Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (29 page)

Whit was further buffeted from the older guests by having Ruby and Charles sit opposite each other and between the young ladies and their parents. With such an arrangement, the conversation was as pleasant as the food, and Whit didn't have to worry about Charles continuing his flirting with Ruby.

Indeed, he noticed that his cousin spent most of his time conversing with Henrietta, with only occasional forays with her mother on the other side. Ruby said little, smiling as conversation flowed around her, helping Lady Amelia to a particularly large piece of cake that was served with the second course. He could not get over the changes she had wrought.

In fact, it wasn't until Henrietta asked about tomorrow's activities that Whit felt himself the center of attention once more.

“I have several ideas,” he told them all. “But whether any come to pass depends on the weather.”

His guests did not argue with that. As before, Lady Wesworth led the ladies out first, and Whit and the other gentlemen did not tarry long over their discussions before joining them in the withdrawing room. Lady Amelia all but pounced on him the moment he entered, blue eyes bright.

“We are playing Consequences, my lord,” she said, handing him a piece of paper that had already been folded over several times. “You are to write the name of something a gentleman might wear, and I will pass this to Mr. Calder to have him write something a lady might wear.”

Whit accepted the quill she offered and wrote “red waistcoat” on the slip. Lady Amelia then pursued Charles to the other side of the room to get his input.

“I'm not familiar with the game,” Whit admitted as he took a seat on one of the armchairs by the fire. The two mothers were seated on the sofa, with Ruby's father flanking them on the other armchair. Charles and Mr. Stokely-Trent drew up the other two armchairs for Ruby and Lady Amelia before taking their seats on the chairs from which they had played cards earlier.

“It's been around since I was a girl,” Mrs. Stokely-Trent replied. “Each person must answer a particular question, such as the name of a lady, the name of a gentleman, how they met, what they wore, what they said and what the consequences were.” She smiled at Lady Wesworth. “We used to have such fun on rainy days coming up with the tallest tales.”

Lady Wesworth actually smiled. “Yes, I remember playing it, as well. Ah, have you finished then, Amelia? Read it out.”

Amelia hurried into the center of the circle but swiftly passed the paper to Ruby, who raised her brows in surprise.

“Do read it, Miss Hollingsford,” Amelia begged. “You are by far the most brave when it comes to declaiming.”

Remembering Ruby's attempt at a poem from earlier in the visit, Whit hid a smile. But Ruby rose agreeably and opened the paper.

“‘Handsome Adam,'” she read, pausing to wiggle her eyebrows and gaining a giggle from Lady Amelia in the process, “‘and sassy Firenza—' hmm, I wonder where that name came from?”

Mrs. Stokely-Trent concealed her smile behind her hand.

“‘Met at church.'” Ruby paused to eye her listeners. “How very virtuous, to be sure.”

Whit felt his face stretching in a grin as she continued with his contribution.

“‘He wore a red waistcoat, and she wore a fetching brown dinner gown with ribbons down the front.'”

Henrietta stared down at her brown dinner gown trimmed with satin ribbons and craned her neck for a glance at Charles, who grinned, as well.

“‘He said, “I believe I have made a fortune on the exchange.”'”

“Smart chap,” Mr. Stokely-Trent put in.

“‘And she said,'” Ruby continued, clearly fighting a smile herself, “‘“I should like the largest diamond available, if you please.”'”

“Smart lass,” Ruby's father added with a wink to his daughter.

“‘And the consequence was,'” Ruby finished, “‘they both went fishing in the rain!'”

Laughter ringed the room.

“Let's try another!” Lady Amelia cried as soon as the sound began to fade. Immediately, she glanced at her mother. “If that's all right with you, Mother.”

Her mother waved a hand. “Certainly. Pass the paper about, in a different order this time, mind you, so we have a chance to think of a clever answer for another question.”

Whit stood as Ruby returned to her seat next to his. “Well done,” he murmured as Lady Amelia began circulating with a fresh piece of paper.

“It was actually Lady Wesworth's idea,” Ruby explained. “I only encouraged her.”

“You've done far more,” Whit assured her. “I would never have imagined such a congenial evening was possible.”

“Apparently your cousin agrees,” Ruby said with a nod to where Charles and Henrietta had their heads close together. “If we were wise, we'd encourage that.”

“Ah, so you're not opposed to courting,” Whit teased. “So long as you're not the one involved.”

She smiled, returning her gaze to his. “In truth, I once thought courting would be delightful. Gazing into each other's eyes, dancing at a crowded ball but feeling as if you were the only two there, standing out on a veranda talking while the stars turn above.”

The picture resembled what he'd imagined it might be like should he fall as deeply in love as his mother and father. “What changed your mind?”

