Page 16 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Sixteen

Rule #16: Never play chess while distracted

Mr. Edmonds’ injury had come as a shock to the entire house. He was sodden with rain when he was carried to his bedchamber and seen by the doctor, but despite the thorough examination and use of Mrs. Watson’s smelling salts, he did not awaken until later that evening, then promptly fell asleep again, sleeping through the entirety of the next day.

The dancing for Saturday evening had been postponed. Mrs. Hoover was informed her services would be requested again once they were aware of the state of Mr. Edmonds’s health. The entire house party, except for Emily, attended church in the village the following morning and passed the Sabbath with restful activities.

When they all gathered in the drawing room for dinner, Emily made her first appearance. Ruth noticed her right away from the chair she occupied near the fire. Emily’s smile was drawn, her eyes wary. Lord Rocklin and Mr. Kellinger immediately approached her, taking her arms to lead her toward the sofa. “You must rest, Miss Edmonds,” Lord Rocklin said with empathy. “Do not feel you must dine with us if you would prefer a tray in your room—or in your brother’s chamber.”

She gave him a grateful smile, smoothing her hands down her deep green gown. “I thank you, my lord, but the distraction of dining with others is exactly what I need at present.”

He gave her a jovial smile, showcasing his missing tooth. “Then I am glad to have you join us.”

Ruth picked a thread from her pink gown, returning her attention to Samuel, who occupied the chair beside hers. “Do you intend to remain for the rest of the week?” she asked quietly.

It had been something Lady Helena mentioned. Given the accident, it might be more appropriate for each of them to return home and end the house party early. It was a show of respect for the Edmonds siblings. The Temple twins would be heartbroken, of course, which had led Lady Helena to decide to wait. Lord Rocklin would surely send everyone home if he deemed it necessary, would he not? Anyway, while Mrs. Watson had taken on the role of chaperone for Emily and the Temple sisters, she could not leave until the party disbanded. And Lady Helena wanted to spend as much time with Mrs. Watson as she was able.

“I have left that decision with Oliver,” Samuel said. His golden waistcoat paired well with his blue coat, making him look dashing and regal, his dark golden hair shining from the low burning fire. “I am utterly at his disposal.”

“I hope you will both stay at least as long as I am,” Ruth said, “but it is certainly understandable if Oliver wishes to be home.”

Samuel’s blue eyes searched her face. “He told you, then.”

“Yes.” She grimaced. “I cannot help wondering how best to support him. ”

Samuel shook his head, sighing. “We can do nothing more than we are doing now, Ruth. Wait for more information.”

“We can pray for his father’s recovery.”

“Well, yes. That, too.”

She grinned briefly, but caught Emily’s eye and dropped her smile immediately. How would Ruth feel if either of her brothers were upstairs now, unconscious and injured? She would not be smiling, either.

Dinner was announced. Mr. Bailey approached her, heedless of Samuel’s proximity—or perhaps because of it. “May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner, Miss Wycliffe?”

“Thank you, yes.” She took his arm. They passed Emily crying softly on Mr. Kellinger’s green sleeve. “Ghastly business, the whole of it,” Ruth whispered.

“It is a shame. I hope he wakes soon and begins to recover.” Mr. Bailey’s eyes flicked to her. “My motivations for hoping that are only partly for Mr. Edmonds’ benefit, though.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to dance with you, Miss Wycliffe. I cannot do that if the house is hovering on the brink of mourning.”

Mourning? Gads, but that was extreme. Her cheeks grew warm as a blush stole up her face, and she looked away while he pulled out her chair. “You should not say such things.”

Mr. Bailey took his seat beside her. “Perhaps not, but it is the truth. I finally felt as though I might make progress with a particular lady I had my eye on, and this wrench was thrown in the spokes. Forgive my brashness, but if we are disbanded and sent home the moment the Sabbath has ended, I will curse my missed opportunities.”

His bluntness called her attention. She raised her eyes to meet his and found a steady challenge in their green depths. He was as good as staking his interest in Ruth. It sent a flurry of sudsy bubbles through her stomach. He was handsome, a good option. Lady Helena had as much as offered to invite him to Harewood.

But what of Emily?

Ruth looked away, peeling her gloves from her hands to place them in her lap. “We should not worry until we know for certain what Lord Rocklin intends. For all we are aware, Mr. Edmonds could be waking this very moment.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Bailey said noncommittally. “In the meantime, I intend not to waste this evening. Promise you will play chess with me when dinner is over?”

