Page 30 of The Rules of Courtship
Or of Wycliffe.
Ruth waited for a response. “I suppose it is not a requirement,” Oliver said, “but it would be ideal.”
“Well, I hope you find it.” Her gaze lowered to the grass at their feet. “On the same note, there might be a man who returns Miss Edmonds’s feelings, but she wouldn’t tell me who.” Ruth cringed. “Oh dear, I am sharing too much.”
“Not at all. Do you want me to discover who he might be?”
“I would like to save myself from foolishly falling for a man whose feelings are otherwise engaged. If you learn of anyone who might not be open to an arrangement, I hope you will tell me.”
“Of course, I will.” He reached forward and took her gloved hand, squeezing her fingers gently.
“I think I know who it is,” Ruth continued, seemingly heedless to his touch. “Unless you have something you wish to tell me about yourself.”
Oliver released her hand. She honestly wondered if the man in question washim? “No, Ruth. I do not have anything to reveal.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes framed by dark lashes.
“What of Samuel?” he asked, desperate to remove thebuzzing feeling in his stomach, like it had become home to an army of bees. “Have you enjoyed spending time with him?”
“There has been a measure of enjoyment, yes.” She smiled, though a small crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Perhaps I’ve been too eager to push him away before now. I’d forgotten what a lovely friend he can be.”
It took everything within Oliver to pretend he enjoyed hearing that. On the one hand, he liked that their friendship was mending. But it frightened him, too. “Perhaps this house party will be good for you both.”
“Do not mistake me, Oliver. I don’t think I will ever feel romantic love for him.”
There was a rustle behind them, and they turned to find Samuel standing in the walkway, half-hidden by the tall hedge. A carefully guarded expression covered his face.
Blast. How much had he overheard?
Ruth’s face flushed scarlet.
“Do not worry,” Samuel said lightly, offering a flippant smile as he took a step closer. “It is nothing I haven’t heard from you many times before, dear Ruth.”
So he had heard enough.
Ruth’s brows knit together, concern flashing in her blue eyes. “Oh, Sam?—”
“No, truly,” he said, holding her gaze. “I think we can all agree it is time I gave up the chase, eh?”
Silence, thick and full of unspoken things, hung between them like a heavy cloud.
Guilt washed over Ruth’s face. She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. “It is time for me to return to my mother. She will be wondering where I am.”
If the woman preferred embroidery to speaking to them at present, her embarrassment was more complete than Oliver had realized.
The men watched her walk away, her skirts swishing fromquick steps. When she was through the garden and mounting the shallow steps toward the back veranda of the house, Oliver let out a breath. “How are you?” he asked.
“Not in need of a nursemaid.”
“Samuel, I?—”
“Honestly,” he said sharply. “You know, I’ve wondered these last few days why you have not made your feelings quite known. Are you afraid of hearing the same rebuff she gives to me?”
Oliver’s heart thudded in his chest. Surely his cousin could hear the beating like a drum echoing through the garden. “Feelings? She is like a younger sister to me.”
Samuel gave him a look that implied how well he knew otherwise, his eyes narrowing slightly, his mouth flat. “I’ve seen the way you watch her, Oliver. You might be fooling yourself, but you are not hiding your feelings from me.”
Oliver sighed. His pulse thrummed, partly from the impulse to deny everything. Attraction aside, he didn’t have deep feelings for Ruth. He couldn’t.
