Page 2 of The Rules of Courtship
“Nonsense, you are here now. Give your horse to Jameson and we can talk inside.”
Oliver glanced at Burnside.
“The doctor was just leaving,” Papa explained.
The Wycliffe groom, Jameson, led Dr. Burnside’s horse to the mounting block. The men bade stiff farewells before the doctor mounted his horse and left. Ruth’s body relaxed with Dr. Burnside’s retreat, grateful the moment he turned the bend out of sight.
Well, that was intriguing. Whatever did Oliver hold against the good doctor?
“I must speak to Jameson about my horse,” Oliver said. “Shall I meet you inside?”
Papa was already walking toward the house. “Very well, son. Come to my study when you are ready.”
The ease and comfort between them would have been envy-inducing if Ruth was a lesser person. The tight coiling of her stomach now was likely due to the apple and not jealousy, of course.
When Oliver disappeared into the stables, Ruth released a sigh of relief. Her hand relaxed and the apple fell, hitting a branch on its journey to the ground. Ruth sucked in a breath, holding still. Papa’s stride did not slow—he must not have heard her. When another minute passed undisturbed, she allowed herself to relax. Only a few minutes more. Oliver would cross the drive to the house, and she could crawl down?—
“What are you doing, Ruth?”
She squealed, the sound catching her by surprise. Twisting to see who had spoken behind her, she slid from the branch and fell hard on the one just below it. She clutched the trunk to keep from falling to the ground, the rough bark digging into her palms. Why had she forgotten her gloves?
Oliver leaped forward, but halted when it seemed she’d gained stability.
“You oughtn’t sneak up on a woman in a tree,” she said through her teeth.
“Perhaps you oughtn’tbeinthe tree,” he countered, tilting his head and blinking at her. His green eyes were unusually bright in the sunlight, reminding her of fresh spring grass. No—ofweeds. He was in her black books at present. “Is Burnside truly so abominable?”
Amusement and outrage both flashed hot within her. “I’ll have you know my current situation has nothing at all to do with Dr. Burnside. I was…in need of a treat for Rosaline.”
He reached up and plucked a perfectly good apple from the lowest branch. “Your horse needed the highest apples available? These low-hanging fruits are not good enough for Rosaline?”
“They are…riddled with disease,” she lied.
Oliver rubbed the apple against his waistcoat and took a large bite, keeping his eyes on her while he chewed and swallowed. “Seems perfectly acceptable to me, but what do I know about the whims of spoiled horses?”
“Spoiled! That’s rich, coming from you. Did you not feed Apollo by hand for the entire summer after he was born?”
Amusement shone in his dark green eyes. “Can I help you down now, or are you determined to stick to your story?”
“I do not know what you mean by that, Oliver. I have exactly what I came up here for.” She gripped the branch tightly and searched for a place to rest her feet, seeing her apple resting in the dirt. Blast. Or rather, shehadwhat she came here for. “Though I would certainly appreciate some privacy.”
Oliver dutifully turned his back to her.
Ruth found a place to stand and lowered herself another level. The tricky thing was that while she had climbed this tree more times than she could count, never before had she attempted to climb down in a habit with such a long train. Shegathered the fabric and pushed it to the side, hoping it would allow her boots ample space to securely grip the branch.
“Do you need help?” Oliver asked, beginning to face her again.
“Privacy,” she reiterated. He immediately put his back to her again. With her skirts this high, he most certainly shouldn’t look. “I only need to find…the right…place…”
“Ruth,” he said, drawing her name out with faint disapproval. “I can help you.”
He could, but then she would have to face him and the reality that she wasn’t able to climb down on her own. Ruth was much too stubborn for that. “Why are you here?” she asked, hoping to distract him long enough to find a good path down.
He seemed to hesitate briefly before answering. “Well, since you should ask, I came to see you.”
Ruth’s foot slid, making her fall again. She clutched the trunk, but her leg stung. She’d scraped it. Drat her pride.
“Then you might as well help me down,” she conceded. Her knee needed attending, but she wouldn’t tell him so.