“It's cold on that veranda,” she replied. “And you cannot simply stand about staring at each other. And crowded dance floors are simply crowded.”

Whit shook his head. “I refuse to believe you have no romance left in your soul.”

Lady Amelia appeared before them, holding out the paper. “Your turn, Miss Hollingsford. You are to write what the lady would say, and then, my lord, you are to prescribe the consequences.”

Ruby took the paper and scrawled something, then folded it so Whit could not see and handed it to him. Given their conversation, he knew what he must write. He penned the words and handed the sheet to Lady Amelia.

“I'll read it this time,” Henrietta volunteered, rising and coming to Lady Amelia's side. Lady Amelia surrendered the page with a grateful smile.

“‘Wealthy Hieronymus—'” she stopped to arch a brow, and Ruby's father snickered “‘—and gorgeous Ruby met at Almack's.'”

Whit glanced at Ruby and knew the others were doing likewise. Her color was rising, but she kept a pleasant smile on her face as Henrietta continued.

“‘He wore a sultan's turban, and she wore a jeweled snood.'”

“A snood?” Lady Amelia whispered to her mother. “Do I own one of those?”

Lady Wesworth waved her hand, but whether to encourage her daughter to hush or Henrietta to continue, Whit wasn't sure.

“‘He said to her, “You are more beautiful than a sunset.” She said to him, “I do not believe in true love, sir.”'”

Whit knew that had been Ruby's contribution, but she did not glance his way.

“‘And they lived happily ever after,'” Henrietta concluded.

“I say, I rather doubt that,” Charles put in, and the others laughed.

“Mr. Calder,” Ruby called. “I believe you promised to show the gentlemen your book of flies.”

“I'd very much like to see that, as well,” Henrietta said.

Charles hopped to his feet and drew Mr. Stokely-Trent, Ruby's father and Henrietta out with him to retrieve the book from the fishing closet. Ruby, Lady Amelia and the two mothers stayed behind with Whit. Lady Amelia wandered back to the spinet, and the two mothers began conversing about mutual acquaintances.

“They meant no harm by using your name,” Whit said to Ruby.

She nodded, but one hand was wrapped around her middle. “It was only a game, Whit. I know that. This visit is nothing but a game to many of them. Unfortunately, they will do anything to win.”

Chapter Eight

H
appily ever after. Ruby shook her head as she climbed into bed that night after dismissing her maid. Did Whit truly think that was possible? Oh, she'd read books that promised such an end, but she no longer believed them. She'd had her happily ever after clasped in her hand, once, only to have it slip through her fingers like sand.

Or mud.

She lay on her back and gazed up at the underside of the bed's canopy. The curve of the lace covering was easy to follow even in the moonlight trickling in her window. But instead of the fine material, she saw that handsome face, that winsome smile of Phillip, Lord Milton.

They'd met at a ball on her first Season, and he'd soon become a frequent visitor to her home. He'd called her beautiful, his remarkable Ruby, the gem of London, and in his gaze she'd felt perfect. Her father was already planning the set of wedding rings he'd create for them.

Then one afternoon instead of taking her home from an outing in the park, he'd driven her to an elegant town house in Mayfair, ushered her through the opulent rooms and offered to make her its mistress.

And his.

Ruby had been certain she'd misunderstood, even as he took her in his arms and kissed her.

She'd pushed against his chest, hard, and then harder to make him disengage.

“Your mistress?” She'd nearly choked on the words. “I thought you were courting me! I thought you'd wanted to marry me!”

He'd adjusted his cravat as if maintaining appearances was truly the only thing that mattered to him. “Surely you understand that I could never marry a woman of your sort. But I promise I will take care of you for as long as I'm able. You won't get that offer from many men of my stature.”

“I certainly hope not,” Ruby said. Then she'd turned on her heel and stalked out.

It had been a long walk back to her father's, but she'd gone with head high, even as her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Phillip wasn't worth her tears. None of the aristocracy were worth her tears. None of them were worth the time of day.

And yet...

Whit seemed different. When he looked at her, she felt pretty, clever, useful. She knew she was all of those things, but it was refreshing to find someone besides her father who agreed with her. Perhaps that was why she liked Whit. He seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, to appreciate her efforts and her sense of humor.

She should be satisfied with that, she told herself as she turned to face the window. Until this house party, she'd convinced herself admiration was sufficient. There were always gentlemen willing to offer a compliment, escort her to the opera. The all-consuming fire of love wasn't true affection. Now something whispered there might be more. That she really could stand in the moonlight and kiss the one she loved.

Who seemed to bear an uncanny resemblance to Whit when she thought on it. She fell asleep with the vision on her mind and woke to glorious sunshine with a smile on her face.

While her maid set out her clothing, Ruby stood in front of the window in her dressing gown, catching the scent of orchids on the soft breeze that rustled the curtains.

