Hector was well aware that his interests and society’s expectations clashed over his sale of the Cornwall estate. The place had simply not suited him. “I made a tidy profit from the transaction,” Hector shot back with a satisfied smile. “And I made my sister happy in the bargain, since she lives there with Lord Clement even now.”
Vyne scowled. “They should be here.”
Hector shrugged. “Snow has never been my sister’s favorite weather.”
“Mine either,” Ruby admitted softly. “Gentlemen, I am afraid you will have to excuse me.”
“Of course.” Blackwood rose, and Hector did, too.
“Very well.” Vyne glanced at his pocket watch, nodded, but remained seated. “We will see you again at dinner tonight at seven o’clock, Niece. Wear something pretty to charm my guest.”
“Of course, Uncle,” she promised, and then directed a warm smile at Blackwood that Hector instantly coveted. “Until tonight, sir.”
She merely inclined her head to Hector then left the room.
When Ruby’s steps could no longer be heard, Hector sat again. Why had Ruby smiled so warmly at Blackwood?
When a servant brought spirits and started passing glasses around, Hector declined.
Lord Vyne smiled. “So, big changes afoot at Longlean.”
“Indeed.”
“You’ll want a wife soon, too, I imagine,” Vyne noted.
Hector straightened up in his chair, interested in seeing where this conversation would go next.
“Yes, people do say a wife will be necessary to bring Longlean back to life.” Blackwood looked at the doorway. “I had already determined to do just that.”
Blackwood didn’t look enthused about the idea of making a marriage though. But every man with a fortune needed someone to inherit—even Hector would need a wife one day. To Blackwood, he said, “It seems everyone my age is in a hurry to shackle themselves to a ball and chain.”
“Marriage is a means to an end,” he answered. “Don’t imagine living as a husband will change my nature very much.”
“I’m keen to hear how you will avoid it?”
“How isn’t important,” Blackwood said, shrugging off Hector’s question.
Vyne was nodding. “A match well made, connecting you to the right family, will ensure society opens its doors to you.”
Blackwood nodded.
Vyne learned forward. “I could be of assistance.”
Blackwood stared at Vyne. “Could you indeed?”
“Well, yes,” Vyne promised.
“I must say I am intrigued.”
Hector glanced down at his empty hands as Vyne gushed about his extensive list of acquaintances. The doors he could open for Blackwood. Hector did not like the sound of this alliance forming before his very eyes. Whoever Blackwood took as a wife would just be a means to an end for both men. Vyne’s insistence on helping likely served his own purpose, too.
Once Blackwood had been accepted into society, his poor wife would no doubt be cast aside to a country estate—to be visited only to get an heir and a spare. It happened all the time in society, he knew, but it was the first time Hector had ever watched such a scheme unfold so coldly. He felt…unclean just being in the same room with them.
Hector stood. “Well, gentlemen. I think I must leave you now. Brave the cold and stretch my legs outside. Until dinner.”
“Yes, dinner,” Blackwood murmured. “I look forward to it very much.”
Vyne said nothing.
Hector strolled from the room but he had no intention of freezing his balls off outside. He went directly upstairs, taking them two at a time, and stalked the halls until he found Ruby. She was in a bedchamber, a pretty evening gown laid out upon her bed. A dress meant to impress a suitor, and he wondered, too, if it was even hers. “What are you doing with that?”
“What? The dress?”
“Yes.”
“I’m to wear it for dinner, I suppose. My uncle sent it along with several others this morning.”
By the look of it the gown possessed a very low bodice meant to encourage a seduction. He recalled how Vyne had fawned all over Blackwood downstairs and felt sick. “You will not encourage that man’s attentions by wearing that dress to dinner. I forbid it.”
Ruby paused, and then moved toward him. She sighed as she looked up into his face. “I expected you to say something to that effect.”
Faced with such a calm response to his outburst, Hector made an effort to control his temper. “He’s not for you.”
“Then who is? You?”
Hector snorted and took a step back. “That’s not why I’m here.”
She winced. “I know. I’ve known all along your interest in me is only an amusement. You’ve made your wishes quite plain but so have I. The needs of my life are not amusing, and they are no one’s business but mine. I must marry to protect my son. Blackwood isn’t married and it’s plain to see he could deal with my father-in-law quite easily.”
“He doesn’t even know about Pip.”
“But he will and once we become better acquainted, he might want to be a father to my son and help us stay together.”
“Ruby let me—”
She patted his chest. “No, Hector. I do thank you for your company and your concern for our future. But please allow me to decide how best to protect my son.”
“Blackwood isn’t the man for you, or good enough to be a father to Pip. You’re making a grave mistake.”
She shook her head. “Please don’t ruin this opportunity for me, Hector. Blackwood might just turn out to be the man of my dreams.”
“Or your darkest nightmare,” Hector muttered under his breath.
Chapter Twelve
Samuel Blackwood was a hard man to draw into a conversation, but Ruby tried her best. She and her uncle were sitting in the conservatory surrounded by potted palms the next morning and struggling through a discussion on the latest scandals. The room was so well heated, Ruby could hardly stand it. She desperately wished for a fan with which to cool her face.
Of Hector, she’d seen no sign this morning. He’d taken her interest in Blackwood to heart and absented himself from socializing. That was a pity, for she was sure his presence might have helped lighten the mood in this room considerably.
“More tea, Uncle?”
“Yes, I think I will.” Lord Vyne held out his cup, his attention on her, and he nodded as she poured.
Ruby took that to mean he was pleased with her and with her attention to Blackwood so far. The only thing that rankled was Vyne’s insistence she could not introduce or mention her son to Blackwood still. It seemed a ridiculous restriction.
She passed her uncle his cup. “My lord.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
Uncle Vyne had begun speaking more sweetly to her as well since Blackwood had arrived and they’d been introduced. He made it seem like he was a benevolent, even affectionate relative. “Mr. Blackwood, would you care for a second cup?”
“No, thank you.”
Blackwood was strictly a one-cup-of-tea man and an impatient one. He often started tapping his foot when her uncle began droning on about their family.