Page 12 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Twelve

Rule #12: Be mindful when choosing a task for regaining forfeits—your challenge can be interpreted in a number of meaningful ways

The group had gathered around the card table holding the forfeits. A smattering of small personal objects littered the surface. While Oliver assumed the rest of the group wanted the women to choose a man’s item and the men to choose a woman’s, he’d far prefer to take Samuel’s golden fob and be done with it.

He could take Ruth’s glove—that would have been the simple answer. But something had happened when they had stood near the balustrade. Like a candle snuffing in a pinch, Ruth had gone from being friendly to closing off entirely, backing away from him. The worst bit of the entire exchange was the hurt evident on her face.

He had done something wrong, but what? Yes, he’d kept his distance the last few days, but only because he was barely holding himself together, and one look from Ruth was certain to crumble his poorly constructed walls. His father was ill. At this very moment, his uncles were traveling to retrieve him. And Oliver was standing amongst a group of marriage-minded people discussing constellations.

It all felt so very wrong. The only reason he could remain standing among this crowd and not break was the distance he’d kept from Ruth. If she spoke to him, she would see through him, and he wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore. He needed to pretend, or he would be lost to the worry and concern consuming him.

Shaking his discomfort, he stepped closer to the table and lifted a small brooch. He didn’t recognize it, so it could not be Ruth’s, surely.

“Oh, that is mine,” Miss Jane said, clapping her hands together much like her sister had earlier.

“You would like it back?” he asked, giving her a smile and hoping it looked real.

“Yes. What would you have me do?” she asked. Her eyes were bright, eager. He knew the entire objective of his game was for young ladies to find ways to put themselves in a gentleman’s arms, but he wasn’t in the correct frame of mind for flirtation.

Really, he ought to have left the house entirely. Short of that, he should have stayed in his room.

He rustled up another smile. “I’m afraid I’m not very creative.”

“Ask her to sing one of Byron’s poems,” suggested Miss Edmonds.

“Or bray like a donkey,” Mr. Bailey offered, earning a playful scowl from Miss Jane.

“Choose your animal, Miss Jane,” Oliver said. “Act it out until we can guess what it is. ”

“Very well.”

The circle widened, allowing more space for Miss Jane to complete her task. She stood, thinking for a moment, before putting one hand behind her back and the other forward, bent and waving, like it was coming from her face. She made a strange, guttural sound, and everyone stared at her.

“A bird?” Miss Edmonds asked.

“No.” Miss Jane repeated the guttural sound, like a moaning, dying animal. Oh, dear. It did not sound at all like she intended, he imagined.

“Are you a bear?” Mr. Bailey asked.

“No.”

It was obvious to Oliver what she was meant to be.

“An elephant?” Ruth asked.

“Yes!” Miss Jane dropped her arms. “I will take my brooch back, please.”

Oliver handed it to her. He ought to make his excuses now and sneak up to his room, but his watch was sitting on the table. He would have to wait until it was selected by someone else.

“Who is next?” Miss Temple asked. “I believe it was Mr. Edmonds, yes?”

They moved through the group, in the order of how many constellations they had spotted—and could identify—while the forfeits grew more ridiculous. Edmonds had selected Miss Temple’s handkerchief and forced her to recite a nursery rhyme while walking a straight line backwards. She did so without knocking into any furniture, impressively. Then Miss Edmonds had selected Samuel’s watch fob and had forced him to tell a story about the house party attendees. He had done an excellent job, of course, making everyone laugh—even Oliver.

Ruth had only sparked the smallest of smiles, however.

Miss Temple selected Edmonds and required him to stand on one foot while he recited a poem from memory. Mr. Bailey then approached the table, looking at the remaining items. He looked up at Ruth, and Oliver couldn’t help but see her blush in response when he reached for a glove.

“Whose glove is it?” Miss Temple asked. “The two look nearly identical.”

“I placed a left hand glove on the table,” Ruth said.

Miss Edmonds pulled out her glove to verify. “It is mine, if it is a right hand.”

Mr. Bailey took his time holding the dainty fingers up and pressing it against his hand. “Appears to be a right hand,” he said, affording Oliver no small amount of relief. Watching the man flirt with Ruth was maddening.

The last few items were claimed, Samuel taking Ruth’s glove and Miss Jane taking Mr. Bailey’s, leaving Oliver’s lone watch on the table and Ruth the last to choose.

His heart thudded. It was undeniable that things were strained between them at present. He held his breath, waiting to hear what she would say he needed to do. It was like her to come up with the most outlandish activities. She had once forced her brother to jump in the pond—in March. Ryland had done it, because she had held on to his boot until he’d completed his task.

With how Ruth felt at present, Oliver would not be surprised if she told him to walk along the balustrade on the balcony, or roll down the hill into the pond, or even kiss the candle, but switch a candle out for a cat’s paw once his eyes were closed.

Did the Temple twins own a cat? He certainly hoped not.

Ruth looked down at the pocket watch on the table, then to Oliver. “If you’d like your watch, you can walk across the rug with your eyes closed.”

