Font Size:

Her hand traveled to her face and she tucked the strand of hair behind her ear, exposing the full extent of her injury once more. Kenneth hated himself for it but could not look away. The texture of the burn was so awful he could not take his eyes off of it.

No. You cannot do this to her again. Not again. She will never forgive you if…

To his great relief, the arrival of Rimbault, their butler, saved him. The man rushed into the room, through the double doors that led to the adjoining drawing room. His face flushed from the haste and his eyes wide with alarm.

“I am sorry,” he said. “Your Grace. You are needed at once.” He looked at Kenneth. “As are you, Lord Rotham.”

Father and son exchanged a glance but before either could say another word, the butler spoke again.

“There has been an accident. Lord Cragshade is gravely injured. A rider called to alert us. His carriage is on the way.”

Kenneth’s mouth dropped open at the mention of his cousin’s name, and before another word was uttered both he and his father made for the door. The moment they were outside of the drawing room they looked at one another and broke into a run. They hurried down the hall, out of the front door, and onto the driveway where a carriage was already racing toward the main entrance.

Chapter 9

The following morning Ruth stood in her chamber as Charlotte assisted her into her favorite peach-colored round dress. She loved how the small puff sleeves were embroidered with tiny garlands, the same design that was reflecting in the hem of the dress.

“Are you sure you would not like me to lay a fire? It is chilly, Lady Ruth.”

Ruth shuddered at the mention of a fire being laid and shook her head. “I am quite used to it, Charlotte. At home, it gets much colder than this in the mornings and I never have a fire, unless it is in the deepest parts of winter. Besides, it will be warming up soon enough.”

She glanced outside. The June sun was slowly creeping up over the horizon and within an hour, the outside world would be bathed in sunshine.

“Very well, Lady Ruth.” Charlotte stepped away to the armoire before glancing at her over her shoulder. Once again, Ruth was struck with the kindness in the maid’s eyes. She looked at her as though she didn’t see her scar at all. However, there was still a question in her eyes.

“I prefer not to have a fire when I can help it,” she explained. The maid smiled at her and nodded.

“I assumed. But I did not want to ask.” She returned to Ruth’s side and helped her into the dress, closing the buttons in the back.

“I meant when I told you that you can ask me anything. I much prefer it that way.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Ruth smiled and closed her eyes while Charlotte brushed her hair, pinning it up so it looked neat while allowing a curl to fall over the left side of her face. It was a style Ruth preferred, as the curl always softened the stark appearance of her scar. As she stood, she thought back to the previous evening.

It was evident that the Duchess did not much care for her at all. She’d focused entirely on Sophia, ignoring every one of Ruth’s attempts to partake in the conversation. The Marquess, on the other hand, turned out to have a side to him that was not as unpleasant as she’d feared.

He was uncomfortable being near her, as she could tell by the way he looked at her. And yet, he appeared mesmerized by her music. A fact that touched her deeply. She often found that music was her only way to connect with the world. She could make people forget her face, her fate, her story, and hear only her music.

But then, he’d risen and come to speak to her and all the magic, all the goodwill had vanished the moment he laid eyes on her scar again.

“Lady Ruth?” Charlotte looked at her with her head tilted to one side.

“Yes, I am sorry. I was deep in thought.”

The maid nodded. “I could tell. I asked which bonnet you would like to wear for your walk this morning.”

“The straw one with the flower on the band, please.” Ruth was due to walk in the garden along with her father, Sophia, and the Duchess. The Duke and his son were meant to join them, but after the arrival of the mysterious guest, plans had changed. As Charlotte returned to the armoire to retrieve it, Ruth found herself overcome with curiosity.

“Charlotte, may I ask. The young man yesterday - Lord Cragshade - who is he?”

She’d not seen the man herself but his sudden arrival, dramatic as it was, ended the evening so quickly that there was no chance to discover details.

“He is the son of His Grace’s younger brother. He owns an estate not far from here. Hawthorn Hall. He is a frequent visitor to Goldclaw Manor.”

She paused and frowned before adding in a lower voice. “It is believed he likes to endear himself to His Grace, given he is heir presumptive. Should Lord Rotham fail to have an heir, Lord Cragshade will inherit the title and the lands.”

Ruth’s eyes widened.I understand now, the need for Lord Rotham to find a wife. He is of an age where he ought to marry and given that he has no brother, it is imperative he does. I suppose that means Sophia’s chances to become Lady Rotham are rather high, indeed.