Page 33 of The Rules of Courtship
Ruth glanced up to see that most of the house party had already left the drawing room; they were nearly alone. Jane glanced over her shoulder, giving them a curious look, but soon disappeared.
“Yes, I thank you.” Ruth took Samuel’s arm and followed him, her mind whirling.
“One thing to come out of this house party is our restored friendship, Ruth. If nothing else, I do believe that is worth the time and effort I’ve put into being here.”
He spoke as though he would soon be leaving, but the undercurrent in his words provided a great amount of relief. He was not going to sacrifice her friendship to the awkwardness of what had happened in the garden yesterday.
“Thank you, Samuel,” she said, grateful he had already forgiven her. She was embarrassed for confiding those feelings to Oliver. It made her a gossip, something she had vowed never to become after watching it ruin her dearest friend Eliza’s life for years. She ought to have respected Samuel more than that and been honest with him from the beginning.
“I wrote you a letter, you know,” she said, after she had taken her seat and waited for Samuel to lower himself into the chair beside her. She glanced down the table to see Oliver sitting beside Catherine, smiling kindly and listening attentively to her.
Hurt, hot and swift, flooded her. When had he entered the drawing room, and why had he not greeted Ruth? The last time she had spoken to him was before Samuel found them in the garden, and he had been perfectly normal before then.
Ruth looked at Samuel and found him waiting expectantly. Had he asked her a question? “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t attending.”
“I wondered what you meant,” he pressed. “You said you wrote me a letter.”
“Oh, that. I didn’t know if you would speak to me tonight, so my plan was to slip the letter beneath your door so you would be forced to read my apology if you would not be willing to hear it.”
Samuel pushed his golden hair from his forehead. He looked so intently at her, it made Ruth wonder if she had something on her face.
“May I see it?” he asked.
“Well, we have spoken now, so it would only repeat the things I’ve said to you.”
“Yes, of course.” He hesitated. “I am just curious.”
Ruth was tempted to refuse him, but if that was what he needed to heal and fully move past the discomfort between them, she supposed there was no harm to it.
Only, they could not be seen passing a note, or there would surely be a scandal on their hands. Ruth smoothed down her pink dress over her knees, lifting the glove where she had hidden the letter and slipping it off. She let the glove and the letter fall to the floor.
“Oh, dear me. I’ve dropped my glove.”
“Allow me.” Samuel reached down to pick it up for her, surprise briefly flashing over his eyes before he covered it again. He really was a master of his emotions. Ruth was jealous of the skill. She also wondered how much of his carelessness was a facade meant to distract from his real feelings.
When he straightened, Ruth didn’t see him hide the letter. “Do you have it?” she whispered.
“I do.” His blue eyes tracked her. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Settling her glove on her lap again, she did herbest to enjoy her dinner and not speak of Oliver for the rest of the meal.
Oliver had disappeared.Again.
It was growing tiresome, his running away. If Samuel was not angry with her, then what could Oliver possibly be holding against Ruth? It was quite clear he was avoiding her in particular, and it hurt. What had she done to drive him away?
At dinner, he spoke with Catherine on his left and Jane on his right, entertaining both and laughing at their jokes. Ruth had even seen him smile at Lady Helena when the women left the men to their smoking and port.
Not once had he glanced in Ruth’s direction. She had been staring at him, too, hoping to force him into looking at her. Evidently, her powers of will were not strong enough.
The men had just joined them in the drawing room, and Ruth watched them file in from the sofa where she sat with her mother and Mrs. Watson. Samuel, Mr. Edmonds, Mr. Bailey, Mr. Kellinger, Mr. Watson, and Lord Rocklin. No Oliver.
“Shall we have our constellation competition tonight?” Jane asked, standing when the men joined them.
“What exactly will we be competing over?” Emily asked.
“The proper question,” Mr. Bailey said, glancing at Ruth, “is what are we competingfor?”
“We could play for forfeits?” Catherine suggested.
