Page 74 of Forgotten No More

“This meeting is at its end,” Harold said. “I will not ask you again to leave, or I will be forced to assist you on your way.”

Harold wanted to laugh at the helpless look that crossed his father’s face before he turned on his heel and stalked out the front door.

A quiet clapping, which grew louder and louder behind him, accompanied the sound of the slamming door.

“Well done, Mr. Jakeston,” Brock’s butler chimed with a broad smile on his face. “I doubt that vile man will return—pardon my words.”

“I highly doubt it as well, but if he should show his face again, he is to be turned away immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the butler left the room, Harold focused on the woman awaiting him, hoping she hadn’t overheard every distasteful detail.

He stood straighter and walked to the door he’d left moments ago. He and Ruby obviously had much to discuss, the least of which being his own family drama.

Opening the door, she stood staring at him with tears in her eyes. “I am so sorry he said such ugly, untrue words to you,” he said, pained by the sorrow on her face.

“You can no more control your father and what he says than he can control you. You have nothing to apologize for. And I am the one who owes you an apology.”

Harold took the few steps to stand closer to her. She tilted her head back ever so slightly to look up into his eyes. “You owe me nothing,” he said. “It is I who owe you.”

“I cannot fathom what you could possibly owe me. I’ve treated you as I have treated everyone since my arrival in London, with half-truths and outright lies—I have been unable to trust a soul, when so many were willing to trust me. You put faith in me, not pressuring me for anything I was not ready to give.”

“Ruby—” He hesitated. If she knew the true reason he didn’t push her for answers—that he already had them—he was uncertain what her reaction might be.

“Please, let me finish. All this time I’ve searched for a place to belong, without realizing that along the way, I’d found exactly that. And with whom.”

With those words, Ruby moved into his embrace. An embrace he hadn’t offered—and didn’t deserve—but he pulled her close, nonetheless.

He didn’t say a word, only held Ruby in his arms. He’d sensed the moment he saw her that something was wrong. Her eyes were red with spent tears, the makeup she’d taken to wearing to cover her healing, greenish bruise washed away. A new weight laid across her shoulders. It was possible their meeting hadn’t gone well and Harold was prepared to confront Drake if the man had treated her harshly.

At the moment, he didn’t want explanations; he only wanted to hold her…for as long as it might last, before she pushed him away again. Five minutes or five hours, it mattered naught. The feel of her, the smell of her, the way her hair brushed against his cheek. He committed it all to memory, knowing when she walked away that he would have to let her go. When she again told him to go back to the vicarage, he would be ready to do just that. Though, that no longer appeared to be an option for him.

She would carry on here, or wherever she decided to make her home, and he would be forced to do the same. Wherever that might be, he knew it couldn’t include her. She’d made that clear many times, but he’d been too stubborn to hear her words, instead focusing on the flame he was sure existed between them.

But life was about more than physical attraction, one’s body yearning for another’s.

Too soon, she pulled back, her hands flat against his chest.

“I need to be honest with you, Harold.” She spoke softly.

He didn’t want to hear what she had to say, fearing it meant the end of their friendship. “You owe me no explanation.”

She took a step back, looking into his eyes. “Yes, I do. I have brought you into the mess that is my life. It is complicated and convoluted and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you more before—for fear of how you would react.”

“Nothing you could say would cause me to turn away from you.”

“I hope that is true.” Her eyes welled again with tears. Suddenly, he remembered a time long ago, almost forgotten. He’d watched from a near field as Ruby’s father—Sir St. Augustin—was carried in the back of a carriage to their family burial plot. She’d looked so lost and forlorn that he’d wanted to go to her, tell her everything would be fine. But they’d both been little more than children at the time. Neither knew what the future held, whether it was more grief or joy greater than either ever dreamed of.

She looked the same now—lost.

He took her face between his hands and kissed her gently. Her lips were soft and inviting. He forced himself to take a step back and listen before she changed her mind.

“I have been in London searching…” her voice trailed off. He waited, knowing she had more. Ruby shook her head as if to align her own wayward thoughts. “Angus was not my true father, although I am unsure if he knew that.” She paused again, trembling now, staunchly holding back her tears. “I found an old journal of my mother’s, detailing her infidelity.”

“Ruby, you needn’t—”

“Please, let me finish. You deserve the truth. My mother fell in love with a man…and I am the result of her affair.”