Page 11 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Eleven

Rule #11: Beware of men who enjoy card games—they are likely the sort to lose all their money and play games with your heart, as well

Something was wrong with Oliver.

After the uncomfortable interlude in the garden, when Samuel overheard them talking, Oliver became absent. He was late to dinner that evening, disappeared before the men rejoined the women in the drawing room, and remained holed up in his chamber for the entire following day. Ruth had been forced to ride with Mr. Bailey and Mr. Edmonds that morning. Now it was evening, everyone had gathered for dinner, and again, Oliver was nowhere to be seen.

But Samuel was here.

He hadn’t been ignoring Ruth, exactly, but she had given him a wide berth, hoping the embarrassment of being overheard would fade more quickly than it had. He was a perfectly handsome man, he made her laugh, and she valued his thoughtfulness. There was no understanding why she did not find herself attracted to him romantically, but the truth was she had no desire to kiss him at all.

When comparing the men in the house at present, she would put Oliver, Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Edmonds above Samuel regarding who she would most like to kiss.

Actually, Mr. Edmonds was still a stranger. And Mr. Bailey could very well be in love with Emily.

Oh, dear. It was all too confusing.

There was nothing else for it—she needed to speak to Samuel.

He stood beside the chess table, moving the pieces absently, his eyes glazed as if he wasn’t seeing the queen he slid on the board, but was lost in thought instead.

“Samuel,” she said softly, hoping not to gather interest from anyone else in the room.

He looked up, dropping the queen with a quiet thunk. His face was a picture of concentration, but she watched as the concern bled out of it, quickly replaced by a mask of pleasant indifference. It was incredible how quickly he could change and how authentic he appeared now.

The man was far more complex than she’d realized.

“Ruth,” he said, and she was relieved to hear an absence of anger or hurt. “I imagine you did not come here to challenge me to a game of chess.”

“Are you terribly angry with me?”

“Of course not.”

“I’m a fool,” she said. “I shouldn’t have spoken to Oliver about my feelings. I see that now. I should have spoken directly to you.”

He shook his head, looking back at the chess pieces. He picked up the king and moved it next to its queen in the center of the board. “You have always been clear about how you feel.”

“Perhaps not clear enough, Samuel.” She thought of Eliza’s point, that she had hidden behind rules instead of being forthright and honest. If Ruth had done that in the beginning, this situation could have been avoided. “I’d agreed to give every man here a real chance without immediately discounting anyone, and you were included in that. It was only fair.”

He looked interested. “This was Oliver’s idea?”

Ruth nodded. “He was trying to prove a point, though I’m unsure what it was.”

“Yes, that sounds like him.”

“Are we still friends?” Ruth asked anxiously.

Samuel’s face softened. “We will always be friends, Ruth. These last few days I’ve felt as though we were kids again. No one worrying about marriage, just enjoying ourselves. I’ve liked that.”

She took his forearm, drawing in a quick breath. “I have, too. It has been so refreshing.”

Laying a hand over hers where it rested on his arm, he gave her a soft smile. “Indeed.”

“I’ve missed being your friend, Sam.”

“As have I,” he agreed.

Ruth released an anxious breath. “I’m glad we have that sorted.” She looked at him, gauging his expression. “Would you care to explain Oliver’s strange mood?”

Samuel dropped his hand, leaning away just enough so Ruth’s hand fell from his arm. She wasn’t certain if he had done it on purpose, or if his body had reacted to the question on its own. “He has been…there’s been some news. I really cannot say more than that, Ruth. It isn’t my place to share.”

Curiosity plagued her, but more than that, she was overcome with a wash of concern. “Will he…does he need anything?”

“Oliver is in no great danger,” he said carefully.

He would not say more. That much was obvious.

If Oliver wasn’t in great danger, was someone else? Why would he not confide in her? The doors opened behind them, and dinner was announced.

“He did not meet me to ride this morning,” she went on. “I have not seen him in almost two days. I am worried.”

Samuel’s expression shifted, as though he’d set shutters over his feelings. “Would you like to walk into the dining room with me?”

Ruth glanced up to see that most of the house party had already left the drawing room; they were nearly alone. Jane glanced over her shoulder, giving them a curious look, but soon disappeared.

“Yes, I thank you.” Ruth took Samuel’s arm and followed him, her mind whirling.

“One thing to come out of this house party is our restored friendship, Ruth. If nothing else, I do believe that is worth the time and effort I’ve put into being here.”

He spoke as though he would soon be leaving, but the undercurrent in his words provided a great amount of relief. He was not going to sacrifice her friendship to the awkwardness of what had happened in the garden yesterday.

