Page 25 of The Rules of Courtship
Miss Temple seemed to warm to the idea. “We should go outside and look at them right now.”
Mr. Edmonds looked to the door Ruth had just disappeared through. “Or perhaps we can do it tomorrow and make a game of spotting the constellations.”
“Why can we not make a game of it now?” his sister asked.
He held her gaze for a moment.
“There is no reason we cannot go out to the balcony now,”Miss Temple said. “Then set a constellation activity for tomorrow night as well.”
“Very well.” Miss Edmonds rose. “We shall have the advantage for the additional time tonight.”
Oliver had watched the conversation volley swiftly until he found himself standing on the balcony that led out from the drawing room, overlooking the dark hills and clusters of trees surrounding the distant stream. The stars were bright, their light shining like speckled white paint across a navy canvas. He was surprised Miss Edmonds preferred this over beginning the book she had selected. She had put off starting it for the duration of four rounds of whist already.
Miss Edmonds drew in a sharp breath. “Incredible.”
“Indeed. It makes you wish you lived in the country, does it not?” her brother said.
She looked at Oliver before returning her gaze to the sky. “It does.”
Sometimes Oliver struggled to understand what the fairer sex meant to imply by their subtle looks and turns of phrase, but in this particular instance, Miss Edmonds could not have been clearer.
She wanted to live in the country, on an estate, in a comfortable home with horses at her disposal. Currently, she believed Oliver—or more accurately, Boone Park—was her ticket to achieving that goal. If she had three thousand pounds in a marriage settlement, she could be the answer he needed as well. But why did she seem to lose interest and look away from him, her attention elsewhere? Her meaning was clear, but something wasn’t quite right.
He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat and pinned his gaze to the sky. If there was a reason he shouldn’t consider Miss Edmonds, he needed to know.
This was why he had made the arrangement with Ruth. It was up to her to find out for him.
Chapter Nine
Rule #9: Beware of those whose accomplishments lie in the art of cunning, and not in the way of a perfect back stitch
The following morning, Lord Rocklin took the gentlemen on a fishing excursion just after breakfast, leaving the women to embroider together indoors, safely away from fresh air and sunlight. Ruth sat on a long sofa beside her stepmother, doing her best to embroider a sweet blue songbird to the corner of a handkerchief. She positioned the needle and pushed it through, pricking her finger for the third time that morning. She hissed through her teeth at the unexpected pain.
“Not again.” Lady Helena eyed her finger through dark lashes. “Are you distracted?”
Ruth pressed her fingers together, waiting for the pain to subside. “Not terribly. You know I’m not skilled with a needle.” She glanced at the sofa across from her, where the other three young ladies sat quietly, producing beautiful little works of art with ease. They were dressed similarly—pale pink, lavender, andblue, a perfect portrait of sweetness. What man would look upon that scene and not instantly deem them acceptable?
Each of them was accomplished in the art of embroidery. Ruth was, at best, tolerable. This morning, she would describe her skill as dangerous. It wasn’t a skill she cared to have, really, but it wasn’t lost on her that the search for a husband could be shortened when one possessed a lengthy set of desirable accomplishments. For some reason, embroidery was on that list. Heaven knew why.
“You have other talents,” Lady Helena said, suppressing a smile. She must have noticed the direction of Ruth’s forlorn gaze.
Ruth’s attention snapped back to the songbird she was attempting to stitch. “My first mistake was believing I could create a recognizable creature,” she muttered, tilting the embroidery hoop slightly. The bird’s rounded beak bore an unfortunate resemblance to a potato. She ought to have stitched a flower instead—one long stem, five petals, and she would have been done.
As she moved on to the feathers around the eyes, she questioned her sanity. She should have given up long ago. No one would choose to use this hideous handkerchief, least of all herself.
Lady Helena’s attention had returned to Mrs. Watson, seated on her other side. They had first connected as girls during the London Season years ago. Once they had married, Mrs. Watson moved with her husband to Devonshire, and they had not seen one another as frequently after that.
Ruth grew restless. The men had been gone for little over an hour, so the likelihood of their returning soon was slim. If she were forced to participate in needlework for another quarter of an hour, she might go mad.
If only she hadn’t overslept and missed the morning ride. She hoped Oliver hadn’t waited for her, though she hadn’t hadthe chance to ask before being dragged into the parlor by Miss Temple.
Ruth cast another glance at the young ladies. Catherine was speaking quietly to Miss Edmonds, who listened with her embroidery forgotten in her lap. The Temple twins seemed to be close friends with Miss Edmonds, as expected from women so like-minded and similarly talented.
Jane lowered her embroidery to her lap. “We ought to have a competition.”
Of embroidery? If that was the case, Ruth would undoubtedly lose.
“If you plan too many competitions, you’ll exhaust yourself before the end of the fortnight,” Catherine warned.
