Page 63 of The Rules of Courtship
Ruth pushed the memory away and focused on guiding her horse toward the Ridley cottage where her dearest friend, Eliza, lived with her husband and their young apprentice, Peter. Her groom followed, waiting outside with Rosaline while Ruth knocked on the door.
Eliza opened it, surprised. “I thought you were at the house party for another week.”
“There was an accident that caused Lord Rocklin to politely ask us all to leave. It was an ordeal.”
“Goodness. Come in.”
Ruth stepped into the warm cottage, glad the windows were open to let in a breeze. “Oliver was racing with another gentleman—Mr. Edmonds, do you know him?”
Eliza shook her head, waddling toward the settee and lowering herself beside a set of knitting needles and a lump of yarn. Her stomach had seemed to grow in just the last few weeks. She puffed up her red cheeks, looking mildly uncomfortable. But she merely pulled her knitting onto her lap and looked at Ruth expectantly.
Ruth sat in the chair opposite her and explained Mr. Edmonds’s injury and the subsequent termination of the house party. “His sister was there with him, but without knowing the state of his health, we couldn’t very well dance on the floor below where he laid.”
“No, I imagine not.”
“How have you been?” Ruth asked.
“Ready to not have little legs kicking me from the inside,” Eliza said. She lowered her knitting and let out another puff of air. “I cannot sleep very well, and I am always uncomfortable. None of that matters. I just want to hold my babe in my arms so badly, I am feverish for it.”
Ruth smiled. “Hopefully, she will arrive soon.”
“She?”
“There are enough little boys in Harewood. We could use a girl.”
Eliza laughed. “Not too soon. I’ve over a month left to wait. How did things go with my cousins?”
Ruth shrugged, glancing away. “Samuel and I have made something of a truce. We learned we are not compatible, but Ididtry, Lizzie. I did away with my rules for a time and gave him an opportunity to prove me wrong. It had the benefit of vastly improving our friendship, though, so I cannot regret it.”
Eliza nodded. “I expected as much, but I thought it was worth exploring. He is a good man.”
“And a funny one,” Ruth added. “Clever, handsome, and kind.”
“But not…enough?” Eliza asked.
“It is not that.” Ruth drew in a breath for courage. “He is not Oliver.”
Eliza dropped her knitting on the floor, staring at her friend. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“We are engaged,” Ruth said.
Eliza’s mouth fell open. “You did not think tobeginour conversation with that?”
“It is not a real engagement.” Ruth stood, pacing to the small, square window. She needed air. “We were found kissing in the garden?—”
“Kissing!”
“—and Oliver contrived the engagement to save my reputation. Nothing more.”
“Kissing?” Eliza repeated. “Now you really must start from the beginning.”
Ruth turned back to face her, leaning against the wall.
“But first, can you pick up my needles?” Eliza asked. “I can no longer bend that far.”
When the entiretyof the ordeal was explained to Eliza in excruciating detail, Ruth continued to tell her of the ride she had shared with Oliver two days previously and the second kiss that had transpired.
“He was acting strangely,” Ruth admitted, “but that cannot be helped. His father is dying.”
