don’t understand,” she got out.
But she did. Her perception of the past rearranged itself—slow and devastating.
When she had received her father’s letter in St. Petroc’s, she had supposed that he had merely underestimated her. She had thought that he was, once again, letting her down.
But he had not truly disbelieved her. All those words of criticism—all that terrible, wrenching betrayal—had been purposeful. He had meant to keep her quiet.
“Did you—work with Verdura?” It was difficult to get the words out past the thick constriction of her throat. “Did you plot with him?”
“Of course not.” Her father laid a hand on his desk, palm-up. “But I have heard rumor of the duke’s intrigues for years now. We must wait to see how this gambit plays out.”
“It’s not a game, Papa.” Her voice broke. “We can’t sit back and let the princess—let Tamsin—”
But her father cut her off. “Verdura is a powerful man, Ruby. If we cross him and he does take the throne in Monfalcone, our family will have made a dangerous enemy. It is far safer to bide our time.”
She looked at her father. The familiar arc of his cheekbones, the straight blade of his nose.
Safety, he preached. Restraint. But it was not concern for their family that motivated his actions.
It was wealth and influence he wanted: proximity to power.
She could see him clearly—the motivation that he tried to burnish over with delicate, politicking words.
If he allowed both sides to think him loyal, he could retain his position no matter who took control of the throne.
Her father let his voice drop, soft and suggestive.
He looked her in the eye. “Come home, Ruby. We can cover up your mésalliance. Find some way to undo it. If we allow Verdura to believe us an ally, who knows how we might be rewarded—not only me, but my family as well. We can find you a position at my side.”
There was a slow, brittle silence as Ruby held his gaze. As she considered his words.
Come home, Ruby.
My family.
At my side.
It was, she supposed, what she had always wanted.
She thought of delphiniums. Of years of devotion, of the patient, necessary work of hands.
There was no choice to make. She had already chosen. A thousand times, over and over, since the first time she’d seen Captain Malcolm Archer at Pomeroy House. She reached out and took her husband’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said to her father. “I’m very sorry that you have made this decision.”
“I have made no decision,” her father said. “I have simply chosen not to involve myself.”
But complicity was as much a decision as any other. She knew that. And so did her father. “We must go,” she said. “We will trouble you no longer.”
“Ruby,” her father said sharply. “Do not involve yourself further in this matter. I should think you’d know by now that your actions reflect back on me. Don’t forget whose name you bear.”
Her nose was burning, and her eyes, but her face was dry. “I shan’t forget.”
She did not think her father registered the import of her words. His face did not change as she rose. But Malcolm’s did. He gave her one glance—a flash of blue, almost stricken—and gripped her fingers tight as they made their way to the door. Her ring pressed hard against her bone.
She thought of the name she had been born to. And then—with a hot surge of pride and pleasure—a different name. The one she had chosen to take.
* * *
She took him out to the mews, where her father had told their crew to go.
In the stable’s dim interior, the familiar scent of hay and horses filled her nose.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, she picked out Gerry and Eugénie seated on a bench.
The Enys boys were arguing noisily, and one of her father’s grooms leaned against a wall.
And Alice stood very close beside—
Ruby blinked. Squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them again.
She said: “Cassandra?”
Her sister looked up. She was dressed neatly and fashionably in a silver-embroidered, high-collared riding habit. A tiny hat was perched atop her buttery hair, and her gloved hands were twisted together.
She looked like the daughter of an earl and the wife of a viscount, and still, somehow, she looked like Ruby’s baby sister.
“I went for her,” Alice said softly. “I told her everything. I hope you don’t mind, Ruby. I feared . . . your father . . .” She stumbled over the words. Tried again. “I suppose I thought we might need some help. And I thought—it was what Tam would do. If she were here.”
Ruby felt a painful rush of tenderness for Alice, who might well have been turned away at Cassandra’s door. Alice’s father’s reputation had blackened their family name so thoroughly that Alice could never be certain of her reception.
And yet she’d gone for help anyway.
Beside Alice, Cassandra took a step forward and searched Ruby’s face. “I came,” she said. “Lady Alice told me you might need me, and so I came.”
“Cass—” Ruby started to say, but her voice wobbled. She closed her mouth.
Her sister was linking and unlinking her fingers, a familiar little gesture that called up a lifetime of memories: Cassandra seated before the pianoforte; Cass at her court presentation, sick with nerves; Cassandra with the fledgling bird their father hadn’t let her keep.
She hadn’t protested when her father made her put the bird back outside. Ruby had, vigorously and vociferously, and when they’d been forced to set it back beneath the hedge anyway, Cass hadn’t cried either. Only blinked very hard and gripped her own hands for comfort, exactly as she was doing now.
“I want to help,” Cassandra said. “It’s—difficult. For me. To go against Papa. But I would do it if you needed me to. The truth is, Ruby, I’ve been trying very hard these last years to be more like you.”
She stood very straight, Cass did. Her shoulders made a perfect line, and her chin nearly topped Ruby’s head.
Ruby had to look up to meet her sister’s eyes, and somehow, she couldn’t remember when that had happened. “Me?”
“You,” Cassandra said. “You were always yourself. No one could dim your light, Ruby. Not even Papa.”
Ruby had the kaleidoscope feeling again—the sense of reality swirling and settling around her in new, fantastic shapes. She had left her father behind. She had forged a new path.
She had done that.
It wasn’t over. She still had Tamsin and the princess to find, a hundred impossible hurdles to cross. But she didn’t have to cross them alone. She had Malcolm and Alice, the Delphinium and all its crew. She had Cassandra, and her sister wanted to help.
“Please,” she said unevenly. “Yes. We need you, Cassie. We could use your aid.”
“Anything,” Cassandra said. “Tell me what I can do.”
Malcolm had his arm around Ruby’s shoulders, and he pressed his chin against her hair.
“Your father says Verdura has fled England. I think our next best bet is to get to Penney. Find out if he knows where Verdura has gone.” A muscle in his jaw flexed as he looked at his assembled crew—as he thought, Ruby suspected, of the absent Lamentation and the words Lamentation had hurled at him on the deck of the Delphinium.
But he steeled himself and turned his gaze back to Cassandra. “Rear Admiral Lord John Penney, I mean. Can you get me to his house?”
Cassandra regarded him steadily. “Of course,” she said. She raised her chin—looked, suddenly, like the viscountess she was. “Leave everything to me.”
Ruby looked up at Malcolm. He was holding her very tightly, his face grave and intent. But a shadow of his dimples emerged around his mouth as he met her eyes—an expression he meant to be reassuring, she knew, and that looked only halfway forced.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Penney will help us. We’re going to find them, Ruby. I promise.”