Page 14 of The Gods Time Forgot
Fourteen
The breakfast room was the last place she wanted to visit at nine o’clock in the morning, considering she’d fallen asleep only a few hours ago.
“If you’re not downstairs in two minutes, Flossie will be up looking for you,” Mara said, looking tired. It was the first time Rua had noticed bags under her eyes. She wondered if Mara’s lack of sleep had to do with Flossie or her own late-night excursion.
She hadn’t had the chance to catch up with Mara after Finn interrupted them.
“She’s never joined me for breakfast before.” Rua let out a yawn as she rose from her vanity. Just another way the Lord of Donore’s presence was inconveniencing her. The first being that she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
“Where were you last night?” Rua asked as she walked into the empty hallway.
“What do you mean? I was here.” Mara shut the door behind them.
“No, while we were at the Randalls’, you went somewhere.”
“I was running errands,” she said.
“What kind of errands require you to be out until after midnight?”
“The important kind.”
“You’re being coy,” Rua said. “Did you go to the hellmouth?” Now that Rua knew Mara had conspired with the Morr í gan to send Emma in, she didn’t trust that she wasn’t still up to something now.
Mara shushed her, stopping at the top of the staircase. “You need to keep your voice down.”
“Is that where you went?” Rua asked, lowering her voice.
Mara nodded, and they continued down, noting the lovely smell of bacon as they descended.
“I want you to take me with you next time,” Rua said.
Mara shook her head. “No.”
“Why not? If it can help me get my memories back, then I want to try.”
“You can’t just go there and get your memories back. There has to be purpose, careful planning, and a Sabbat. Samhain is the next one.”
“At the end of October?” Rua had seen the date in Emma’s journal. She couldn’t wait until October; that was still almost two months away.
“Everything will work out the way it is supposed to. The Morr í gan took your memories for a reason. When you are meant to have them, they will return. You cannot force it.”
Like hell she couldn’t. But she had to tread carefully and figure out a way to bring up what she’d read in Mara’s diary without letting her know she’d read it. Besides, she needed to worry about handling both Finn and Flossie at breakfast.
Flossie’s matchmaking schemes were tiresome, and Finn was the last person she wanted to be matched up with. Broad shoulders and a strong jaw would never be enough to compensate for his arrogance.
I’m not interested in the Harrington girl. Finn’s words still ate at her.
“Any word on the hotel fire?” Rua asked, through her chagrin.
They kept a leisurely pace as they walked through the marbled foyer toward the breakfast room.
“They managed to contain the blaze, but the hotel is beyond repair,” Mara said. “I heard the Lord of Donore ran straight into the flames and rescued a woman.”
“Ran into the flames?” Rua looked at Mara.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Suspiciously heroic, wouldn’t you say?” Rua thought back to the way he’d entered the library like a virile beast in need of taming. She’d almost let herself entertain the idea. He was different in his unkemptness, lacking his usual pretension, but then he’d opened his mouth.
“What do you mean?” Mara asked.
“How many members of the upper class do you know running into burning buildings or doing anything at all that might prove to be an inconvenience?”
“Well, it’s in the morning papers.”
“So it must be true,” Rua quipped.
Mara shook her head. “They said he lifted a wooden beam the size of a tree trunk off her leg without any assistance at all.”
“I doubt that. Something is not quite adding up.”
“Because he antagonizes you is not reason enough to question his character. You of all people should understand that.”
Rua let out a huff.
Mrs. Smith emerged from the breakfast room in a flurry, barking orders at Mara before they’d even entered. “All is in order for his lordship. Keep an eye on her.” She glared at Rua.
“Excuse me?” Rua was taken aback, but Mrs. Smith was already gone.
Rua entered the breakfast room and was surprised to find she was the only one there.
“Where is everyone?” she asked as she took a seat, annoyed that she was the first to arrive to a meal she did not want to attend.
“I’ll find out,” Mara said.
Rua’s stomach growled as she examined the contents of the table. It was the most luxurious breakfast spread she’d ever seen from the Harringtons’.
There were baskets filled with apples, pears, plums, and peaches. Multiple plates of berries, sliced bananas, watermelon, and sugared pineapple. Silver platters with bacon and another with scrambled eggs, though there were also egg cups offering the option of hard-boiled eggs. French toast with maple syrup and cinnamon. Hot cakes and waffles.
Most days she was only offered berries and oatmeal. Maybe the lord’s presence had some perks after all. She helped herself.
A few minutes later, Mara returned.
“The Lord of Donore had previously agreed to morning tea at the Fitzgeralds’. Apparently, you just missed him.”
“That’s too bad,” she said, dropping a sugar cube in her teacup.
She didn’t know why it bothered her. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Breakfast alone, as usual. And if Finn lacked the necessary intellect to avoid the nasty brat and her surly mother, then so be it.
“Your mother is quite peeved. I would advise avoiding her if possible,” Mara said.
Speaking of surly mothers , Rua thought, stirring the milk. “How is this my fault?”
“Well, she thinks if you’d come downstairs sooner, then he might not have left.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Rua reached for a strawberry, then remembered Emma didn’t like them. She opted for a waffle instead. “My presence would not have altered his plans.”
“Your mother believes otherwise,” Mara said, watching her.
“Flossie believes the moon and the stars were placed in the sky so that she might have something to look at.”
“Flossie sounds quite the nitwit.”
Rua almost agreed aloud until she realized who had spoken. Flossie was hovering in the doorway. Mara’s cheeks went scarlet before she fled the room through the servants’ door.
“I—”
“Save it,” Flossie hissed, sauntering into the room. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
Rua shrugged. “I’m not sure what I could have done to prevent this.”
“Shrugging is a despicable habit.”
Rua straightened her back and lifted her chin.
