Читать книгу The By Request Collection - Kate Hardy - Страница 76

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RUBY LOOKED AROUND the banqueting hall of Caversham Castle and tried to summon more than a token sense of pride and achievement. It looked fabulous, and she knew the sight would usually have prompted a victory dance or three around the room.

Actually it looked better than fabulous—she had worked flat-out the past two days, and all the work she had put in prior to Christmas had paid off. Medieval-style trestle tables fashioned from oak were arranged round the restaurant floor. The ceiling boasted an intricate mural depicting knights, princesses and acts of valour. The whole room seeped history, with maps of Cornwall through the ages and Cornish scenes from centuries ago adorning the walls.

Soon enough the room would be filled with the bustle of one hundred celebrity guests, the sound of troubadours and the scent of a genuine historic feast and Ruby knew the evening would be a success.

If only she cared.

She resisted the urge to put her head in her hands—of course she cared. This would be a career-tilting event—it would show the world that Ruby Hampton was the business. The restaurant at Caversham Castle would be launched in style, and she had little doubt that by the time they opened for normal custom in two weeks they would be booked up months in advance. Which was even better, because then she would be rushed off her feet.

Which would hopefully be the catalyst for the cessation of the stupid, mad feelings that swamped her every time she saw Ethan. The strange ache in her tummy when she wasn’t with him...the stranger ache in her heart when she was. It would almost be preferable to discover that it was an ulcer rather than what she suspected—she missed him. Missed the Ethan she had glimpsed for forty-eight precious hours.

Unfortunately that Ethan had vanished—had donned the cloak of professionalism and left the building. How did he do that? Maybe the same way she did. After all, hadn’t she been the epitome of a perfect restaurant manager? Could there be a possibility that he was hurting as she was?

But even if he was...what difference did it make? There could be no future. Her plan was to adopt and Ethan didn’t want a family. Ethan didn’t want anything.

In two days the ball would be over—it would be a new year and a new start. Ethan would waltz off to his usual business concerns and she would be able to get her head back together.

The back of her neck prickled and her whole body went to code red—a sure indicator that Ethan was in the vicinity.

‘It’s looking good,’ he said. ‘I need the final auction list, please. Rafael’s on his way and he wants to look at it en route.’

‘Sure. It’s good of him to be auctioneer.’

‘Yes.’

The terse edge of near indifference that veiled his tone made her foot itch with the urge to kick him even as she matched it. ‘I’ll email him the list straight away.’

‘Ruby?’

The sound of Cora Brookes’s even, well-modulated voice had her swivelling on her heel in relief. Cora, the new hotel administrator, had arrived two days before, and already Ruby was impressed by her smooth competence—though Cora had equally smoothly avoided all attempts at anything other than professional conversation.

‘I thought you should see this.’

‘What’s up? Don’t tell me the caterers have cancelled? Rafael Martinez has pulled out?’

For a second a faint look Ruby couldn’t interpret crossed Cora’s face. Then the redhead shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. Why would he? It’s great publicity for him... Plus it’s not often a playboy like him gets to feature in a celebrity magazine in a charitable light.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, here you are.’

Ruby accepted the netbook and looked down at a celebrity magazine’s website.

Breaking News!

Hugh Farlane engaged.

‘This time it’s the real thing,’ Hollywood star proclaims.

What?

Disbelief churned in her tummy. She’d barely given Hugh a thought in the past days. Apart from feeling a vague relief that he had obviously decided to stop offering her up as sacrificial goods to the press.

Mere weeks after his break-up with Ruby Hampton, now working within the Caversham Holiday Adventures empire, Hugh has announced his engagement to his long-term PA, Portia Brockman.

Portia? Beautiful, devoted to Hugh’s interests, she’d worked for him for years—the woman had to know him better than anyone else, so why on earth would she marry him? Surely it was another stunt. Or... She looked down at the image of Portia, who was gazing up adoringly at Hugh. Maybe a better question would be did Portia know it was a stunt?

Next query—what was Ruby going to do about it?

Which led on to another question: if she thrust a spoke in Hugh’s wheel what would he do? A flicker of fear ignited at the memory of his expression, taut with threat, as he’d ensured her silence.

It was a flicker she knew she had no choice but to ignore.

With a start she realised Ethan had removed the tablet from her grasp and was reading the article. A formidable frown slashed his brow as he handed it back to Cora.

‘I’ll have to go and sort this out,’ Ruby said briskly. ‘I’ll get a train up to London—I should be back late this evening. Cora, thanks for bringing this to my attention. Can I leave a few things for you to do while I’m gone?’

‘Of course.’

‘Great. I’ll catch you before I leave.’

Ruby nodded and turned, headed for the door.

‘Hold on.’ Ethan’s stepped into her path, his tone peremptory.

‘Yes?’ Slamming to a halt, she tried to sound cool, as if her proximity to his chest, delectably covered in a white T-shirt, wasn’t playing havoc with her respiratory system. Who wore T-shirts at the end of December, anyway?

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘That is not necessary.’

