“It was very kind of you to offer to repair the box. Alas, it seems it is gone. And thus, your afternoon is once again free.”
“If you care to accompany us, Her Grace and I will leave within the hour,” Sophia added with a hopeful smile.
Kenneth rose and nodded at her. “I will see if my afternoon schedule allows it. I do wish to be available for the physician, as I want to ensure your sister’s wound is tended to. However, if you have not yet left, I might accompany you. Has anyone alerted your father as to the accident?”
Sophia shook her head; the anger gave way to disappointment.
“Well, I ought to. If you will excuse me.” He bowed to both of them then departed, leaving the sisters alone in the room.
“You are upset,” Ruth said once his footsteps had faded.
Sophia shrugged. “It seems Lord Rotham is eager to avoid my company, no matter how hard I try to get his attention. And yet, he seems to be at your side at a moment’s notice.”
“Sophia…I was injured. He took care of me because of that, and no other reason.”
She dared not look in her sister’s eyes for fear she might see the lie written across her face.
“I do not mean to be cross. It is dreadful the box is broken. I know how much you value it. But, at the same time, he is the man I am to marry, and he cares so little for me. It hurts to see him pay attention to you. I know I am petty for saying it.”
Ruth reached her hand out to her sister and squeezed it. She did not know just what to say. All of their lives it had been Sophia who received the attention, who was praised for her poise and beauty. No man ever paid attention to Ruth. She was an addition, an afterthought. Until now. Until Lord Rotham. Kenneth.
A wave of guilt washed over her as she realized she was thinking of him as a man she could love. A man she could adore. When in reality, he was meant to be Sophia’s future husband. And yet, as shocking and, unbelievable as it was, he seemed to want her. Her! Despite her scar. Despite everything.
I cannot be the cause for Sophia’s upset. There could never be a future for a man like him and a lady such as myself. I am not what he needs. He must know it. It is her he needs. It is her who has the beauty of a Duchess, not me.
“Please, do not be upset. I am sure he does not mean to slight you. He is simply attentive and perhaps feels guilty because of how he reacted to me the first time we met.”
Her sister got up. “It is quite all right; all will be well.” She leaned forward and hugged Ruth, the scent of her rosewater perfume lingering in the air even after she let go.
“Lord Rotham is right. A physician should tend to you and so should Papa. As for me, I am sure the Duchess and I will enjoy ourselves on our ride, whether he joins us or not. I must get ready and change into my riding habit, but I will see you at dinner, yes?”
She made her way through the adjoining door to her chamber, leaving Ruth alone.
She sat alone for a moment, pondering what to do next. She didn’t want her sister to be upset. They’d never once been cross with one another, not seriously. There’d been spats over toys or dresses in their youth, but after the fire, they’d been united. Ruth still remembered the first few nights when she’d been unable to sleep because of the pain. She remembered screaming and crying until she was too exhausted to do so anymore.
She remembered whimpering, shivering, begging, and praying. And she remembered she’d never been alone. For even though her father, who tended to her constantly, forbade Sophia from being with Ruth, she had been.
In the middle of the night, when their father was asleep in the armchair by the window, exhausted from tending to his badly burnt daughter, Sophia would sneak into the room. She’d hold Ruth’s hand and sing to her in her soft voice, she’d tell her stories and bring her toys to cheer her.
It was those visits, the clandestine, forbidden visits her sister would pay her night after night, that helped Ruth overcome the painful, never-ending days and agonizing nights. It was her sister who kept her will to live alive.
No, no man would ever separate them. If losing Sophia was the price Ruth would have to pay for her chance at happiness, it was too steep a price to even consider. Nothing and nobody would come between them. Ruth wouldn’t allow it.
“Lady Ruth?” Charlotte’s voice sounded out from the door. She was carrying a tray with a cup of chamomile tea and a small plate of marzipan. “Molly just told me what’s happened. I am so sorry.”
She frowned at this. “Molly? I thought my sister told you.”
Charlotte placed the tray down. “Lady Sophia? No. I’ve not seen her all day.”
Ruth’s mouth dropped open.
“I must have misunderstood her. I thought she said she asked you about the shards of my patch box and …”
“These?” Charlotte stuck her hand into her apron’s front pocket and pulled out five pieces of porcelain. Ruth’s eyes grew wide.
“Yes! That is it.”
The maid’s face darkened. “It was downstairs, set by the pile of broken items that the footmen bury in the ditch every three months. I recognized it and thought you might want it. I couldn’t imagine you’d sent it down, fond as you are of it. I picked it up to ask you before it was to be buried.”
