The Vaudeville Star - Page 76

“Because it leaves nothing to the imagination.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He pulled her corset around her waist, and she leaned away from him as he pulled the ties tighter.

“Ugh!” she complained. “I can’t breathe!”

“Shhh!” he admonished her, throwing the dress over her head and doing up the laces at the back of the dress.

“My head hurts, Ford.”

“Soon you’ll be in your own room, and you can sleep the afternoon away like the Southern belle you are,” he teased.

“You shouldn’t have let me drink so much.”

“And you shouldn’t have been such a little brat and drank all that champagne. Come on.”

He pulled her up, and she fell against him. “Sorry. My legs.”

She slipped into her shoes, and they exited his cabin. Ruby was still a little woozy, but she realized that she had spent a large part of the night in Ford’s cabin. Anyone seeing them would never believe she was innocent and that nothing had happened. Her reputation would be ruined. On top of which, King would probably throw her out of the tour, and Ford might even lose his job if King wanted revenge.

She felt a wave of panic as they moved along the passageway and heard footsteps and a voice. Ford threw her into a small alcove, and they waited until the passersby had disappeared. He looked down at her.

“It will be okay,” he assured her.

When they finally made it to her cabin, she stepped inside, grateful to have made it safely without being seen.

Ford stepped out onto the deck and took a deep breath. The night sky had turned gray, and a pink sliver was showing itself on the horizon. He leaned against the railing, looking out over the dark water against the lightening sky. Soon they would be in Liverpool. After what had happened with Ruby lying in his bed and in his arms, it couldn’t be soon enough.

Ruby settled into the train car with Bessie seated across from her. She had been so relieved to finally leave the Oceanic. The time spent on the ocean liner had not been overly long, but after several days, she was anxious to be back on dry land, away from King’s interest and Ford’s dark gazes.

The train from Liverpool to London would take many hours with nothing to do but watch as the countryside flew by. Ford and King had taken a different train in Liverpool, which gave her some breathing room from them both.

Bessie had spent much of the train ride looking out the window and commenting on how it looked like this place or that while Ruby was thinking excitedly about their upcoming tour and how they would be received.

She knew that Zeta was still the reigning diva and top-billed performer, but she now had three songs, which gave her more time in front of the audience and a chance to develop a following in London.

As the train moved closer to London, she thought vaguely of that night with Ford. She knew she had behaved badly, begging for Ford to kiss her. She cringed. Her only defense was that she had too much to drink and had not been able to hold her liquor, as Ford had correctly surmised. She remembered Ford’s mouth against hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She had been ridiculous.

When the train finally pulled into London, the various performers obtained taxis and made their way to Durrants. She would be sharing a room with Bessie, which she didn’t mind at all.

Everyone was settling into their rooms when she heard Archie and Max heading out.

“Come on, Ruby! Archie said they are going to a nearby pub. They invited us along!” Bessie said, heaving her trunk into the corner and grabbing her small purse.

“What’s a pub?” Ruby asked as Bessie pulled her hand.

“A public house. A place to meet and drink,” Bessie explained.

She joined the men as they were moving along the corridor, and Archie winked at her.

“So! The princess has deigned to be among the common folk,” he said, teasing her.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m as common as anyone.”

As they entered The Duke, Ruby stared around her at the Victorian interior with rich wood paneling, booths, and a long bar. She admired the molded ceiling, the etched glass in the doors, and the intricate design on the tiles.

Tags: Nicola Italia Historical
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