He bowed and took the reins, leading the horse away as he walked toward the stable yard.
Ruth stood outside the manor, her heart beating out of her chest. It wasn’t until she turned to make her way inside that she experienced the odd sensation she was so familiar with. Someone was watching her.
She glanced up at the balcony. It, along with the other balconies in the manor, always stood out to her as it was clear the wrought iron railings, delicate and ornate, were late additions, compared to the older style of the rest of the house.
Although today it was not the balcony or the architecture which drew her attention. It was the man who stood upon the balcony, looking down at her with his eyebrows raised and his head tilted to one side. It was Lord Cragshade, still dressed in the same attire he’d worn that morning.
They locked eyes for just one moment before she looked away, her heart beating once more, although this time for entirely different reasons. The young man unsettled her. Not just because of the way he peered down at her but also because she felt sure he’d seen the entire exchange between herself and Lord Rotham.
Even though nothing untoward occurred, her feelings for Lord Rotham were burning within her so strongly she was almost positive they would be palpable to an outsider.
When she glanced up again, she found the man gone and the balcony deserted. With a sigh, she made her way inside the manor, telling herself there was nothing she could do about the matter now.
* * *
Several hours later, Ruth sat in the music room behind the harp, gently plucking on the strings to elicit the gentle sounds she craved to hear.
She’d spent the entire afternoon attempting to calm her racing thoughts, first by reading and then by walking the halls of the manor aimlessly. She’d almost encountered first Lord Cragshade, and then the Duchess, who’d returned from her outing with Sophia entirely unsatisfied due to the poor weather.
Ruth avoided both encounters by ducking behind a statue, many of which lined the hall on either side of the grand staircase. She was not in any mood to converse with either one of them.
At last, she’d realized there was but one remedy for her upheaval. Music.
Music was always her sanctuary, her safe haven – no matter where she was. However, even music would not allow her the escape she so craved. As she played, the image of Lord Rotham appeared in her mind again and again. His words both serious and light-hearted returned to her mind.
I must stop myself from having these thoughts. It is not right. I cannot allow myself to be so foolish as to think he considers me a possible match. I am but the companion of my sister.
“Ruth?” Her father’s gentle voice sounded out from the arched doorway. She glanced up. He was standing there dressed in his favored breeches and stockings which showed off his top boots. His waistcoat was double-breasted with buttons made of engraved copper. She smiled whenever she saw them. The buttons came from a waistcoat gifted him by their mother the year before her death.
When the garment no longer fit – due to her father’s appetite for plum cakes and marzipan – he’d instructed the seamstresses to remove the buttons and incorporate them in a new waistcoat. A process he’d since repeated multiple times.
She always found herself tearing up when she saw him wear any item given to him by her mother.
“Papa.” She smiled and rose, moving toward the chaise in the far end of the room where he joined her.
“You seem a little distracted today,” he commented. When she frowned, he explained further. “I can always tell when your mind is occupied by the way you play. And today, your thoughts were entirely elsewhere.”
She sighed, shaking her head. She could often hide her moods and feelings from her sister, but her father had a penchant for reading her as though she were an open book.
“I was lost in thought, but it does not matter.”
He placed a hand on her arm. “Of course, it matters. Anything that bothers either of my daughters is of concern to me.” He grew serious and shook his head as a thought came to him. “You are out of sorts because the Duchess favors Sophia? I have noticed it also and I do not like it at all. Neither does His Grace. He has a mind to speak to his wife regarding the matter.”
Ruth’s eyes grew wide and she raised her hands as if to stop him.
“No, Papa. Please, ask him not to say anything. I do not care for the Duchess, to tell you the truth. Nor does she care for me. Let Sophia enjoy her company as she seems to bask in the attention.”
Her father shrugged and pushed a strand of greying hair out of his face.
“Very well. If it is not the Duchess, then what is the matter? Has something occurred? I feel as though I have not seen you all day. I am sorry for leaving you to your own devices, especially after you told me how unhappy you are here.”
She smiled, placing her hand over his. “I did not mind at all today. I required solitude. In fact, I was able to visit the chapel today and play the organ.” She hesitated and decided not to tell him of the unfortunate events surrounding the candle.
“You were at the chapel? During the storm?”
She nodded. “I was. I requested the maid and coachman leave me there so I might gather my thoughts.”
He sighed and shook his head, withdrawing his hand. “Ruth, Ruth, Ruth. You know I do not like it when you set off on your own adventures without anyone in attendance. Especially in such a storm.”