Cora glanced from one to the other. ‘Let me know what you need, Ruby. I’ll be in my office or you can call me.’

Once the redhead had glided away, with admirable discretion, and the door had clicked shut, Ruby glared at Ethan.

‘So not necessary,’ she amended.

‘I disagree—I told you I stand by my employees.’

All of a sudden a wave of pure white-hot anger flooded her—as if every molecule of built-up frustration from the past four days had all exploded into rage simultaneously.

‘So you’re going to hop on your charger and come and protect me because I am your employee?’

‘What is wrong with that?’

‘Everything. Everything is wrong with that.’ Had he forgotten Christmas? Had some sort of brain transplant? ‘Forget it. You have made it perfectly clear that you want our relationship to be professional.’

‘We agreed that once we got back here we would revert to being professional.’

There was no arguing with that—if he took it a step further he might even point out that it had been her fool idea in the first place.

‘You’re right. So since my business with Hugh is personal I will deal with it myself.’

There was no indication that he’d even heard her. ‘I don’t want you to face him alone.’

‘Why not? I’m sure I’ll have to face plenty on my own when I adopt. There will be social workers and carers and teachers and who knows what else? Will you be there when it gets tough then?’

‘That is hardly a valid argument.’

‘It is extremely valid from my side.’

The air was tinged with exasperation as he folded his arms. ‘That scenario is set in the future. This situation with Hugh is now. He’s threatened you in the past, the man is a liar and a bully, and I don’t see the problem with you accepting some support.’

Oh, crap!

As she stared at him, absorbed the frown that slashed his brow and the determined set of his mouth, drank in his sheer strength, the icy cold fingers of realisation dawned. Seeped into her soul. She knew exactly why this was a problem—she wanted Ethan to come with her. But she wanted his presence because he cared about her as person, not as an employee.

Panic squeezed her chest. She’d fallen for Ethan Caversham. Again. Or maybe she’d never got over him. This stubborn, generous, flawed man had called to something deep within her and her heart had responded without her permission.

She wanted him in her present and in her future.

Shock doused her veins, made her skin clammy. How had this happened? Ethan would never want a family. Would never change from being the workaholic, driven man he was. So why was her heart—the self-same heart that wasn’t supposed to be involved—aching with a deep, bitter sting?

His frown deepened as he studied her expression and she desperately tried to think—tried to work out what to do with this awful, awesome knowledge.

Nothing. That was what she should do.

Ethan had made it more than clear that he had negative desire for a relationship, let alone a family. It wasn’t his fault she’d been stupid enough to fall for him. If she told him how she felt he would recoil, and she wasn’t sure she could bear that. Let alone the fact that it would make any work relationship impossible.

Maybe that would be impossible anyway. Maybe her best course of action would be to leave. Otherwise she would have to spend her life erecting a façade of lies, playing a part, watching him from afar, living in hope that one day he’d return her love. The idea made her tummy churn in revolt. It would be a replay of her childhood.

‘Ruby?’ There was concern in his voice now, as well as an assessing look in his blue-grey eyes that indicated the whirring of his formidable brain.

With an effort she recalled their conversation. ‘Ethan, I need to do this by myself. Plus, tomorrow night is too important to blow—too important for kids like Tara and Max. You need to be here to supervise any last-minute glitches.’

He shook his head. ‘Cora can cover that. So can Rafael.’

Somehow she had to dissuade him—all she wanted to do now was run. Achieve some space. Get her head together. Enough that she could hold the façade together for a while longer until she could find him a replacement restaurant manager.

‘No. Cora and Rafael are great, but you need to be here. This is your show.’ For a heartbeat she felt the sudden scratch of tears—this would be one of the last times they were together, and emotion bubbled inside her. ‘You’re doing such good here.’

Instinct carried her forward, so close to him that she could smell the oh-so-familiar, oh-so-dizzying woodsy scent of him. One hand reached out and lay on his forearm as she gazed up at him, allowed herself one last touch.

‘Don’t.’ His voice low and guttural.

‘Don’t what? Tell the truth?’

He shook his head, stepped back so that her hand dropped to her side. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Don’t make me a hero. Because I’m not.’

‘I didn’t say you were a hero. But you are a good man, and you do so much good. Why won’t you acknowledge that and accept something good in your life.’

What was she doing? The sane course of action would be to get out of there at speed, but some small unfurling of hope kept her feet adhered to the floor.

‘Whatever you did in the past can’t change that.’

‘You don’t know about my past, Ruby.’

‘Then tell me.’

For a long moment he looked deep into her eyes, and for a second she feared that he could read her thoughts, her emotions, could see the love that she was so desperately trying to veil.

His gaze didn’t falter, though the clench of his jaw and the taut stance of his body betrayed his tension.

‘I told you that even before Tanya died I was beginning to go off the rails—I’d bunk off school every so often... I’d taken up smoking, graffitied the odd wall. But after she died I was so angry; I wanted vengeance on those bullies who’d made her last months on this earth a torment. But what could I do? I couldn’t take them all on myself—they were a group, part of one of the most intimidating gangs on the estate. Mum was falling apart, and I was full of frustration and rage.’

