Page 3 of Forgotten No More
She finally looked at him. “When have you seen Vi?”
“Every morning, the noon-time repast.” He paused to take a large swallow from his glass. “And then on the carriage ride here. I am staying at the Haversham townhouse after all, being a poor vicar-to-be.”
Everything about the woman was suspicious, from her muddled search to her anxious attitude. If the light was exactly right, he could most likely see her skin glow with perspiration.
Her back stiffened. “But I have not…” Her words trailed off. “Mr. Jakeston, I can—”
“Please, it’s not as if we don’t know each other. It’s just Harold.” He chuckled at her obvious discomfort. “Mr. Jakeston, or rather Vicar Jakeston, is my father—or either of my older brothers.”
She nodded but remained silent, her fingers clasped tightly in her lap as she wrung the folds of her gown.
“May I ask you a question, Ruby? It is agreeable that I also drop formalities?”
“Of course.”
He eyed her suspiciously. He remembered her as a boisterous child, precocious to the extreme. Their short acquaintance the year before had also shown Ruby to be articulate, jovial, and open. “What were you doing rummaging through Lord Yorkton’s desk?”
Her expression remained devoid of all emotion, betraying nothing.
“Do you prefer I guess? I’ve always prided myself on my reasoning abilities.” He tapped his fingers against the glass in his hand. “Let me think… What could a lady of the ton possibly be doing ransacking—”
“I most certainly was not ransacking Lord Yorkton’s study,” she exclaimed.
“Well, well, well, the lady can speak after all,” he chuckled. “Allow me to rephrase my comment. What could a lady of the ton possibly be doing gently searching—is that better?—through the personal desk of a lord, while acting as a guest in his home?” He smiled and raised a brow in her direction, hoping she’d offer some bit of insight.
True to form, she held her tongue.
“Oh, I have it!” He pointed his finger skyward. “You are strapped for funds and are looking to borrow a bit from our kind host. Maybe a bauble or such that not a soul would miss.”
“I would never—”
“No? Let me try again. You recently ended a tryst with our generous host and forgot a trinket in his study.” Perhaps his outlandish insinuations could pry some truth from her.
“Now, that is just ludicrous!”
“But not as farfetched as most would assume,” he said. “But again, I must be wrong. Possibly does it have something to do with your mother?”
Ruby fully turned his way and reached for his hand, a concerned expression upon her face. “Please tell me you aren’t acquainted with my mother. She mustn’t know what you saw this evening.” Clearly believing she’d said too much, she fell back against the brocade chair in silence.
Harold refilled his glass from the bottle on the table next to him. “Are you sure you do not want any?” he asked without looking at her.
Silence greeted his question.
He was curious, yet feared spooking her before he ascertained her true motive for rifling through Lord Yorkton’s things. He shuddered at the consequences if she’d been found by anyone other than himself—not only the potential harm she’d have faced, but also the tarnish that would transfer to Lady Haversham due to their friendship.
“Miss Ruby, exactly how are you acquainted with Lord Yorkton?”
Her response was low, barely audible—like the whispering of lovers in the night. “I saw him two evenings ago, and again tonight when I arrived.”
“And do you know anything about the man?” he prodded.
“Not overly much.”
“He is not a kind, nor a forgiving man.”
“I did not plan to further our acquaintance this night.”
“This night?” Her answers only piqued his interest and unease. The evening was turning more intriguing by the second, a nice reprieve from the pressures of his own dilemmas.