Oliver waited. That was all? Surely she would add a complication. He had once been in the room when she’d required Eliza, her dearest friend, to travel from one side of the room to the other without touching the floor.

Ruth blinked at him, and he found he didn’t appreciate her lack of enthusiasm.

“Wonderful.” Oliver moved toward the carpet. “Pardon me,” he said to Mrs. Watson and Lady Helena, seated on the sofa.

“Shall we move out of your way?” Lady Helena asked. She had been watching their game from afar, laughing at some of the antics in between her conversation with her friend.

“That isn’t necessary. You shouldn’t be in any danger on the sofa.” Oliver was capable of walking a straight line, at least. He stood at one end and shot Ruth a look before closing his eyes and walking across the carpet. “Tell me to stop before I reach the fireplace,” he said.

“Stop!” Lady Helena called with a clap of her hands. “Well done, Oliver.”

He had walked . Blindly, yes, but it had been only a few steps. There was no challenge at all to his forfeit. It was almost offensive that she would not put more thought into it.

Ruth approached him while the rest of the group clapped. He held out his hand, and she dropped his pocket watch into it without raising her gaze to meet his eyes.

He wanted to say something, to stop her, but everyone in the room was looking at him. Instead, he watched her step around him and approach her mother.

“I am tired,” Ruth said quietly.

Lady Helena observed her. “Shall I come up with you?”

“Sarah will be with me,” Ruth said, smiling. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Good night, darling,” Lady Helena said, rising to kiss Ruth’s cheek.

Oliver watched her lips press briefly to Ruth’s skin and wished—very briefly—he could do the same. Gads, but he needed to practice better control over his thoughts and his emotions.

“I believe I will do the same,” Samuel said, yawning.

“As will I,” Oliver said quickly.

“Oh, how odious of you, Mr. Harding,” Miss Jane said, pouting, while Ruth hurriedly slipped from the room. “I thought we were going to play Vingt-et-Un?”

“Will you forgive me?” Samuel asked.

Oliver felt a sense of urgency to follow Ruth, or he would miss the chance to speak to her. But Miss Jane and her flirtations weren’t finished for the evening.

“Very well,” Miss Jane said. “But I expect you to play twice as long tomorrow night to make up for it.”

“Tomorrow we will be dancing,” Miss Temple reminded her sister. “Father agreed to bring in Mrs. Hoover to play for us. It is all sorted already.”

“Then perhaps in the afternoon,” Samuel suggested.

Miss Jane beamed. “That would be splendid.

“I hope everyone will join us,” Samuel said before bowing to the group and turning toward the door.

Oliver followed him after a brief good night, sighing as they reached the staircase. He peered at his cousin as they trudged up toward their chambers. “I thought you liked her,” he said.

“She’s pretty and kind, but…I do not know.” Samuel sighed. “I haven’t felt any sort of connection.”

“It could come yet.”

Samuel didn’t respond to this.

“Why the early evening?” Oliver asked.

Samuel glanced at him. “I thought to do some light reading in my room. You?”

Oliver glanced at him but said nothing disparaging. The man wasn’t known to be a reader, but if he wanted to share why he had really wished to leave the drawing room early, he would have .

“Never mind,” Samuel said. “I think I know why you could no longer remain. Shall I begin packing my trunk?”

“No,” Oliver said. “I promised you two days.”

“It’s nearly been that.”

They’d reached Oliver’s door. He scrubbed a hand down his face. They had only been at Lord Rocklin’s house for five days, which meant they had nine more until the house party ended. He didn’t think he could survive nine days of games and silly girls, but Samuel had been correct. The idea of spending that time alone in his quiet, empty house wasn’t much better. At least here, he was distracted some of the time.

“I am going to stay one more day, at least,” Oliver said.

“Two, then,” Samuel corrected him. “The day after tomorrow is Sunday.”

“So it is.” Oliver found his shoulders relaxing. Knowing he wouldn’t travel yet had somehow relaxed him. He needed to make things right with Ruth first. “Good night, Sam.”

“Would you like me to join you on your ride in the morning?”

The offer proved how worried Samuel was, because he was not an early riser when he could help it. He was solely trying to support his cousin. Oliver quirked a smile. “I don’t mind riding in solitude. You know that.”

Something like relief passed over Samuel’s face. “I will see you at breakfast, then.”

Oliver let himself into his room and closed the door. The fire burned low in the hearth, and the room was pleasantly warm. He crossed to the bed and leaned against it, dropping his head in his hands. He had made a mistake in keeping away from Ruth. If her behavior tonight was an indication, she had been hurt by his carelessness.

He owed her an apology. It would have to wait until morning, but?—

Or would it? She had told her mother that Sarah would be in with her. He knew Sarah—not well, but they’d attended the same church for their entire lives. If he could find Sarah before she went to bed for the night, he could persuade her to pass on a message to Ruth.

It would be far easier to knock on her door, but neither of them wanted the sort of scandal that would invite.

His mind made up, Oliver left his dim room to return to the corridor. He was going to hunt for the maid.