The Wife Campaign. Regina Scott
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me when I say that this house party was not my idea. Someone arranged it with the best of intentions, and I will honor those intentions to the extent I can.”
He was obviously shielding someone. Who would be so audacious as to sign an earl’s name to an invitation that could cause him to choose a bride? A parent came immediately to mind. Certainly her father would not be above such an action. Look at the way he’d manipulated her into coming to Derbyshire!
But Lord Danning had said he was an orphan. The only relative at the house party was Charles Calder. Had he arranged this? After conversing with him, she was even more certain they’d never met, despite her father’s remark. Now Ruby shook her head. Always it came back to her father. Very likely he’d encouraged Charles Calder to invite her. She could hear him now.
She’s a great girl, my daughter. You put in a good word with his lordship, and I’ll give you an excellent price on this diamond. She shuddered.
“Forgive me for keeping you, Miss Hollingsford,” the earl said, clearly thinking she’d shivered from the cool air. “I merely wanted you to know that I appreciate your presence here, and I’ll do all I can to make your time in Derbyshire enjoyable. Establishing a friendship with you and your father might be the best thing that could come of all this.”
A friendship with an earl? Surely such a thing was impossible. Oh, he seemed kind and considerate, his lean body relaxed as he stood there, rimmed in gold. By the tilt of his head, she thought those purple-blue eyes were watching her with kind regard. She steeled herself against them. She’d had warmer looks trained her way, and they’d promised lies. A shame the angler she’d met by the river this afternoon had turned out to be an aristocrat.
“Thank you for the explanation, my lord,” she said, pushing off the pillar and lifting her skirts to start for the door. “We should return to your other guests.”
He did not argue but merely opened the door for her and bowed her in ahead of him.
She thought she might be greeted by a fresh barrage of insults, but the other guests did not seem overly distressed by her and Lord Danning’s absence. Her father, Lady Wesworth and the Stokely-Trent parents had begun playing whist at a table brought in for the purpose, further crowding the withdrawing room. Mr. Calder was seated on the sofa between the other two ladies, and by the blush on Lady Amelia’s fair cheek and the smile on Henrietta Stokely-Trent’s pretty face, he was at least holding his own.
“You have a choice, Miss Hollingsford,” Lord Danning murmured beside her as they paused by the doorway. “Would you prefer to make the fourth in another game of whist, or would you like an excuse to escape?”
Ruby glanced up at him. His look held no censure. He truly was giving her the option to leave all these people behind. The very thought sent such relief through her that she knew her answer.
“You play whist,” she said. “I’ll run. And thank you.”
No one said a word as she slipped from the room.
The air in the corridor was still perfumed with the lingering scent of roast duck as she took the stairs to her room. Peace, blessed peace. No one to impress, no one to start an argument or berate her for simply being born without a silver spoon in her mouth. She filled her lungs and smiled.
And nearly collided with another man at the top of the stairs.
He caught her arms to steady her, then stepped back and lowered his gaze. He was not as tall as Lord Danning, and more slightly built, with hair like the straw that cushioned her father’s larger shipments and movements as quick as a bird’s. His dark jacket and trousers were of the finest material, the best cut. She couldn’t help the feeling that she’d met him before.
“Forgive me, sir,” she said. “I didn’t realize Lord Danning had another guest.”
Keeping his gaze on her slippers, he inclined his head. “I’m no guest, Miss Hollingsford. I’m Quimby, his lordship’s valet. I do hope you enjoy your time at Fern Lodge. I’m certain if you look about, you’ll find something of interest.” With a nod that didn’t raise his gaze to hers, he turned and hurried toward the front bedchamber, shutting the door with a very final click.
Odd fellow. She couldn’t recall meeting a valet before, unless she counted the manservant who assisted her father. But somehow she wouldn’t have thought them quite so subservient. Was Lord Danning such a harsh master? Perhaps she should do as Mr. Quimby suggested and keep her eyes open.
Unfortunately, it was her ears that troubled her that night.
The room she had been given was lovely to look upon, plastered in white with a cream carpet on the dark wood floor and golden hangings on the bed. A shame the designer had not taken similar care in the soundness of the structure. Ruby had just settled beneath the thick covers when she heard voices coming through the wall. Lady Amelia and her mother were evidently situated next door, and by the sound of it, Lady Wesworth was much put out about the fact.
“I have never slept two in a bed in my life,” she complained, so ringingly that the gilt-edged porcelain rattled in the walnut wash stand against Ruby’s wall. “Why can’t one of the others share?”
Lady Amelia must have answered, because there was silence for a moment before Lady Wesworth continued. “And why is she here at all? You cannot tell me Danning covets her fortune. With his seat in Suffolk and the leasehold here in Derby, he has quite enough to suffice.”
Interesting. At least she could cross fortune hunter off the list of potential concerns about Lord Danning. If she had been willing to consider him as a husband, of course.
“Well, I suppose she is pretty,” Lady Wesworth acknowledged to something her daughter had said, “but I doubt she came by that magnificent red naturally.”
Oh! Small wonder the minister preached against listening to gossip. She fingered a strand of her red hair, knowing that she came by it quite naturally.
“Oh, cease your sniveling, young lady,” Lady Wesworth scolded her daughter. “You can still have him. You must exert yourself tomorrow. Find ways to be close to him, and don’t let that Hollingsford chit get in your way.”
That Hollingsford chit reached for one of the feather pillows, thinking to block her ears before she heard any more.
“And he had the affront to advise me to be civil to her. Me! As if I needed to be reminded how to go about in polite society!”
Ruby paused in the act of covering her head. So Lord Danning had kept his promise and spoken to Lady Wesworth about her. His advice didn’t seem to have been taken to heart, but at least he’d tried. Remembering her own manners, she stuffed the pillow over her head and attempted to get some sleep.
In the morning, Ruby was swift to finish dressing in a green striped walking dress and disappear downstairs before she heard another word from her neighbors. She truly felt for Lady Amelia to live with such a termagant.
Ruby’s mother had died when Ruby was a child; she didn’t remember a great deal about her. She’d seen to her own needs until she’d gone to school, where a maid had been provided for her. Since graduating, she’d hired a maid in London, an older woman with an eye for fashion who sadly seemed to care more fervently for Ruby’s wardrobe than her well-being. So she’d never had a woman to fulfill what she’d always thought to be a mother’s role—fussing over her, encouraging her to reach her dreams. Somehow she’d always imagined such a person would be more uplifting than censorious.
If the other guests had heard anything of Lady Wesworth’s complaints, they did not show it. Ruby passed Mr. and Mrs. Stokely-Trent in the corridor, and both nodded civilly to her, making her wonder whether Lord Danning had spoken to them, as well. Charles Calder called to her from the withdrawing room, raising a silver teapot to indicate he had sustenance ready should she wish it. Very likely she’d need it; she could barely make out the lawn beyond the veranda it was raining so hard. But she had no wish to encourage him, so she waved him good-morning and hurried on.
She