Page 20 of The Gods Time Forgot

Twenty

When the show was over, Finn and the other men bid the ladies farewell as they got into the carriages and went home. Custom dictated a cheroot at the club or, for some of the other men, an evening with a courtesan.

Ned was drunk in the corner of the room while Richard sat up front like a king.

Women filed into the club one by one, dressed in their late-night best, unencumbered by societal standards. The men in the room roared their cheers as the women paraded in front of them. Any one of them could’ve seen what happened on Greene Street, could’ve spotted him and Rua as they fled.

He moved behind one of the room’s large white pillars, not wanting to be noticed.

He was still waiting for news of the murdered man. Waiting and listening to hear if any of the men had brought it up after spending some time with their women. The sad truth of it was, crime was on the upswing, and the police didn’t bother to meddle in the affairs of the sex district.

All Finn really wanted to do was follow Rua home and find out all the ways he might have known her. He swirled the contents of his glass, thinking the color was the same as Rua’s hair. He swallowed it in one sip.

She’d thrown him for a loop with the name of her perfume, Crios C ú Chulainn.

It was true what she’d said, that after battle the famed warrior had been known to bathe in the flower, its properties being the only thing that could return him from his battle frenzy. Unimaginable to think that the dainty white flower could stave off the r í astrad and subdue the beast that he became. What were the odds that she would pick out his favorite smell? What could explain it, other than coincidence?

And bloody hell, the sound of the Irish words when they’d left her lips. Spoken perfectly. He was in awe. Another layer she had revealed.

“Donore, I have a friend I’d like you to meet.” An acquaintance named Fredrick peaked out from behind the column, disrupting his thoughts.

“Who?” Finn asked.

Fredrick pointed to a woman wearing a red satin gown with her skirts slipped up to her thighs. Flirtatiously, she offered him a wave, hiking her skirt up a bit more.

That was his cue. He put his empty glass down on the table and left the club.

His return to the Harrington home was greeted by muffled shouting. Curious, he followed the noise upstairs.

“Whatever were you thinking, sneaking out of the lord’s opera box?”

He could hear Mrs. Harrington’s raised voice coming through the library.

“I swear, young lady, I’ve had enough of your nonsense. Sneaking off into the curtains with a man like some trollop. If you were gone any longer …” She paused. “Well, I should hate to think of the rumors that would churn!”

“It wasn’t just any man, Mother, it was the Lord of Donore. I thought you’d be pleased. Then we’d have him good and trapped, no?” Rua said brazenly.

“The cheek of you!”

“Surely, you could have stopped me if you thought it was an issue.”

“I was watching the performance,” Flossie snarled. “If you don’t start acting the way a decent woman should, oh, so help me, I’ll more than make good on my threat. Your behavior is a reflection on this family. You’ve left me with little choice.”

Guilt washed over him. It was he who had lured Rua out of the opera house.

But Mrs. Harrington continued her assault. “Do you think the lord will want you now?”

If anything, Finn wanted her more.

“You’ve shown him how loose your morals are. Why would he bother marrying you now?”

Bloody hell.

Rua’s silence broke his heart.

“When he gets what he wants from you, he’ll return to wherever he came from with Annette Fitzgerald in tow. Now get to bed.”

Once upon a time, he had shared Mrs. Harrington’s sentiments. He felt monstrous for it now. Rua was a welcome diversion to the tedium—necessary, even.

As footsteps approached the door, he retreated into the dark corners of the hallway.

“Mara, I require a cup of tea before bed,” Mrs. Harrington barked.

Finn’s eyes darted to the shadowy nook concealing Mara. Apparently, there were two sneaks lurking in the corridor tonight.

“She’s not right in the head. Positively hysterical. Imagine, sneaking out in front of everyone!”

Mara glanced toward Finn and back to Mrs. Harrington. He wondered why she wasn’t giving him away.

“My husband’s business prospects, my acceptance at social events—oh, heaven forbid it. We’ll be forced to move out of the city. Live like lepers somewhere up north. We must keep her contained until it can be resolved. And it will be soon.”

Mara whispered something too low for him to hear.