“Thank you, Samuel,” she said, grateful he had already forgiven her. She was embarrassed for confiding those feelings to Oliver. It made her a gossip, something she had vowed never to become after watching it ruin her dearest friend Eliza’s life for years. She ought to have respected Samuel more than that and been honest with him from the beginning.

“I wrote you a letter, you know,” she said, after she had taken her seat and waited for Samuel to lower himself into the chair beside her. She glanced down the table to see Oliver sitting beside Catherine, smiling kindly and listening attentively to her.

Hurt, hot and swift, flooded her. When had he entered the drawing room, and why had he not greeted Ruth? The last time she had spoken to him was before Samuel found them in the garden, and he had been perfectly normal before then .

Ruth looked at Samuel and found him waiting expectantly. Had he asked her a question? “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t attending.”

“I wondered what you meant,” he pressed. “You said you wrote me a letter.”

“Oh, that. I didn’t know if you would speak to me tonight, so my plan was to slip the letter beneath your door so you would be forced to read my apology if you would not be willing to hear it.”

Samuel pushed his golden hair from his forehead. He looked so intently at her, it made Ruth wonder if she had something on her face.

“May I see it?” he asked.

“Well, we have spoken now, so it would only repeat the things I’ve said to you.”

“Yes, of course.” He hesitated. “I am just curious.”

Ruth was tempted to refuse him, but if that was what he needed to heal and fully move past the discomfort between them, she supposed there was no harm to it.

Only, they could not be seen passing a note, or there would surely be a scandal on their hands. Ruth smoothed down her pink dress over her knees, lifting the glove where she had hidden the letter and slipping it off. She let the glove and the letter fall to the floor.

“Oh, dear me. I’ve dropped my glove.”

“Allow me.” Samuel reached down to pick it up for her, surprise briefly flashing over his eyes before he covered it again. He really was a master of his emotions. Ruth was jealous of the skill. She also wondered how much of his carelessness was a facade meant to distract from his real feelings.

When he straightened, Ruth didn’t see him hide the letter. “Do you have it?” she whispered.

“I do.” His blue eyes tracked her. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Settling her glove on her lap again, she did her best to enjoy her dinner and not speak of Oliver for the rest of the meal.

Oliver had disappeared. Again.

It was growing tiresome, his running away. If Samuel was not angry with her, then what could Oliver possibly be holding against Ruth? It was quite clear he was avoiding her in particular, and it hurt. What had she done to drive him away?

At dinner, he spoke with Catherine on his left and Jane on his right, entertaining both and laughing at their jokes. Ruth had even seen him smile at Lady Helena when the women left the men to their smoking and port.

Not once had he glanced in Ruth’s direction. She had been staring at him, too, hoping to force him into looking at her. Evidently, her powers of will were not strong enough.

The men had just joined them in the drawing room, and Ruth watched them file in from the sofa where she sat with her mother and Mrs. Watson. Samuel, Mr. Edmonds, Mr. Bailey, Mr. Kellinger, Mr. Watson, and Lord Rocklin. No Oliver.

“Shall we have our constellation competition tonight?” Jane asked, standing when the men joined them.

“What exactly will we be competing over?” Emily asked.

“The proper question,” Mr. Bailey said, glancing at Ruth, “is what are we competing for ?”

“We could play for forfeits?” Catherine suggested.

“Yes, let’s do that,” Jane agreed, already pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve with an embellished corner.

“Who is interested in joining?” Catherine said, commanding the group. “If so, place your forfeits on the card table.”

Ruth was not. She knew a few of the constellations, but all she wanted now was to find a way to confront Oliver. She searched for an excuse to leave that would not be obvious or incite gossip, while each other member of the younger set came forward and set an item on the card table. Mr. Kellinger was lost in conversation with Lord Rocklin, while Mr. Watson appeared to already have dozed off in the wingback chair near the fire. Lady Helena and Mrs. Watson were still chatting, unaware of the competition developing around them.

“Miss Wycliffe?” Mr. Bailey asked, approaching her. “Will you join us?”

What could she say now? She stood, gathering her stepmother’s attention briefly. “I would love to.”

She pulled one of her gloves free and set it on the table just as the door to the drawing room opened and Oliver stepped in. Her breath stumbled, their eyes catching before he swiftly looked away.

Hurt sliced through her. What had she done?

“Mr. Rose!” Catherine said, a little too excitedly. “Will you join us? We are having a competition with the constellations, and you must put a forfeit on the card table to join.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

The French doors sat ajar, and people were already milling outside. “Shall we?” Mr. Bailey asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Ruth took his arm, and they stepped around Oliver, who was looking at the forfeited items.