She looked up again, thinking of Emily’s words, then glanced down the table where the woman was sitting, a sad expression on her face while Mr. Kellinger and Lord Rocklin flanked her.

“Very well,” Ruth said. “But I must warn you—I am really quite good at chess.”

He shot her a small smile. “I expected as much from you, Miss Wycliffe.”

The promised chess game had only just begun when Mrs. Hull came in search of Emily to inform her that her brother was awake. She rose from the sofa, where she had been sitting beside Mrs. Watson, and followed the housekeeper from the room in a flurry of hurried steps, her green gown billowing around her legs in her haste.

Ruth watched her leave with growing uneasiness.

“You are kind to be so concerned about Mr. Edmonds,” Mr. Bailey said.

Ruth turned back to face the chess board and found him watching her closely. She swallowed. Was he not worried for Mr. Edmonds? For Emily? “Do you think I ought to go after her? To be there in case she finds herself in need of support? ”

Mr. Bailey’s dark eyes flicked toward the door. “I believe Miss Jane has the same idea.”

He was right. Jane was hurrying from the room, the quickness of her steps indicating she was following Emily. Catherine remained in the drawing room, speaking to Oliver. Ruth caught his gaze, noting the frown turning his lips down. The poor man was worried for his father, undoubtedly. The accident today had been such a shock, it would be no wonder if it heightened Oliver’s concern.

“She will be a good support for Miss Edmonds, surely,” Ruth said. “They are closer friends, anyway.”

Mr. Bailey nodded. “It is your turn.”

“Oh, of course.” How could he concentrate on a game at a time like this? She was so eager for news. Mr. Edmonds had awakened again, yes, but in what state? Watching his horse’s hoof slide on the patch of mud and hit the ground so quickly had seized Ruth with fear. Her heart had yet to recover fully. She reached forward and slid one of her chess pieces to a new square.

Mr. Bailey gave her a strange look. He took his turn. “You impressed me yesterday, Miss Wycliffe. Not many women could witness what you did and remain calm enough to safely ride for help.”

“I have two brothers, Mr. Bailey. It was not the first time someone has been injured on a horse in my presence.”

“All the same, I commend you. Did you hear the horse is believed to have a full recovery?”

“I did, yes.” She had sent Sarah to learn the news from the grooms. “The farrier mentioned that its leg needs to be wrapped and watched closely, but he did not believe it to be a life-threatening injury.”

“A blessing, that,” Mr. Bailey said, indicating again it was her turn to move.

Ruth slid another piece to a new square .

“That was mine, Miss Wycliffe.”

She glanced down. Which one had she moved?

“The black bishop,” he told her, as though he understood the cause for her confusion.

“Ah, I see. My apologies.” She reached to move it back—where had it been before?—when Mr. Bailey’s hand rested over hers, causing her to grow still. Ruth stared at his large hand, covering her fingers entirely. She didn’t know how she felt about his powerful hand dwarfing hers. She was meant to feel excitement, was she not? Those sudsy bubbles filling her stomach earlier were missing now. Was it the horror of the accident clouding her emotions?

No. It was Emily. Upstairs, distraught, not here to see the man she loved making a declaration to another. In fact, who in the room was witness to his intentional placement? Ruth glanced toward the fireplace again and found Lady Helena watching, eyebrows slightly lifted. Oliver stood behind the sofa, speaking to Catherine, though his attention was on Ruth, his gaze smoldering with a heat that zapped up her arm with great shock.

Ruth smiled at Mr. Bailey, pulling her hand free and settling it on her lap. “Would you prefer to move it back?”

“We do not need to finish this game,” he said, smoothly recovering from her rejection. “It is perhaps not the best night for it.”

“Forgive me, Mr. Bailey. I am not good company this evening.”

“On the contrary. I have been delighted by this time spent with you.”

She smiled kindly, temptation nipping at her to ask him about the nature of his relationship with Emily. But if she’d learned anything tonight, it was that if Mr. Bailey was Emily’s secret beau, he certainly did not have the same degree of commitment to the arrangement she did .

Ruth stood. “I will go sit with my mother, then.”

“I hope to have a dance with you before we are all shuffled off to our homes, Miss Wycliffe.”

