Page 16 of Forgotten No More

But with Harold’s smarts also came the ability to discern when something was too good to be true—and this moment was reeking of just that. Harold would not ask Brock for financial assistance, but that didn’t mean Harold couldn’t invest a bit of his own coin in the venture. William didn’t need to know the money came straight from Harold’s pocket.

“I’m intrigued. What do you need from me?” Harold asked.

“Only a meeting with a man within the shipping trade, preferably someone who manages the incoming and outgoing ships at the dock.”

The request was actually quite simple, and much less than he’d expected. He and Brock had traveled to London before the season started to conduct a few business transactions. Brock had recently invested in several ships traveling to the New World with supplies, and had gladly introduced Harold to several men in the trade. Now, Brock stood to gain a hefty sum when the ships returned with goods not available in England.

“Am I correct in assuming this is a shipping venture?”

“Of the sort, yes.”

“I will see what I can do,” Harold said. “For now, do you have a suitable place to stay?”

“Please, do not let the clothes fool you. I’m not sleeping on the streets just yet.”

It wasn’t the clothes that led Harold to the conclusion that William was completely without funds, it was his appearance: the gaunt body and sunken cheeks, the dirt encrusted under his fingernails, his long, lank hair. But Harold knew better than to point these things out to William, who would only take offense. William had always been the most resourceful of the Jakeston boys, finding a place for them to stay on nights when their father’s temper had taken a particularly nasty turn.

“You know where I am if you have need of anything,” Harold said. “How shall I contact you?”

“For now, I have a room at the Carriage and Spirits House a few blocks over. If that changes, I will send word.”

They stood side by side, neither fully turning to address the other. It said much about their relationship that Harold didn’t have the time or the need to address, but he took the first step to rectify it all when he quickly hugged his brother again, pulling him tight. “It is good to see you, brother. I do hope we do not go long between visits again.”

William stood stiff in his embrace, neither wrapping his own arms around Harold nor leaning into him, which was acceptable. Harold did not imagine they could mend all their differences over one talk about a business transaction and the sharing of a single confidence.

“We will be in touch, I have no doubt.” William extricated himself. “I’m sure you have pressing matters to attend to, I’ll not keep you any longer.”

Harold thought the complete opposite. He should return to the townhouse, keep a close eye on Ruby, but instead he found himself inviting William to share a meal with him. When William politely declined, insisting he also had matters to attend to, they parted ways with the pledge to meet again within the fortnight.

Chapter 8

The room was stiflingly hot and the stale air settled heavily on her shoulders, making it difficult to breathe. Women dressed in exquisite gowns and overly accessorized hair pieces hung off the arms of every eligible man in attendance. The men appeared positively bored to the core, it being too early to retire to the card room for port and after-dinner cigars.

In true London style, chandeliers hung with glowing candles and fine-cut crystal from every ceiling. Their host had selected the ever-popular cream and blue hues for tonight’s festivities, introducing their youngest daughter to the ton. Arrangements of cream and baby blue roses adorned every available surface and yards of gossamer cloth draped the walls of the ballroom.

Ruby glanced at her evening gown, happy she’d borrowed Vi’s intricately beaded, soft sapphire-colored dress. It paired well with her deep brown hair and green eyes, or so Vi’s maid, Sarah, had insisted when she’d delivered it to Ruby’s room earlier. Besides which, Sarah lamented, Vi would be unable to wear the dress for long due to her expanding waistline.

Her mother despised her acceptance of Viola’s gifts. Part of Ruby wished she had the means to support herself, as well—but she knew the reason for her friend’s generosity, and it wasn’t charity or pity. They were both only children, never gifted with a sibling to dote upon. And up until recently, neither expected to marry nor have children, which drew them closer still.

Part of her envied Vi’s new life: the chance at a family, a home of her own, security as she grew older. Most of all, she coveted the security a husband would bring. No woman envied living off the generosity of a distant cousin.

The scent of sandalwood cut through her thoughts, and she recognized Harold’s presence before he spoke. “May I have this dance?”

The request sent a flood of warmth up her neck. It had been quite a while since she’d been asked to dance—if she’d ever truly been asked. “I fear my skills on the dance floor would embarrass us both, but thank you all the same,” she said as she turned.

Her next words stuck in her throat. He was dressed simply in cloth of the richest black, a blue handkerchief the only spot of color. She found it suspect that it matched the shade of her dress perfectly. His hair, short with a slight wave and newly trimmed, fell perfectly above his collar. Her fingers longed to run through his hair to his broad shoulders.

His eyes also traveled the length of her, his smile signaling his appreciation of the view. “Then perhaps a spot of sherry and a turn about the room?”

She’d planned to find the largest palm in the room and hide until Vi and Brock called her to depart. Currently, the pair swirled around the dance floor, Lord Haversham’s smile lighting the room while Vi laughed at something he’d just whispered in her ear. They were still the object of much gossip and odd looks after their public spectacle the season before, but they took the attention in stride.

“Cat got your tongue again?” he asked.

“Mr. Jakes—” she started.

“We agreed on Harold, did we not?”

“Of course,” Ruby said. “Harold, as I’ve said before, our continued acquaintance benefits neither you nor me. You are in search of a wife—”