Page 88 of Forgotten No More

“Let us remember Andrew Penton, the Marquis of Drake, as a man of stature. A man of strong opinion always willing to play a hand of cards with friends,” Harold said in closing.

She respected his ability to speak of her father, selecting the right words to honor Drake, without claiming he was a man he wasn’t.

“Would anyone like to say a word before we adjourn?” He scanned the small gathering.

Ruby glanced down at Ellie next to her, hoping to encourage her to say a few words, but her eyes were fastened on the ground. Ruby knew pushing her forward would only mean pushing her away.

Looking back at Harold to signal him to move on, she noticed that he stared over her shoulder and into the far reaches of the garden. She turned to see a cloaked woman, her quiet sobs barely reaching Ruby.

Her cloak was fashioned in the latest style, made from heavy, expensive wool. Her head hung slightly as she cried into a small handkerchief, unaware she was being watched by not only Ruby, but Ellie as well.

The wind picked up, flinging the woman’s hood off her head to reveal a mane of black hair, startlingly familiar to Ruby.

Ruby stalked into the study—the same room Ellie had brought her and Harold the night Ellie had enacted her blackmail plan.

Her hands shook, she was so enraged. Despite the cold outside, her blood boiled and her skin flushed. If she weren’t the proper lady she knew herself to be, she’d likely have uttered every cross word she knew.

“Shut the door,” she shouted without turning. She was not one to cause a scene—in fact, she’d seen firsthand the repercussions of causing a scene last season. And she had no intention of causing the stir that Vi and Lord Haversham had. “Sit.”

The days of living in the dark, of allowing others to treat her unjustly for fear of making someone unhappy with her were over. If there was one thing she was beginning to learn, it was that life was fleeting and one should not let what they wanted pass them by.

Ruby became uneasy, for Pearl St. Augustin had never been so quiet, so passive. When she turned, her mother sat primly upon the settee while Harold and Ellie stood by the closed door.

“I instructed my mother to follow me, not the pair of you.” Some things a person needed to face alone—and it was past time she confronted her mother. Any witness, no matter their association, was unwelcome.

Ruby felt her emotions threatening to overwhelm her already. The last thing she wanted was Harold, or Ellie, to witness her breakdown. She needed to be strong and in control, especially for Ellie. Their level of trust was growing every day; how could her sister depend on Ruby if she saw her falling apart?

When both stayed rooted, neither reaching for the door, she said, “Suit yourselves, but do not say a word.”

Harold and Ellie nodded in agreement, and she knew neither would betray the truths spoken within these walls.

“I too would prefer they leave,” her mother uttered. “I am uncomfortable with persons not of my family hearing this matter. It is of a private nature.”

“Your preferences mean naught to me,” Ruby countered harshly. Guilt reared inside her at the severity of her words, yet her mother deserved them—and many more. “Lady Ellington is my family, therefore whatever is said here most certainly involves her. And Harold—Mr. Jakeston—is a trusted friend.” The pair smiled at Ruby encouragingly.

She took a calming breath before continuing. “I am at a loss for where to begin, Mother. Your lies and infidelity know no bounds.”

Her mother smirked. “It appears the apple does not fall far from the tree. When did you arrive in town?”

Ruby knew that smirk well. “Based on the look on your face, I expect you already know the answer to that.” Their conversation would go nowhere if they both skirted the issue at hand. “Enough. Why are you here?”

“My dear, I am in London every season. The real question is, why you are here? The season most assuredly does not suit one of your character.”

“My character?” Ruby fought to remain focused and not let her mother’s wordplay anger her overly. “Why are you here, Mother? In the marquis’ garden…attending a private moment in his honor?” Her mother and true father were anything but honorable, and she couldn’t bring herself to glance at Ellie. After years of abuse—mistreatment Ruby hadn’t the stomach to fully explore yet—her sister would also agree their father lacked honor. And integrity. And possibly any sense at all.

For a second, Ruby saw the sorrow in her mother’s eyes, but it was replaced quickly with a hard stare. “I am sure you have figured out why I am here—and it is the same reason you are.”

“I need to hear you say it—I need to understand how you could betray my father. I heard stories growing up about the great love between Sir St. Augustin and his beloved Pearl—how you eloped to Gretna Green and married without anyone the wiser. How servants caught you in delicate situations over the years, locked in a passionate embrace or simply gazing into one another’s eyes. How did that sour?”

When her mother remained silent, Ruby asked the one question that eclipsed all the others. “Why?”

Pearl’s smug look disappeared with her reply. “For you, of course.”

“For me?” Ruby became more confused with each word her mother uttered, every falsehood and half-truth. “Nothing you have ever done since my birth has been for me.”

A sad smile settled on her face. “No, but everything I did before that was for you—to bring you into this world at all.”

Ruby wished they were alone, without witnesses to see the tears that threaded their way down her face, to her neck and into the collar of her mourning dress. The implications of her mother’s words stabbed deep.