Page 60 of Forgotten No More

And Ellie had been raised with all of this. At least, that was what Ruby assumed. It explained a lot about her selfishness and entitled attitude. Ellie was used to getting what she wanted, even if what she wanted was in direct opposition to what was best for her. It was clear she’d had little guidance thus far in her life. She appeared well-educated, yet unruly to the extreme.

The girl had yet to share a morsel of information about herself. She was only vocal on one thing: the marquis was not her father—and her mother was dead, according to Marce. Who did she belong to and how had she ended up with him? Maybe she was the daughter of a family friend or another relative. The more time Ruby thought about Ellie, the more unanswered questions she had. She spoke like a lady, but picked pockets like a street urchin; not to mention her association with Marce and Craven House. There were so many details that didn’t make sense about the girl.

Which wasn’t so different from everything else in Ruby’s life at the moment. The questions surrounding her father, her mother, their deception, and her true identity continued to grow. Part of her had actually enjoyed the time she’d spent with Ellie—the pickpocketing not withstanding—because she hadn’t thought about her problems for that brief afternoon. Ruby hadn’t eyed every man on the street wondering if he was the one. She hadn’t been on the lookout for familiar street names, knowing a potential father lived close. It had been one of her most carefree moments since she’d arrived in town.

While musing about her current situation, she’d walked further into the marquis’ home, admiring family portraits that lined a long hall. The regality of each painting stunned her. The artist had an uncanny ability to capture the aloof and elite aura given off by members of the highest circles of society. An exclusive group of people that Ruby would never be a part of—and never wished to. There were many social climbers orbiting around the ton, always looking to be associated with a lord or lady of high status or seeking a match far above their own station.

A door slammed, as if hitting a wall when thrown open, somewhere in the house. Angry, muffled voices filled the once-quiet house.

Ruby moved back toward the foyer to better hear the commotion and—if she was being honest—closer to an escape if the necessity arose.

“…you insufferable, horrid…”

The words drifted down the main stairs to the foyer, the rest of the statement beyond comprehension.

“I may be insufferable, but at least I am not a spoiled, entitled, selfish child,” a male voice boomed. “I should have left you upon my stoop to perish in the cold.”

Ellie’s high voice followed. “I wish you would have. It would have put us both out of our misery!”

“My misery started long before you, little girl, and would not have ended with your death.”

Ruby gasped at the harsh, cruel words being thrown about. The male voice could only belong to Drake.

“The only thing that I will enjoy more than watching you live in misery every day is watching you die…without benefit of a male heir.” Ellie’s unpleasant laughed filled the foyer and a chill ran down Ruby’s spine. “You will die alone, just as you were when I came to you.”

“Do not forget, with my death will also come the end of your gilded lifestyle.” It was Drake’s turn to chuckle. “Gone will be the pretty dresses, the maids, the pin money, and dare I say, everything you’ve taken from me without so much as a thank you. It is likely you will starve upon the street.”

The words were so clear now, as if the two argued only feet from her.

“I have wanted to leave, begged you to let me go, for years.”

“Oh, but I would never allow you that.”

“No, instead you sought to keep me locked up here—your personal whipping post. Why?” The question held all the hurt and pain of a life lived on another’s terms.

“I owe you nothing. Nor do I justify my actions to anyone.”

The chandelier shuddered above her and Ruby stepped closer to the door to avoid injury if it fell, even though she felt herself compelled toward the stairs—to put an end to the verbal abuse on the floor above her. No person deserved the spiteful comments hurled at them, no matter if they were a full grown man or a child.

Loud footsteps echoed.

“Where are you going? I did not dismiss you!”

“I have plans and they do not include standing by while you insult me.” Gone was the pain in Ellie’s words, her confidence returned.

“I am not done speaking with you.”

“Well, I am sorry. Feel free to shout at the empty room. Or maybe I can send in a servant to stand in my place.” Her cocky demeanor restored, Ruby wanted to cheer Ellie on for standing up for herself, for flaunting the rules of the ton. “Either would give you the same result.”

“Are you running off to spend more time with that other bastard?” he asked.

“Don’t you speak of her in that manner.” Ellington must have paused in the hall, throwing the words back at Drake.

Ruby wondered who Ellie’s other friend was. She could only hope the ‘other bastard’ was a good, solid influence on the girl, yet dread had already started to settle upon her.

“I will talk of her in any manner I deem fit. She is nothing, born of a harlot,” his words had also lost a bit of force. “Just as you.”

“You do not know her. She is a good person.”