“Better.” Flossie continued, “Let me put it to you in a way that you might understand.” She approached the table, her large skirt preventing her from reaching it fully. “The only reason you are still here in this house, in this city, is because the Lord of Donore escorted you out of dinner after your horrible little tantrum. And now he is living in our home because I had the foresight to arrange it.” Flossie’s tone blew past condescending and was teetering on disgust. She truly despised her daughter. Rua felt a stab of pity for Emma and what she must’ve endured. “Your presence in society will only be tolerated so long as the Lord of Donore appears interested.”
Rua swallowed back her rising anger. She hated that she was letting Flossie talk to her this way. Hated that her acceptance hinged on that man’s interest.
She was certain, just as Mara was in her journal, that Flossie’s crossness was what had driven Emma into the arms of Morr í gan—a refuge outside her mother’s patronizing grip. And Mara had been there to capitalize on it.
“Have I made myself clear?” Flossie asked.
Jaw clenched tight, Rua nodded. Flossie would make good on her threat to send her to the asylum. She was sure of it.
It was time she started making other plans. She would not be collateral damage in this war between mother and daughter.
“Now go and find Mara. You’re going for a walk in the park,” Flossie said.
For the remainder of the week, Rua’s routine was exactly the same: wake up for breakfast with the lord, come downstairs to find he’d already left, avoid Flossie’s anger, then promenade in the park with Mara.
Nothing changed. No one spoke to her while she went for her promenade. She never saw the Lord of Donore, because he either kept exceptionally odd hours or he was dodging her. Regardless, Mara was the only one who would talk to her.
Being the debutante daughter Flossie wanted was exasperating. Rua spent hours getting dressed up, only to be ignored by everyone, and was then expected to smile. But her stunt at the Randalls’ dinner the week before had set her back and slowed their social calendar considerably.
It wasn’t permanent, Flossie assured her. They were too important, but for now, Rua was demoted to strolls in public places.
“The weather is getting a bit cooler,” Rua said, appreciating the lack of humidity as they walked down the steps to the arcade.
As was her daily routine, they walked from the mall up to the fountain at Bethesda Terrace. She looked forward to it immensely, as it was the only part of her day that allowed her a true moment’s peace. Today, however, she saw something at the fountain that made her chest ache.
Panicked, she stopped short and hid behind one of the arcade arches.
“What is the matter?” Mara asked, looking around.
“Shh.” Rua pulled Mara beside her.
“What are you—Oh,” she said, following Rua’s gaze. “Will we go a different way today?”
Annette and Finn circled the fountain, arm in arm, desecrating Rua’s favorite place.
She had no claim to Finn, nor had he any claim to her. But she certainly didn’t like seeing Annette get what she wanted.
“I don’t need another confrontation with Annette. Let’s just turn around before she sees me.”
“Are you sure that’s why we’re turning around?”
“Does it really matter?” Rua asked, looking to Mara.
“If you did fancy him, perhaps you and your mother could put aside your differences and work together?” Mara suggested.
“Work together to catch his interest? I will do no such thing. And besides, I don’t fancy him. He is far too arrogant for my taste.” And much, much too handsome. She’d never be able to concentrate.
“Whatever you say,” Mara said.
Americans were loud, but Miss Harrington was louder.
While Annette prattled on about who had worn the wrong gloves at last night’s dinner, he was being entertained by one redheaded socialite trying to hide in a gown twice the width of the pillar she was ducking behind.
He’d seen the look on her face the moment she spotted them. He felt a pang of guilt at the distress it seemed to cause her, like he’d taken the last piece of her favorite pie, then spit it onto the ground. He was surprised to see her grab her maid and go the other way. Disappointed, even. Though he wasn’t sure why. It was his fault that they were becoming strangers.
She’d gotten under his skin with her clever tongue and striking beauty, and he had enough common sense to know that if he didn’t put some distance between himself and Rua, he would lose himself entirely. But the distance didn’t stop the longing.
He’d catch little glimpses of her. Sometimes in the mornings, groggily coming downstairs for a breakfast he was never going to attend. He’d love nothing more than to sit across from her and watch as she came to life with her morning tea.
Then there were his favorite quiet moments, when she’d sit by the window of the library reading. He’d often see her there on his way back to the house, illuminated by the firelight. How many times had he stopped outside those mahogany doors, threatening to join her, only to walk away before it was too late.
“I have it on good authority that she purchased it at a department store,” he heard Annette say. “I mean, how are we to distinguish ourselves as their betters when they are able to dress like us? Though the quality is a dead giveaway.”
“Indeed,” Finn muttered, paying her little heed.
“If only there was something we could do about Emma Harrington,” she said, finally managing to catch his attention.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You cannot tell me you didn’t notice how peaceful the last week of events have been without her?”
He had noticed, all right, but rather than peaceful, he found them dull and loathsome.
“Not to mention how dangerous her reputation is for business,” she said, parroting something she must have heard her father say.
“Madame Webster’s dressmaking business seems to be faring well,” Finn added. Perhaps he was too close to the situation, he wasn’t sure he would have noticed otherwise, but in every ballroom he saw ladies imitating Rua’s gown, down to the color. Annette included.
“Really?” Annette asked, sticking her nose in the air, “I hadn’t noticed.”
Finn said nothing as he guided Annette away from Rua.
“How much longer are you planning on residing in the Harringtons’ home, my lord?” Annette asked, her voice a tad shaky.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” he lied. The Harringtons had offered for the season, and everyone knew it, thanks to Flossie. Had she not said anything, he would’ve moved into another hotel and no one would have batted an eye. But if he left now, it would further damage the Harringtons’ reputation—further damage Rua’s. Word would get out, and it would be twisted and warped in the scandal sheets. They would find some way to blame her for it, and so he’d decided he would stay.