Her lungs constricted as she imagined how the teenaged Ethan must have felt. So helpless, so alone. With a mother prostrate with grief and the sister he’d looked up to driven to take her own life.

‘So it all went downhill. School became ancient history. I took up petty crime—shoplifting. I got into fights. I did dope... I drank. I swaggered around the estate like an idiot. I became everything Tanya would have abhorred.’

‘Tanya would have understood. You were a child full of anger, pain and grief. Didn’t your mum do anything?’

‘She was too immersed in grief to notice.’

There was no rancour to be heard, but it seemed to Ruby that everything he had done must have been in an effort to make his mum notice—step in, do something. She couldn’t bear the fact that he’d judged himself so harshly—that he couldn’t see the plethora of mitigation around his actions.

‘God knows what might have happened, but finally I got caught stealing from one of the high-street clothes stores. I went nuts—went up against the security officer. I lost it completely and they called in the cops. I was arrested, taken down to the police station, and they contacted my mother.’

‘What happened?’

‘As far as she was concerned it proved I’d morphed into my father. Reinforced her fear that history would repeat.’

‘But...but she must have seen that this was different?’

His silence was ample testament to the fact that she hadn’t, and the dark shadow in his eyes was further proof that neither had he. Foreboding rippled through her. ‘What did she do?’

‘Packed my stuff and handed me over to social services.’

Words failed her as anger and compassion intertwined—no wonder Ethan had judged himself as guilty when his own mother had disowned him.

‘Hey. Don’t look like that. For Mum the loss of Tanya was more than a tragedy—it was innately wrong. It should have been me.’

‘Did she say that?’

‘Yes.’

The syllable was spoken as if it was to be expected and Ruby’s heart tore.

‘I get that. She had a point.’

‘No, she did not!’ The words were a shout, but she couldn’t help it.

‘I let her down, Ruby. It is as simple as that. No one made me act that way.’

‘You were her son, Ethan—her child. You were acting out of your own grief and anger.’

Ruby clenched her fists. Why was he being so obdurate? But, of course, she knew the answer. Hope. Why had she persisted in believing in her own parents, long after they had proved they would never change? Same answer. Hope.

‘Have you seen your mum since?’

‘No. She is still on the estate, and every year I send her a cheque and a letter. Every year she doesn’t bank the cheque and she doesn’t answer the letter.’

The unfairness, the tragedy of it, banded her chest. ‘I understand that your mother had her own issues, but they were her issues. Would you ever do to a child what she did to you?’

Something flashed across his eyes and then he rubbed his hand down his face, made a derisive sound in his throat. ‘Jeez. Let’s end this conversation. Okay? I’ve come to terms with it all and it’s no—’

‘If you say it’s no big deal I’ll scream. It’s a huge deal. You told me to fight for justice, that right and wrong matter. This matters, and this is injustice. Ethan, you told me you thought I would be a good parent.’

‘You will be.’

‘Well, a social worker told me once that damaged children like me repeat their parents’ mistakes. I don’t believe that has to be true and neither do you. That’s why you want to help kids like Max and Tara—because you believe they deserve a chance. So do you.’ Ruby hauled in breath. ‘You have judged yourself and you’ve judged wrong. Whether your mum can see it or not, you’re a good man, Ethan Caversham.’

For a second she thought she’d made some sort of impact, but then his broad shoulders lifted.

‘Sure, Ruby. Whatever you want. I’m a good man.’

The self-mockery evident.

‘You are. And you deserve love. Real, proper love.’

It all seemed so clear to her now—exactly why Ethan had his heart under such a guard, his emotions in lockdown. The only person who had loved him was the sister he felt he had let down—a sister he had lost so tragically. The mother who should have loved him had condemned him from birth.

‘You do not have to be alone in that boat, Ethan. All family relationships do not have to end in tragedy. Love doesn’t always have to go wrong.’

Discomfort etched his face, was clear in his stance as he rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. ‘Leave it, Ruby.’

‘I can’t. You deserve love.’ How could she make him see that? ‘For what it’s worth, I love you.’

His face was leached of colour; blue-grey eyes burned with a light she couldn’t interpret. Eventually he stepped back.

‘It’s not love. It’s what you felt for Hugh, for Steve, for Gary. You said it yourself—you’re not a good judge of character.’

‘Ouch. That is below the belt.’

‘No, it isn’t. You don’t love me—you want to heal me because you see me as broken. And I don’t need to be healed. As for deserving love—that is irrelevant. I don’t want love; I don’t need love. I have come to terms with my past and I am moving forward. I’m not going to change. Any more than Gary, Steve or Hugh. So please don’t waste your time thinking you love me. Find someone who will be good for you and to you. Someone who will father your children, whichever way you choose to have them. That man isn’t me.’

The words were so final, so heavy, that she could feel her heart crack.

‘Then I’d best get to London.’

What else was there to say?