The truth was the ball could go ahead without her and she knew it. It could be she was running—exactly as he had a decade ago. The irony was more than apparent.
Images of Ruby filtered through his brain. Her elfin features illuminated by enthusiasm, haunted by sadness, etched with compassion, lit up by desire. The gurgle of her laugh, the beauty of her smile... The idea of losing her, the idea that she might not return, sent a searing pain to his very soul.
Alongside that was fear...the terror of what it would feel like to let go, to allow his emotions full rein. Fear that he would somehow let Ruby down. If he allowed love to take hold he would screw it up, not be the man she deserved. That added up to a whole lot of scared.
The question now was what was he going to do about it?
* * *
Ruby approached the swish London hotel—the very same one where she had discovered Hugh’s infidelity and perfidy in a double whammy. For a scant second she wondered why the idea of facing Hugh now didn’t have the power to intimidate her. Possibly because she felt numb—had felt a cold, clammy sense of ‘ugh’ since she’d filled her suitcase and fled Caversham Castle.
Right now all she wanted was to get this over with, because she didn’t want Portia to go through the same pain and disillusionment. In addition, it was about time she stood up to Hugh Farlane.
r /> As she entered the imposing lobby—all fancy uniformed staff, marble and fluted pillars—one of Hugh’s assistants rushed over to her.
‘Come with me,’ he said, his eyes roving the area. ‘We don’t want any bad publicity.’
‘Hi, Greg. Good to see you again. Thanks for arranging this.’
The young man flushed. ‘Sorry. It’s good to see you too. But Hugh is very emphatic that I get you up there fast.’
‘So he hasn’t decided how to spin it yet?’
Greg declined to answer, shifting from foot to foot in an agony of discomfort, and then hustled her to the lift.
Once inside the sleek metal box, she felt a sliver of worry permeate the anaesthetic of hurt. Hugh Farlane had the power to crush her like an insignificant bug, and she didn’t have Ethan’s protection to fall back on now. In her own mind at least she was no longer a Caversham employee.
The irony was that she’d come full circle.
No! Not true. Weeks before she hadn’t had the courage to stand up to Hugh. Now she did. In the past weeks she’d learned so much—on a professional and a personal level.
Before, the thought of any contact with her siblings had been an impossibility—now the idea seemed feasible. Because Ethan had shown her a new perspective. Somehow he had shown her her own inner strength. Which was a further irony. Because now she would have need of that strength to get over Ethan.
Not now. Put the pain aside and channel that inner power.
Her vertebrae clicked as she straightened up. The lift doors swooshed open and she stepped forward and followed Greg along the plushly carpeted floor to the ornate door of the penthouse suite.
‘Good luck,’ Greg murmured as he knocked and then faded discreetly away.
The click as the door swung open set her heart pounding but she managed a smile.
‘Ruby...’ Hugh stepped forward, the familiar smile full of charm on his lips. ‘Great to see you. Come right on in.’
Could the man have had some sort of amnesia attack?
‘Drop the charm, Hugh,’ she said. ‘I’ve come here to give you fair warning.’
‘Of what?’
‘If this is another scam I won’t stand by and let it happen. I will not let you do it to Portia.’
A roll of his deep brown eyes. ‘And what exactly do you think you can do to stop me? Wait.’ He raised his hand. ‘I can answer that for you. There is nothing you can do. Portia believes in me, and as far as she is concerned you are a gold-digging vixen. And that’s the way it’s going to stay. In fact...’ A casual shrug accompanied his words. ‘It may get a bit heated for you in the press again. We’ll be giving interviews, and Portia does feel very strongly about you.’
‘That’s a joke, right?’ Her imagination went into boggled mode. ‘You want me to take the flak again?’
‘Yes.’ Hugh smiled—a smile that would reduce half the population to its knees but left her utterly unmoved. ‘That’s not a problem, is it?’
‘What if I say it is?’