Page 23 of Forgotten No More

Harold didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to jump at the chance to wipe his hands of the responsibilities he’d never wanted. He sat a little taller, the weight of expectation lifted from his shoulders, but with that came the daunting question of ‘what then?’ The vicarage had been a burden, but it had also provided security—the knowledge that some semblance of stability was in his future, just waiting for him to accept his role. Without it, he must forge his own path, find his own way in the world.

And that scared the hell out of him.

He wasn’t ready to give up his guaranteed livelihood.

Yet, his meeting with William brought new opportunities to light—a way of life not dominated by his father.

Brock took his silence to mean exactly what it did: Harold wasn’t ready to make any decision either way. “You only need say the word, Harold.”

“Thank you.” He was happy to know his way out remained open, even if he wasn’t prepared to take advantage of it just yet.

“Enough of this moping.” Brock stood. “The women are shopping for the afternoon, which means we are left to our own devices.”

“Oh, really?” Harold asked.

“Yes. Shall we see what kind of trouble we can stir up?”

“What do you have in mind?” Harold laughed, determined to forget his own troubles, at least for one afternoon.

“By trouble, I meant business,” Brock said. “I’m meeting with Lord Yorkton about the acquisition of a rather important broodmare and I thought you would like to join me.”

“Of course you did.” Harold enjoyed accompanying Brock to his many meetings about town. It helped hone his skill at negotiations and kept his mind working. And of course Brock never complained if Harold was able to gain what he wanted at a far better price. “How much do you wish to acquire the animal for?”

“Very astute question, my man. The price is not overly important to me, but the acquisition itself is. You see, the mare is a gift for Lady Haversham.”

“Ah, now I see.”

Brock nodded. “I suppose you do. I know how very much she misses her horses. While running a foal ranch is impossible with my obligations to Parliament, I’m sure she would enjoy having a mare here in town, possibly breeding her with Sage.”

There was only one thing Brock loved more than his stallion, Sage, and that was his wife. Her happiness came before all.

“That’s commendable of you. When shall we depart?”

“Lord Yorkton is expecting us shortly.”

The name registered with Harold. He’d been in the man’s study only nights before to escape the tediousness of the forced social engagement—and there had his first encounter with Ruby. Odd that Brock would have a meeting with one of the men on Ruby’s mysterious list. Maybe he should be concerned for Brock’s well-being where Ruby’s activities were concerned, as well.

“Then let us be off,” Harold said. “We wouldn’t want to keep the good lord waiting, I hear he has an awful temper.” The thought occurred to him that just possibly, he would be afforded a look into the man’s study, and could turn up whatever Ruby had been searching for.

Ruby walked beside Vi, their arms laden with packages, navigating their way to their waiting carriage. The shops were busy with women selecting the perfect fabric for a walking gown, or kid gloves for an evening out, or men selecting the perfect handkerchief to match their lady love’s newest acquisition. Because of the crowd, Vi had instructed her footman to wait by the carriage for their return. Hence their loaded arms and Ruby’s sore feet.

“Are you sure you feel up to carrying all those packages?” Ruby asked.

“I am with child—and not far along, I might add—not helpless. The exercise will do me good.”

Her dearest friend could shop like no other. Granted, they’d spent most of the morning purchasing shirts, skirts, and shoes for children at Foldger’s Foundling House, therefore Ruby’s aches and pains could be attributed to good deeds and not the spoiled, selfish antics of the wealthy elite, which pleased her immensely.

“After we drop these off, we must find suitable material for new bedclothes. The children will be quite excited if Sarah and the other maids make new covers for their beds.” The excitement in Vi’s voice was contagious.

Ruby laughed as she shifted the box she held to her other arm. “Oh, we can make lovely purple ones for the girls and green for the boys. You know how Abby adores purple. I can start on them right away.”

“Oh no, you do not, Ruby St. Augustin,” Vi scolded. “I will not give you another excuse as to why you cannot accompany me out in the evenings.”

Ruby knew her explanations were running thin, but she’d hoped to have a few more evenings free to continue her search. “I swear I do not know what you speak of.”

“You’re incorrigible!” Vi chuckled. “I bring you to London and you barely leave the townhouse. I had to drag you out this morning kicking and complaining.”

The only reason Ruby had accompanied Vi today was because she knew her mother’s penchant for sleeping late after an evening out, thus greatly reducing the risk they would run into Lady St. Augustin during their excursion. “How could I possibly pass up the opportunity to spend Lord Haversham’s money?” Ruby asked, deflecting the conversation.