She recognized the question in his words, but her stomach was in knots. She gave him a tremulous smile and left before she could commit to anything. A proper response would have been to tell him she would have loved to dance with him, but that would have been a lie. Mr. Bailey was not at all the man she would love to dance with.

No. Oliver was.

The truth bled through her in a fissure of warmth, settling firmly in her chest. Admitting so, even to only herself, had a soothing effect on the state of her nerves, but it clouded her thoughts just as swiftly. Understanding and accepting how she felt was one thing, but did it matter when Oliver proved to regard her as a friend and sister?

“I am doing my very best not to be overly curious,” Lady Helena said quietly, leaning close to Ruth when she sat on the sofa. “But I do imagine your immediate retreat means I should not begin formulating an invitation to Harewood for a particular gentleman.”

“I would not waste time on the matter, if I were you,” Ruth said, feeling within her stomach how deeply she meant those words. Had the giddiness within her earlier been false? Anxiousness instead of hope? Or perhaps the duration of the evening had removed the drapes and allowed light to shine on her true feelings for the man.

“Pity,” Lady Helena said. She narrowed her eyes shrewdly. “Or is it?”

“A pity?” Ruth asked. “I think not. Though Papa might disagree.”

Lady Helena shifted closer. “Your papa would have enjoyed the young man’s company, but he cares far more for your happiness. You know that, darling. ”

Did she? Lately, Ruth had questioned that very thing. Papa had seemed intent on urging her toward one man or another. If she returned home without a suitor, would she be inundated with visits from Dr. Burnside?

Seated so near the fireplace, the air felt hot, suffocating her with warmth and making it difficult to breathe. Or was it the idea of returning home and facing failure again that pressed in from all sides? It was not as though Ruth intended to be troublesome. She did not want to remain at Willowbrook forever, but she wanted love . She wanted to be cared for and adored as her mother had been—though she’d not known her—and as Lady Helena now was, and her sister-in-law, Aurelia, and her dearest friend, Eliza. She wanted to dote on someone with affection the way she watched members of her family do, to love and be loved. It was the way to receive the happy life she believed she could have, but the man who came to her mind when she considered these things, the one who filled in the husband in all her daydreams, was Oliver .

Ruth could no longer deny her feelings for him, but that he did not care for her in the same way was abundantly clear.

“Ruth, what is it?” Lady Helena asked, reaching to take her hand. “You look unhappy.”

Her face revealed her emotions, then. She needed to be free of this room, but to be confined in her bedchamber was an abhorrent thought. Could she slip outside unnoticed? Take air in the garden and allow herself time to think?

“I am too warm,” she finally said, rising. Why did they have such a large fire in summer? There were other ways to expand the light in the room. It was cool outside, but not frigid.

“Do you need me to accompany you to your chamber?”

“No.” Ruth smiled to soften her words. “I need to think.”

“Of course, darling. You know how to find me if you need me.” Lady Helena looked worried. Her mouth pressed into a smile, but her eyes betrayed her .

Ruth glanced about the drawing room as she walked from it, but both Oliver and Samuel were missing. If they were packing their trunks to prepare to leave, she would soon do the same. Remaining here for another week, fending off Mr. Bailey and worrying over the state of Mr. Edmonds without the support of her friends, felt like more than she could bear.

Once she was in the corridor outside the drawing room, Ruth slipped down toward the doorway, keeping her eye out for servants. Most of them had likely been called in to assist with Mr. Edmonds, as the house felt empty. She made it to the door and let herself outside, slipping down the steps and rounding the house toward the garden. The night was fresh and crisp, the rain having left a layer of clean air behind that cooled her hot cheeks. Avoiding the obvious puddles, Ruth opened the gate into the garden and walked swiftly to reach the hedges before anyone in the drawing room thought to take air on the balcony and witnessed her.

She knew she ought not to be out here alone, but she needed to think and the air felt refreshing after the stuffy heat inside.

Ruth’s steps slowed after she found the safety of the hedges. She dropped her face in her hands and let out a soft groan, pacing the space without stopping, enjoying the exercise and movement. When she rounded the corner toward the fountain, she ran into a thick wall that let out an oomph and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Ruth gasped, drawing breath for a scream, when a hand clapped over her mouth.

“Hush, Ruth. It is only me.”

She raised her gaze and looked into the familiar darkened eyes of Oliver Rose.