Page 71 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
Ruby and Violet had grown so close over the last year that they felt more like sisters than odd roommates. Ruby helped Violet with her technique, since she had a tendency to drop her elbows at inopportune times. And Violet, well, Violet thought Ruby could do no wrong. After spending her life being criticized for every little thing, it made Ruby start to feel like maybe Violet was right. Maybe Ruby was a right good fighter, and pretty, and stylish, within reason, of course.
The butler entered the drawing room. “A visitor, my lady.”
Lady Andrepont raised her brows expectantly. “Send him in.”
“A Mister Maximillian Vaughn,” the butler announced.
Ruby’s jaw dropped. What was a former-footman-turned-wine-distributor doing calling on a viscountess? Surely any of her wine deliveries would be arranged through the butler down at the servants’ entrance.
Maximillian entered and bowed to Lady Andrepont. He carried a large garment box under one arm. His hair had grown longer than when he was in service, and Ruby thought it suited him well. She liked to run her hands through it when he gave her an opportunity, which wasn’t often. But one day last summer, they had managed to lounge in Hyde Park as if they belonged there.
“My lady, thank you for allowing me to call. Miss Jackson, I see you are looking well.”
Ruby felt strange having him address her as such after their year of walks and picnics and conversations. “Mr. Vaughn. I’m surprised to see you here.”
He raised his eyebrows at Lady Andrepont as if asking permission, and the viscountess dipped her chin. “Tonight,” he said, “as you know, is the Pearlers’ charity ball.”
Of course she knew that. That was why she was here, helping Lady Andrepont choose a coiffure for the evening. Tickets were frightfully expensive, and it wouldn’t do to waste a social event with inferior fashion.
Maximillian sank to one knee in front of Ruby. He placed the garment box on her lap. “Last year, my mistake humiliated both me and you in a room full of strangers. That night, you told me to make it up to you, and when you winked at me, I lost my heart.”
Ruby looked aghast at Lady Andrepont. “I did not wink.”
Maximillian laughed. “You most assuredly winked. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I would not wink at a footman.” Ruby was no longer sure. Did she wink at him?
“You winked at this footman. And I did as you directed—I bet on you, I made my money. I left service to create a different life for myself, and most importantly, I’m here to make it up to you. Miss Ruby Jackson, would you do me the honor of attending a ball with me?”
Ruby’s mouth was hanging open but no words would come out.
“Before you tell me that you’ve nothing to wear—” Maximillian opened the garment box, and a beautiful silk dress the color of burnt oranges and gold shimmered in the light. “I wanted to replace the one I ruined last year.”
Ruby’s fingers trembled as she reached down to touch it. The silk was cool and fine against her fingers. It was so much more expensive than last year’s frock. “How can you afford such finery?”
Maximillian smiled. “I bet on you every time. You’ve never let me down.”
A lump formed in her throat. She didn’t want to cry for fear that she would ruin the silk.
“Is that a yes? You’ll go to the ball—”
“Yes!” She flung her arms about his neck.
“Shall I have my maid steam the dress, and you can ready yourself here? We can share a carriage.”
Ruby tore her gaze from Maximillian. “You knew about this?”
Lady Andrepont kept her sphinx-like smile and rose to ring for her maid.
Ruby cradled Maximillian’s clean-shaven jaw in her hand. “Thank you.”
He searched her eyes. “You know there’s a bigger question I have to ask you.”
Ruby swallowed hard. Violet had predicted this very thing. They’d giggled about it under covers and talked about whether or not Ruby would keep her stage name the same, like Bess Abbott, or change it.
“What is it?” Ruby asked, near breathless.
“Do you have better dancing shoes than those?” Maximillian asked, pointing at her feet.
