The Vaudeville Star

“I did.”

“She took care of the funeral arrangements for dear Caroline. She was devoted to her.”

“Of course she would be.”

“Caroline was such a sickly thing. I didn’t understand things like that then. When I married her. I thought breeding and money and, of course, beauty was all that was needed in a wife. It’s not.”

Ruby looked down at her hands. “What is needed?”

“Only one thing matters, Ruby. Sons. An heir. If a woman can’t be bred for sons, then she has little value.”

Ruby realized that he had consumed several glasses of champagne and now a brandy. She had only sipped the one glass of champagne through dinner and had barely touched her brandy.

“You make it sound a little like Thoroughbred horse breeding,” she said, smiling, though inside she was shocked at his attitude.

Suddenly, King was smiling too. “That’s exactly what it is like, Ruby! My God, you’re an incredible woman!”

“It is like horse breeding?” she said, grasping at his words, trying to get him to focus on the conversation and not her.

“What? Well. Yes. You want a woman who can give you sons, but she must be healthy and strong to achieve it. And that is where breeding comes into play. Beauty is simply what I must have.”

“Beauty is so important?”

He set aside his glass and moved closer to her on the sofa. “A beautiful woman is an aphrodisiac in itself. To know that you can claim and love such beauty is a feeling of immense power. But then, you aren’t a man to understand such things.”

“No,” Ruby breathed out. “I’m not.”

“I will give you everything you want, Ruby. Jewels, gowns, furs. We will travel. And once you bear me a son—”

“Please, King,” she said, feeling more uncomfortable with each passing second.

“Of course. I spoke out of turn. I must wait.” He kissed the back of her hand. “And I will. For you are worth waiting for.”

Ruby looked away from him. It seems they were both waiting. Ruby was waiting for this infatuation of his to pass. While King was merely waiting for his mourning period to be over before he pounced.

The moment Ruby left King’s cabin, she gulped in huge mouthfuls of air. It was dark, and the night sky was a blanket of ink. There was no one about, and she guessed it must be after midnight.

She moved along the deck and shivered. King’s words repeated in her ears, and for the first time she thought of disembarking in London and returning straight home. She could find another way. She could join another troupe. She could find her way alone without King. But no. That would never work. He would be angry. Even vindictive. He might even stop her career altogether.

She walked along the entire deck of the ship until she came to the stern. She stood at the railing and looked out into the black water. She felt a deep sense of frustration. She didn’t want to be at King’s beck and call. She didn’t want to feel beholden to him for so much, and now it would even be for the clothes on her back. No, she told herself sternly. She would not visit the dressmaker he mentioned.

She couldn’t go to Vernon or Bessie. Everyone wanted the tour to be a success, and her pleasing attitude to King depended on it. She couldn’t even go to Ford. With Zeta watching her every move, she had to keep her distance. She closed her eyes against the cool wind. She must be agreeable. She must wait. She must do as King wished—within reason.

She felt so tired. She should be thrilled with the upcoming tour, but instead King’s dominating personality overshadowed everything. It was not as she wanted. Instead of focusing on their London and Paris tour, she was now trying to placate a powerful man who wanted her.

“You’ll catch cold,” Ford said as he came to stand next to her at the railing.

She wasn’t surprised to find him standing beside her. She knew he was keeping an eye on her. She breathed out, and her breath came out in a cold fog. “I’m going in soon.”

“How was dinner?” he asked, though it came across more as an accusation.

“Fine. A pity you didn’t see fit to interrupt us this time.”

“Was there something to interrupt?”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t deny it quite so much. I might believe you.”