She put the teapot down, having no interest in drowning in tea herself. After folding her hands in her lap, she looked to her uncle.
Vyne was watching Blackwood. “Have you had a chance to tour the manor, Mr. Blackwood?”
“Not as yet.”
Ruby did not blame the man. The Vynes’ public rooms seemed only a few degrees above freezing on most days.
“Mrs. Roper, if you would be so good as to give our guest a tour in my place.”
Although surprised by the unexpected request, Ruby inclined her head. “I’d be happy to.”
She knew little about the contents of the many rooms at The Vynes, but she supposed extolling the virtues of Lord Vyne’s home was not what her uncle had in mind. She had been instructed to woo Mr. Blackwood.
After dinner on the night she’d met Blackwood, her uncle had sent for her and explained the extent of his help. He owed Blackwood a debt that he believed her attentions to the man would fulfill. Marriage was the only outcome Ruby would insist upon. She would not be used for her body, pimped to Blackwood as a whore just to set the earl free. And in exchange for her involvement in her uncle’s scheme, she’d demanded he answer her questions—no matter how uncomfortable.
He’d said Lady Vyne and his children had humiliated him by leaving to live in Cornwall, and he also admitted that the strength of his legs had become unreliable—which was why she’d never seen him standing. And why he stayed in his rooms most of the time.
She felt sorry for him in a way, but he reminded her of Mr. Roper. He intended to use Ruby to have his way unless she stood up for herself.
Ruby stood, picked up the coat and scarf she’d discarded upon entering the conservatory and led the way out. As soon as she encountered the cold, she quickly slipped on her coat and wrapped her scarf about her neck, too.
Blackwood, absent a coat, rubbed his arms briskly. “Is it always so chilly here?”
“I believe so.”
She led Blackwood toward the heated drawing room, where there were a few portraits she recognized. She pointed at one. “My uncle and my father with their parents, in their youth.”
Blackwood squinted at all the faces in turn. He drew back, one brow raised. “People always appear so perfect in these sorts of things.”
Ruby almost laughed. The painting showed nothing of the reality of her father. “If I could afford to commission an artist to immortalize my family, I’d want to look my best, too.”
Blackwood studied the painting again, but this time only the artist’s signature scrawled across the bottom corner.
When he’d finished, he held out his hand, urging her to continue their stroll.
She took Blackwood through the dining room and then the long hall, noting that every fire in the house had been lit today. Vyne must have ordered it done, intending to seem a generous and considerate host to Blackwood.
The long hall held many grand paintings, but Ruby hardly knew one from the other. They walked in silence for the length of the hall.
When they stopped, it was at a far window. The view outside was white still, but the snow was no longer falling. If not for her bargain with her uncle, she and Pip might have gone exploring together today.
Blackwood turned to her. “Not much excitement out there.”
“The Vynes is a place of peace and tranquility.”
“I’d much rather the chaos of London,” Blackwood admitted.
“My family has a house in London, too.” A place she might never see again unless she married well and they invited her back into the fold.
“Mayfair is not the real London,” Blackwood warned. “I shouldn’t think you’d find it much to your liking.”
“Why is that?”
“London is unruly, disorder and chaos. Loud and unapologetic. It requires a certain degree of flexibility and dishonesty that I suspect you entirely lack.”
Ruby found his statement both pleased and angered her. How dare he assume to know her character on so brief an acquaintance? He didn’t know anything about her, really. Lord Vyne would hardly have told him the truth. She could enlighten Blackwood here and now but found she didn’t want to, no matter what she’d promised her uncle. “I guess I’ll never know until I see it for myself.”
She moved along the hall a ways, to a new window with a slightly different view. What was she to do about Blackwood and that promise to her uncle? Perhaps she should have taken up Hector’s offer of assistance the moment he’d spoken of it. They could have been halfway to Cornwall by now. She needed very little but safety, and a little warmth, too.
To her surprise, she saw him, Hector, trudging through the deep snow…with a small bundle thrown over his shoulder. When the bundle wriggled, kicking tiny legs and arms, she froze in surprise.
Hector had her son and was taking him off to the stables.
At the door, Hector set him down and straightened his clothing.
Pip looked up at Hector, clearly talking his head off, and Hector ruffled his hair before pushing open the door.
They disappeared, clearly off for another adventure without her.
She had not expected Hector to seek to entertain her son again today, or any day. Not after she’d made it plain she would not kiss Hector again. But Pip did love horses, and the stables were his favorite place in the world.
She found Hector’s interest in her son surprisingly pleasing.
Blackwood drew close. “Is something wrong, madam?”
“No. The view is just like all the rest. I am just a little chilled.”
“I am too.” He bowed to her. “Thank you for showing me more of the house. If you will excuse me, I should like to return to Lord Vyne and continue our earlier conversation.”
“But of course. Thank you, Mr. Blackwood, for your company. It has been a pleasure to become better acquainted with you.”
As soon as he left, Ruby hurried for a rear door, looking for a well-trod path to take her to the stables. It wasn’t hard to find the path Hector must have taken. His footprints were deep, though, and she quickly understood why Hector might have thrown Pip upon his shoulder.
She carefully picked her way through the snow, using Hector’s footprints to spare herself the worst of the cold and damp. But by the time she reached the stables, her toes were cold and her stockings were wet.
She pushed the heavy door open and instantly saw Hector leaning against a stall not far away. He looked over his shoulder, and then snatched up a blanket before hurrying to her. “What are you doing coming out in this weather?”
“I saw you and Pip coming here.”
“He’s playing.”
She didn’t see Pip. “Where?”
Hector wrapped her in the blanket and, with one arm around her back, propelled her to the stall he’d just left.
Pip was inside, marching around the stall with another, larger boy. They were stomping down the hay beneath their feet and laughing their heads off. Pip’s cheeks were pink already, and he was smiling. The other boy was just the same.
Ruby drew back but was worried. “If my uncle saw him doing that, he might not approve.”
“It’s harmless play. And the straw is clean, intended only to thicken the mattresses of the stable hands. They just hadn’t gotten around to using it yet and don’t mind. Young Allan there does this all the time, I’m told.”