Page 17 of Forgotten No More

He raised a brow. “That is presumptuous of you to say.”

“—be that as it may, you are in need of a wife, and my reasons for being in London could not be further from finding an acceptable mate.”

“And what is your reason for being in London, precisely?”

“You miss no opportunity to badger me. You are worse than the gossipmongers.”

“You wound me, Miss.” Harold held his hand over his heart. “If you find it in yourself to confide in me, I would not tell a soul your deepest secrets. You have my word.”

Ruby had spent far too much time out in the open. Her continued stay in London depended on her ability to outmaneuver her mother. Standing at the center of the grand ballroom was the epitome of foolishness. She looked about the room. The refreshment table stood in a secluded alcove not far from the terrace doors.

“I believe I would enjoy a cool glass of sherry,” she agreed. Then, she could extricate herself from the ballroom and seek refuge in the garden.

Harold, always the gentleman, held out his arm.

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and they made their way to the refreshment table. The track, which was the only way to describe it, was slow going as they fought their way through the hordes of people. While she didn’t want to admit it, Ruby felt comfortable with him. He led without overtaking her, something she attributed to their shared childhood.

“Lovely evening, is it not?” he asked.

“Undoubtedly so, sir.” She longed to question him about that afternoon. Had he read her papers? When she’d finally made it back to the room everything looked as it had when she’d left, but one could never be too certain. “The colors are divine, and Lord Spires’ daughter is exquisite.”

Harold laughed. “Exquisitely naive? Exquisitely annoying? Or exquisitely dull?”

“Possibly all three.” They had no place mocking their hosts’ daughter, she scolded herself. The pressure on London’s youth was overwhelming, as Ruby herself knew, and she’d never been made the center of attention.

“She’s been attached to Lord David most of the evening thus far,” Harold said. “If he isn’t careful, he’ll be forced to make an offer for her hand before midnight.”

She’d never understood the strict guidelines of the ton. If a woman danced more than twice with a gentleman in one evening they were practically betrothed. And heaven help the young man who danced with the same partner for two sets in a row. A midnight meeting in the girl’s father’s study would follow.

The advantages of being of a mature age and impoverished did not strike Ruby as such a terrible thing at the moment. No one expected her to dress to the height of fashion. She’d been able to move through the ton without anyone taking notice of her—except Harold, but he didn’t count. He was likely in the same category as herself. The third son of a country vicar with nary a shilling to his name would not be hounded by the marriage-minded mommas of the ton. No girl sought to incite a compromising incident with a non-titled gentleman, no matter how powerfully connected he was. That his dearest friend was an elite member of society meant naught.

She caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, stunned at the noble set of his chin. He was every inch the gentleman, even without the honor of a title.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked, catching her.

She quickly moved her line of sight to the refreshment table. “Not at all. I was only pondering our similar circumstances.” She knew the subject was a touchy one, but was at a loss for another suitable topic that did not include the weather.

“And what, pray tell, is our mutual circumstance?”

Ruby did not want to phrase things indelicately and insult him. “It is only that you and I are much the same. We—”

“…both have sterling personalities?” he cut in.

Startled at this comment, Ruby lost her train of thought. “Well…ummm…of course. I guess that is correct.” Perhaps discussing the weather wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

“We both are blessed with understanding and supportive friends.”

“Another true statement.”

“Let me see, we are both—”

“What I mean is that we are both untitled, on the fringes of society, and with not a shilling to our names. Many must think we leech off of Vi and Brock.”

“Most do not give us the time of day to notice we even exist.” He laughed. “And how do you know I am without funding?”

His laugh and continued banter put her at ease. It was difficult to find a person she could not only relate to, but with whom she could be completely honest. “You think a woman cannot tell the signs of a less-than-rich man? It is fairly obvious even to someone like myself, who is not searching.”

He eyed her as he waited for a servant to hand them refreshments. “Please instruct me on how I can appear more attractive to the fairer sex.”