A tingle spread across Ruth’s cheek as her breath quickened. He was looking at her - she knew it. When she turned her head, she found herself at once proven right. Kenneth was looking at her. She raised a hand to her mouth, covering her lips slightly as she smiled at him. Just as they locked eyes across the table, Sophia’s voice rang out.
“Perhaps it would be for the best if you rest your hand, Ruth. I would not want you to strain yourself, and I have a lovely book of poems to read from.”
Ruth tilted her head to one side and blinked at her sister as she folded her hands on her lap, her shoulders straight.
“It is quite all right, Sophia. As I said, I am well enough. The cut on my hand is low on my palm and my fingers are not at all affected.”
The sisters were locked in a stare-off, a game they engaged in as children, although now it did not feel innocent or playful at all. They were interrupted by the Duchess who placed her napkin down on the table.
“Lady Sophia, perhaps…”
“Oh, dear! Ruth! Look out!” Her father called with alarm.
Ruth saw the unfolding calamity before her the moment she looked at the table. Someone had knocked the bottle of merlot and the red liquid was roaring down the table like a river.
She jumped up just as the wine cascaded down the side of the table like a waterfall, but saw it was too late. Her beautiful peach-colored dress was drenched, a stain running down to the hem.
“Oh dear, you had best attend to this right away, Lady Ruth, lest a stain remains.” The Duchess smiled at Ruth, but her eyes remained cold and unmoving.
Ruth rose, excused herself, and dashed out of the room.
As she ran up the steps, Ruth could not help but wonder how the bottle came to fall in the first place. Who knocked it over? Was it on accident or on purpose?
She hated to even entertain the thought, but Sophia was the person closest to the bottle. Could she be so mean? Her gentle, sweet sister? Could envy have turned her into such a terrible creature as to humiliate her sister?
And what of Lord Cragshade? He delighted in mortifying Ruth with his inappropriate comments and blatant stares.
How, she thought, was it possible that she was in such a situation at all? First the patch box, and now this. Someone wanted to vex her. But who? And why?
Chapter 22
Unable to fall asleep, Kenneth rose and headed to the one place he could find entertainment at this late hour. The library.
Located on the floor below his chamber he made his way through his ancestral home. Illuminated only by a few flickering candles, he passed through the dark halls toward the brightly lit library. He frowned as he stepped through the arched doorway, wondering just who could be awake at this late hour, besides him.
His breath caught in his chest as he spotted her. Seated a fair distance from the roaring fireplace, she was bent over a book. Her hair usually restrained atop her head or obscured by a bonnet or cap, hung over her shoulders, a nightcap sitting on the table beside her. The dancing embers behind her gave her an almost ethereal appearance.
Just the sight of her fills me with delight. I had given up hope of seeing her tonight and being able to converse with her. The yearning I experienced all evening for her took me by surprise. It seems Jack is right; love does come upon you suddenly and quickly.
He tapped his fingers against one of the mahogany bookcases, alerting her to his presence.
“Lord Rotham.” She flipped the book onto the table.
He felt his heart beating faster as he approached her. “I did not mean to disturb you. I was unable to sleep and thus found my way here, as I often do.”
“You did not disturb me at all. I’m finding it exceedingly difficult to concentrate. I am reading the same page over and over again. I was about to give it up for the night.”
“Then it is lucky I arrived when I did.” Dimples appeared on his cheeks as he looked at her with a soft smile.
The chirping of crickets drifted inside from the open window, filling the space between them.
“I hoped to see you in the drawing room this evening. I was disappointed when you did not rejoin our party.”
Her slender shoulders rose and fell before she replied. “I must confess, my ego was mortally wounded by the event. And I was unsettled by it all. I knew if I returned, I would have to make good on my promise to your father to play a piece of music. My mind was simply not in a state beneficial to playing.”
“I understand.” Her words had a softness to them, a melody that complimented her pleasant countenance perfectly. “However, your absence made for a rather boring evening.”
She flinched at this. “Did not my sister’s reading entertain you?”