“And that’s exactly where she is going. She’ll stay home for the remainder of the week. Possibly the one after that, too. I can no longer bear it.” There was a pause. “I’m going to bed. Bring me some tea.”

He wondered if Rua understood the seriousness of her situation. Her cheek was sure to catch up to her at some point.

When Mrs. Harrington and Mara had gone, Finn moved into the library.

Rua was draped over the armchair, her face covered by a small book.

“Still reading that?” he asked.

“I’ve just gotten to the part where the man thinks his efforts have paid off.”

He laughed as she lowered the book just enough for her lovely green eyes to show, though sometimes he was sure they were gold.

He shut his eyes, a terrible pain in his head.

He gripped the base of his blade, wary of the golden eyes that approached him.

“You should try and relax,” she teased.

He heard the smile in her voice, but it did not ease his worry. For there could be no trust in a woman who did not trust herself.

“I’ve only come to find someone to enjoy the stars with,” she said.

A true chameleon.

She reached for his hand. He gave it willingly.

Finn looked at Rua, trying to understand it. Trying to connect this woman before him with the one he saw in his mind. Were they one and the same?

Then what did that make him?

It had never occurred to him that he could be anyone other than who he’d always thought he was—a man from Ireland, with a good heart and a need to thrive. But meeting Rua had unraveled his meticulously curated world.

“Are you all right?” Rua asked, squinting and tapping the book against her nose.

“Yes, it’s just—I feel terrible for the predicament you’re in. It is entirely my fault,” he said, casting his troubling thoughts aside.

“So you heard?”

“I heard enough.” He walked over to her, stopping beside her chair.

She tilted her head back, exposing her slender neck as she stared at the ceiling. Sounding bored, she asked, “Do you think me a trollop, Finn?”

She brought her focus back to the room—to him.

“Of course not,” he said. “But I never should have taken you from the opera. It was reckless.” He should’ve had a care for how her mother would react, even if Rua didn’t.

“I got up and walked out on my own two legs,” she said, sitting up, reaching for his hand.

The light touch set his pulse racing. She was soft and delicate but wild and passionate at the same time. Truly unrivaled. How could he have ever thought he’d find contentment with someone else? Rua was who he wanted.

“And anyway, my issues with Flossie have nothing to do with you. I certainly don’t care what you think of my morals.” She grinned, then added, “I enjoyed myself tonight, and I would do it again.”

He returned her smile, despite his concern. “Are you not worried about your mother’s warning?”

She shrugged. “I have more pressing things on my mind.”

“Like what?” He sat down in the chair beside her.

She stared at the floor for a long moment before she looked his way. “Can I trust you?”

“With anything,” he answered without hesitation.

She smiled, thoughtful, as though she could hear every labored beat of his heart, but she did not speak. Her secrets meant too much.

But he could wait no longer. They’d existed for too long in this limbo, skirting around hard truths, and now he needed answers. “This is going to seem strange,” he started, the words heavy as bricks, “but I need to know.”

Rua’s head cocked to the side, her expression menacingly unreadable. He almost reconsidered broaching the subject. “Do you ever get the sense that we’ve met before?”

“Before when?” Her voice was cool as she appraised him.

And then he saw it flash, the gilt in her eyes. A predator circling its prey. He batted down his alarm and pressed onward. “Before Manhattan. I cannot explain this feeling that I somehow know you.”

“Well,” she said, her words like slow-moving lava, “wouldn’t you know if you’d met me before?”

“I suppose it doesn’t make much sense,” he said, regretting the conversation.

Rua sat unmoving. She might’ve been a statue.

He was immobile, too, realizing his life hung in the balance. He wondered if she would ever speak again. He hoped she was trying to think of the right words to tell him he wasn’t mad and she knew exactly how he felt. But hope was a fool’s fancy.

Abruptly, Rua got up and walked to the mahogany double doors. For a brief, humiliating moment, he thought she might leave. That she thought him too ridiculous to be worthy of a response. But she stopped, pushing them shut before turning her sights on the dark corners of the room.

When she was satisfied they were alone, she sat back down, leaning toward him.

“I need to get something from Mara’s room,” she said.

“Your maid’s room?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“Why can’t you just ask her for whatever it is?” he asked, realizing she was going to ignore everything he’d just said. He’d misread the situation and felt foolish for it now.

