Page 23 of The Rules of Courtship
He supposed this was a good time to approach her. He could apologize for being aloof earlier when he should have introduced himself, but what good would that do? Someone else had done the honors, and he hadn’t spoken a word to her since. No, he needn’t remind her of his impolite behavior. Oliver needed a wife, heneededfunds, and there were respectable, eligible ladies in this very room. It was time he took his hunt more seriously. He had spent so much time thinking about Ruth, he had allowed his own prospects to fall to the very bottom of his priorities and get lost among the dust.
Oliver pulled at his cuffs and straightened his waistcoat as hecrossed the room. Miss Edmonds remained beside the bookcase, her hands clasped lightly in front of her while she appeared to search the spines.
“Are you looking for one in particular?” Oliver asked.
She didn’t startle, so she must have seen him approach, but her eyes remained on the books. “I was hoping to find something that might catch my interest, but thus far, the vast majority seem to be about agriculture or sermons.” She gave him a faint smile. “Not exactly what I had in mind for pleasant reading.”
“Not nearly as exciting as a novel.”
“It does not need to be a novel. I could find interest in a history,” she said, “or perhaps a book of poetry.”
A lock of her raven hair had fallen from her coiffure and trailed down the back of her slender neck. She was pretty in an understated way, her delicate and wispy features reminding him of the porcelain doll his grandmother had kept on her bedroom mantle. Miss Edmonds’s brown eyes flicked to him. “Are you an accomplished reader?”
“Not unless you consider agricultural books to be considered accomplishments,” he said dryly. “The majority of my time recently has been spent improving my estate.”
Miss Edmonds turned toward him, her shoulders facing him more. She was carefully guarding her expression, but her body communicated that he had piqued her interest. “Would I have heard of it?” she asked.
“Doubtfully. I only inherited earlier this year. I’ve lived in the house with my grandmother my entire life. Now it has fallen on me to keep the crop rotations and livestock from utterly collapsing,” he hedged. It wouldn’t do to give the impression he was flush in the pocket. “It has not been too great a burden, though.”
“No, I imagine the burden was in needing to read multiple books about agriculture.”
Oliver laughed. “The year would have been much more pleasantly passed with decent novels instead. I agree. Though I’ve enjoyed the challenge. Mr. Wycliffe, my neighbor, has been an excellent source of knowledge and advice. He’s certainly saved me from ruin. I hadn’t the faintest idea what I was doing when my grandmother first granted me control.”
“You must be very grateful to him.” She looked across the room, likely searching for Ruth or Lady Helena.
Oliver took great restraint to avoid doing the same.
“I have lived in London for the last few years,” Miss Edmonds said. “Except for the occasional visit to the country when we are invited, I haven’t left Town at all. I miss living on an estate with sunlight and land.”
Oliver would go mad if he was forced to live in London all year—or any large town, for that matter. He needed his daily rides and fresh air as much as his body needed food and sleep. The houses and buildings in London were so stacked upon each other, there was nowhere to feel the enormity of the earth. Only people—too many people.
London was manageable for a short time, but nothing more than the Season or a quick visit. “It must be a great trial to feel so confined.”
“Indeed, there are times I wish I could ride my horse across the valleys, but then recall that we no longer have horses or valleys at our disposal.” She gave a rueful smile, shaking her head.
Oliver could not imagine being forced to give up riding, but he felt saying so wouldn’t be polite. Instead, he turned his attention to the shelf and noticed a set ofThe Female Quixote. Reaching for the first volume, he pulled it down and turned the cover over. “Have you read this one?”
Miss Edmonds shook her head. “No, but I would like to.” She accepted it, flipping to the title page. “The Adventures of Arabella,” she read. “I’ve heard this is quite amusing.”
“In that case, if you do not enjoy the book, you cannot lay the blame at my feet.”
“On the contrary. You found it on the shelf, so you will be entirely at fault for my wasted hours if it is a miserable read.”
“Well, I hope it isn’t.”
Mr. Edmonds approached, looking very much like his sister, and glanced between them with mild interest. What was his financial situation? If Miss Edmonds had been forced to move to London and give up her horses, surely she did not have a decent portion awaiting a marriage. But if her parents had tied up a dowry, protecting it, then perhaps…
“We are forming a table for whist,” Mr. Edmonds said, drawing Oliver’s attention. “I need another set. Would you both like to join us?”
Oliver looked to the card table where Ruth and her mother had been sitting. They were still there, but another table had been brought in beside it, where Miss Jane sat shuffling cards. Samuel stood behind Ruth’s chair, speaking to Lady Helena, so he must have opted not to play. Again, the sense of envy snaked through Oliver’s stomach, but he shoved it aside. “I would like that very much. Miss Edmonds?”
She curled the novel under her arm before placing her hand on his proffered elbow. Her eyes searched his for a moment in a manner more weighted than he was used to. “I would like that very much.”
Oh, dear. She had undoubtedly been conveying something to him, and Oliver, being a man, hadn’t the faintest idea what she wanted him to understand. He swallowed, leading her toward the whist table and doing his best to appear interested in what she was saying about the last book she had read.
Courting took a significant amount of effort. He needed help. Wasn’t Ruth supposed to narrow down his list of women? He wanted her advice and insight. Glancing at her as he took hisseat at the whist table, he decided that a private conversation with Ruth was in order.
Perhaps on horseback, in the quiet of the morning, when they could be alone.
