Page 46 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
Ruth glanced at her sharply. “Indeed. But what will happen when my dear uncle departs this life, Ara? Have you ever thought about it?” Her voice trembled. “No, of course you have not. You and my aunt shall be well provided for, in the event. But I have no money of my own, and I have no certainty that I shall have enough to live on, even if my uncle is generous enough to leave me a small amount…”
Ara gazed at her in shock. “Whatever happens, my father shall not leave you destitute, Ruth. And you must know that you would always have a home with me, in any case…”
Ruth’s gaze was withering. “Oh, yes, of course! But do I want to be an old maid, dependent on my cousin’s generosity forever? Have you ever considered that I might like to control my own destiny, and be the mistress of my own fate? To have my own home, and family?”
Ara was speechless. It was true. She had simply never thought it through, what might happen to Ruth eventually. She had never really thought about any of it.
“It is not fair,” said Ruth. “You carry on about not wanting a husband, and sabotage all my aunt’s efforts, but you never think that I not only desire one, butneedone, cousin.”
Ara stared at her sadly. It was indeed hard to hear Ruth talk like this. To hear how practical she had to be about finding a husband who could support her. It was especially hard to hear it, because she knew what a romantic Ruth was. Her cousin desired to fall in love, yet at the same time as she knew that she had to be pragmatic about marriage.
Ara sighed, not knowing what to say anymore. It seemed that simply being a young lady in this society was fraught with difficulties. She had always spurned the idea of a husband, which was socially unacceptable. But Ruth was trying to do what society told her a young lady must, and it was still difficult for her.
It seemed that everything they did, came back to men.
“I didnotintend what happened last night,” she told her cousin. “I did not engineer it to cause a scandal, and finish our season. I am sorry for all of it. I am especially sorry it has caused you so much pain, Ruth…”
But her cousin turned her face away. “What does it matter now if you are sorry or not? The die has been cast, and we must return to Dorset. It shall be another year before I have another chance now…”
She walked away quickly, back towards the staircase.
“Ruth,” called Ara desperately. “Please, can we not be friends? I hate it when you are angry with me…”
Ruth stopped, gazing back at her. “I have packing to do, cousin,” she said, tight lipped. “We are leaving first thing in the morning, and there is no time to waste.” She turned away, running up the staircase.
Ara sighed again.Wasshe selfish, not thinking of anyone’s wants or needs? All that she had wanted was not to be pushed into marriage against her will. The urge had seemed so straightforward. But it was hurting Ruth.
She blinked back tears again. In all of this, her betrayal at the false duke’s hands had been completely forgotten.Shewas the villain again, well and truly, and it seemed that she must wear her family’s censure like a hair shirt, until they decided to forgive her.
Chapter 23
Ara sat back in the chair, in the drawing room at Rudwick House, gazing around at the familiar, loved surroundings. She yawned behind her hand. It had been a whirlwind trip, getting back to Dorset so quickly, and she was still tired from the journey.
She would have simply retired to her room for a quick afternoon nap, but Mrs. Letitia Scott, one of their neighbours, had suddenly descended upon them out of the blue. And her mother was not taking any excuses as to why Ara could be absent.
Ara yawned again, discreetly, staring at Mrs. Scott. They had known her forever. She lived in a slightly rundown country house, two miles away. A widow of fifty, she sometimes took in lodgers to make ends meet, but she still clung to her gentility. Mrs. Scott was also the district’s head gossip. There was nothing that went on in this corner of Dorset that she did not know about.
“So,” said the older lady, leaning forwards in her chair, towards Mrs. Nott. “You have not told me yet, Grace, why you all decided to pack up and leave the season in London.”
Her mother reddened slightly. “We were concerned about the house,” she said quickly. “Mr. Farnsworth wrote to us about the break in that happened at his home, and we thought it best to cut off the season to make sure that Rudwick House was well protected.”
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Scott, glancing quickly at Ara. “There was no other reason for your hasty departure?”
Ara forced herself to keep looking at the woman, not blinking. If she betrayed even a hint that something had gone on in London, Mrs. Scott would swoop on her. The woman had a sharper nose for gossip than a bloodhound on the trail of a fox.
“Well,” said Mrs. Scott, sitting back in her chair. “It is probably for the best that you have returned.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “There has beenanotherincident in the district. Just days ago…”
“What has happened?” asked Mrs. Nott, fanning herself.
Mrs. Scott sighed heavily. “A young gentleman and lady, who were passing through the area in their carriage, were accosted by a thief about a mile away from Rudwick House.”
Mrs. Nott gasped. “Oh, that is terrible! Were they hurt?”
Mrs. Scott shook her head. “They were not, Grace, but the thief took their money bag, and the lady’s jewellery that she was wearing. A necklace and two rings, which were worth quite a bit.” She paused. “The local constabulary think that it is the same thief who broke into Digby Lodge…”
Mrs. Nott paled. “Why, I simply cannot believe that such things are happening in this quiet corner of Dorset! We have never experienced crime before…”
“That is not true, Grace,” cut in Mrs. Scott. “Remember the case of the pig thief, five years back? The man who crept into the local farms and managed to steal their sows and piglets, underneath the farmers’ very noses? A shocking affair, that one!”