Rua shook her head, grinning. “She can’t know.”

He watched her a moment, a playful look in her eyes. He couldn’t imagine what she might need to steal from the maid, but he didn’t have the strength to refuse her.

He sighed. Perhaps it was enough that he’d brought the subject up. He’d unburdened himself, and how she responded was not in his control. “What do you need from me?”

“I need you to be the lookout,” she said, scrunching her face.

He smiled. “I suppose it’s the least I could do.”

“I agree,” she said, rising to her feet.

“I happen to know that Mara is making your mother a cup of tea as we speak,” he said, happy to be able to provide her with this small piece of information.

“You’ll prove useful yet, my lord.” She laughed, hurrying toward the door. “What are we waiting for?”

They crept down the back stairs like two thieves in the night. He found being in cahoots with Rua to be thrilling, though the stakes weren’t very high. But he was slowly realizing that if it mattered to her, it mattered to him.

“What is it that you need from her room?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“A book.”

He frowned, following her. “Your taste in literature is quite eclectic.”

She glanced back at him with a cheeky grin.

“What are the contents of said book?”

She didn’t answer.

They reached the bottom of the staircase and stared down a long corridor of white walls and many doors. There were no servants to be seen, but he could hear the distant clatter of dishware.

“Wait here, and don’t let anyone by you.”

“Simple enough,” he said, watching Rua tiptoe down the hall into a room she’d clearly visited before. He checked his watch, noting that it was a few minutes past midnight. Perhaps the halls were empty because the servants were in bed. “Rua?” he whispered loudly to warn her.

Not twenty seconds later, there was a scream, and out barreled Rua, book in hand. “Go!”

He waited until she was ahead of him, and they both took off back up the stairs.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I forgot Mara had a roommate,” she gasped, taking the stairs two at a time. “She saw me and got a fright.”

They kept running until they reached the top. Rua plopped down on the step and lay on her back. He sat next to her, watching as she laughed and caught her breath. He’d never met anyone so beautiful. Giving in to the impulse, he lay back beside her, resting his hands on his stomach.

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about all the ways he was amazed by her. “Rua, when did you learn to speak Irish?”

She rolled her head to the side to face him, and he did the same. “I don’t know.” Her voice was quiet.

He watched the delicate pout of her lips and the crinkle in her brow, and believed she was just as surprised as he was. But I don’t know wasn’t an answer.

“I don’t understand,” he said. Irish was a complex language. Not something one picked up on a whim. His mind grudgingly went to the rumors about her and the laborer’s comments about the hell caves, Oweynagat. How did a young woman from the upper echelons of society wind up at a supposed hell cave? Something wasn’t adding up.

“Neither do I,” she said, her words final.

Finn sat up, propped against his elbows. “Mara’s roommate will tell her that you were there, no?”

“Perhaps,” Rua said, “but I got the book.” She sat forward, pulling it from behind her back.

“That looks like a diary,” he said.

She looked up at him through thick eyelashes, not an ounce of remorse. “It is.”

He frowned. What on earth was she doing stealing her maid’s diary?

“Well, if I told you what I was taking, you, with your strict moral code, wouldn’t have helped me.”

He’d like to believe that was true, but when it came to Rua, the lines were blurring.

“Surely you could’ve talked to her about whatever answers you’re searching for?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I had no other choice.”

He believed her.

She tossed the journal over in her hands a few times. “What time is it? I should probably get to bed. I need to read this and put it back before she knows what I took.”

Agreeing, Finn checked his watch. “Twenty past twelve,” he said.

He stood up and offered her a hand up. She took it and didn’t let go. The warmth of her small fingers wrapped around his own was agonizing.

He turned to face her, longing to pull her lips up to his. To experience one more moment of her exquisiteness. For a split second, he thought he might.

Then Rua spoke. “What about Annette?”

His chest tightened, knowing what she was asking. His heart or his head?

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she leaned into him.

Rua had upended his life, his very existence. He was set aflame, willing to burn his careful world to the ground for the chance to be with her.

“What about her?” He kissed the top of Rua’s head, and they walked down the hall, hand in hand.