Catherine, Emily, and Jane stood at the balustrade of the balcony and leaned forward, looking out at the night sky. Samuel and Mr. Edmonds did not seem as eager.

“How do you intend to make this a competition?” Mr. Bailey asked, pulling Ruth toward the group.

“Each of us will count as many constellations as we can in two minutes, and the person with the highest number who can name them all wins,” Jane said, then looked to her sister for confirmation. “That is what we decided, yes?”

Catherine nodded, still looking at the sky. “Though each of us can take a forfeit. We will go in order of how many constellations we can each count. “

“It’s unfortunate I only know about three then,” Ruth muttered.

Mr. Bailey laughed. “Which item did you place on the table, Miss Wycliffe? I know more than three.”

He wanted her forfeit. The way he looked down at her now, she didn’t know if she wanted him to have it—not if he was in love with Emily. But she’d seen another glove on the table. Emily had put down a right hand, so Ruth had put down a left.

“A glove,” she said, raising her hand to show her fingers. She slipped the second one off so it wouldn’t be obvious which of the dinner gloves sitting on the card table was hers.

Mr. Bailey smiled.

“Is everyone ready?” Catherine asked.

Murmurs of assent rose from the group as Oliver stepped outside and all the way to the balustrade, resting a hand on the railing. The ghostly moonlight lit his frown, making Ruth wonder what the devil was the matter with him, and why would he not speak to her? Had she done something?

“You have two minutes to find as many as you can. Begin!” Catherine called.

Ruth stepped toward the balustrade, coming to stand beside Oliver. “There’s no point in anyone else looking. Not with you playing.”

He tensed, but he didn’t turn in her direction.

“Unless you do not intend to reveal how well you know the constellations for some gentlemanly reason,” she pressed.

“I hadn’t planned anything like that,” he said, not turning his face away from the sky. His tone delivered the words as if it was a foregone conclusion.

“How would I know? You haven’t spoken to me in days.” It was immature of Ruth. She could recognize that. But she wanted to force him to explain what she had done to so wholly offend him.

Oliver glanced at her, his dark eyebrows pulled together. “I was not avoiding you, Ruth.”

She turned on him, hoping her expression challenged him as much as her heart did. Of course he had been avoiding her. How could he possibly claim otherwise? She was used to being one of the first people he looked to with a smile when he entered a room. He hadn’t looked at her properly since they’d met in the garden. For the life of her, Ruth could not understand what she had done wrong.

The distance their friendship had endured since his grandmother died had saddened her, but during those months, Ruth had believed Oliver was grieving. Now she wondered if there was something deeper at fault—some wrongness within her he was too afraid to share.

Was he avoiding Ruth the way she had artfully avoided Samuel using her rules? Had he noted the way she was drawn to him, the attraction she felt for him, and put distance between them so as not to give her the wrong idea? The idea flushed her body with cold embarrassment.

Ruth pivoted, setting her attention on the stars. Constellations. She needed to count them. She sought Ursa Major, the easiest one for her to pick out.

“Time!” Catherine called, clapping her hands together.

“Ruth,” Oliver said, leaning closer. She could smell his familiar citrus and cedar scent and needed to step back, the heat of embarrassment climbing up her neck.

“I only found one,” she called, laughing while she moved away from him, backing up as though she meant to address the entire group. It was due to luck she ended up standing near Mr. Bailey. “So I am surely last.”

Catherine gave her a puzzled look. “Most likely. Now, let’s find the winner. Who found more than five? ”

Ruth’s ears were roaring, unable to focus on the conversation happening around her. She heard familiar names—Ursa Minor, Casseopeia and Cepheus, Hercules and Aquila. All the while, she was doing her best to remain still and focus on her breathing.

Mr. Bailey leaned in. “Do you need to sit down, Miss Wycliffe?”

She tried to smile at him. “It is a little cool, but I can wait until we are ready to go inside.”

His brows furrowed, disbelieving her. People typically swooned because of heat, not cold. Mr. Bailey really was very handsome, but even if she didn’t suspect that he was in love with Emily, she did not think she would be able to fall in love with him.

No, that emotion was already claimed. For it was abundantly clear, given the way she felt now, that she cared far more for Oliver than she had previously admitted, even to herself.

Indeed, she was not sure she’d quite realized how she felt. But the very notion of him needing to be away from her for any other reason than a need to hide within his grief sliced through her heart like a freshly sharpened blade.

“We have our winner!” Catherine beamed across the balcony, and it did not take long to see who she was grinning at.

Oliver had won after all.