A movement down by the stream caught her eye. Whit had evidently risen early to sneak in some fishing. He had waded into the water, the current lapping his boots. As she watched, he began moving his arm, backward and forward, backward and forward. Like the gossamer strand of a spider, his line lengthened, shining in the pearly light, to settle on the water.

Though the movement must sting after his injury yesterday, he was grace itself, a maestro conducting an orchestra, a seasoned coachman mastering a powerful team. Every movement, every step was poetry.

Then he leaned back, fingers hauling at the line, and his rod bowed. He'd caught something! Ruby stiffened, stood on her tiptoes to see what was on his hook. He waded deeper, pulling, then releasing, but always shortening the line until the sleek fish, scales flashing silver, leaped from the water.

Ruby threw open the window, leaned out. “Oh, well done, Whit!”

He turned from the river, glanced back, then up, and she knew when he'd sighted her by the way his smile broadened. He held up the fish, its tail flicking about, and Ruby clapped her hands. He offered her a handsome bow, other hand spread beside him. Another man might have fallen, stumbled on the slippery rocks. But fishing, Whit was all confidence. She was still smiling after she'd dressed and gone down to join him a short time later for breakfast.

The others seemed to be in equally fine moods. Most had beat her to the table. Only Lady Wesworth was lounging upstairs, taking her breakfast in bed, while Charles Calder had followed Whit's lead and gone fishing.

“Today we view the waterfall,” Whit announced as the rest of them tucked into the boiled eggs and bacon laid out before them. His smile to Ruby told her he had no doubt she would enjoy the sight. She smiled back.

“How far?” Mr. Stokely-Trent wanted to know, pausing before taking a sip of his morning tea from the fine china cup.

“An easy walk of perhaps a mile,” Whit assured him. “And the view is well worth the effort.”

Mrs. Stokely-Trent immediately demurred, and Ruby's father offered to stay behind with her and Lady Wesworth, but Ruby was pleased to see the others showing interest. Anything to get them out of the house! She was swiftly reaching the end of her ideas on how to occupy them.

“I've read of the geologic formations in Derby,” Henrietta said. “I'd very much like to see some of them for myself.”

“It sounds lovely,” Lady Amelia agreed with a sweet smile and a nod to Ruby. Ruby found she could like the young lady well enough, so long as her mother wasn't around.

The plan agreed, they all met in the entry a bit later that morning. Ruby had spent little time in the country, but she thought she was dressed appropriately. She'd chosen a walking dress of heavier cotton, vertically striped in green and dun, with a white lace ruff at the throat and green kid leather gloves below the long sleeves. Her high-crowned bonnet covered in green and yellow plaid shaded her face from the sun, and her brown leather boots protected her feet from the dirt.

Henrietta was similarly attired in a sky blue walking dress with military braid along the edges. Lady Amelia's frilly muslin gown with its embroidered daisies at the hem and the butter yellow spencer on the top looked decidedly feminine and completely impractical, but both Mr. Calder and Mr. Stokely-Trent complimented her on it, setting her to blushing under her lacey parasol.

The gentlemen were all wearing practical wool coats of various colors, from Mr. Calder in fashionable navy to Whit in his spruce green. They, too, had donned boots and wore broad-brimmed felt hats to ward off the weather. And the sun certainly promised some heat, piercing the leafy canopy of the trees as they set out.

Fern Lodge rested on a shelf between the river and the hills. Nestled among a copse of trees, with the meadow filled with wild orchids close at hand, it was easy to feel as if the house was the entire world. But when Whit led them up the slope in front to its crest, the world opened wide. Hills rose green, one atop the other, mist clinging to the tops and so close Ruby thought she could reach out and touch it.

“What's that?” Lady Amelia asked, and everyone turned in the direction she was gazing.

Staring at the hills was a massive country house, sprawling in all directions. The stone walls glowed like gold in the sunlight, the windows winked like silver. Before the sweep of drive, a fountain bubbled, shooting crystal clear water into the air.

“That is Bellweather Hall,” Whit offered. “Home of the Dukes of Bellington.”

So, that was how a duke lived. The house must boast more than a hundred rooms, Ruby was sure.

“Is it open to tours?” Henrietta asked as if she, too, had been wondering what it must be like inside.

“Alas, no,” Whit said, turning away. “The duke's mother and sister are uncomfortable having strangers view their things.”

“Pity,” Henrietta said, turning, as well. Ruby thought Lady Amelia sighed before joining them.

What a waste! At school, she'd been taken on tours of the estates of many fine families connected to the Barnsley School. Their homes were crowded with ancient statuary, classical paintings, medieval tapestries. They were happy to open their houses so that others might view the treasures.

But instead of sharing the riches that likely lay inside Bellweather Hall, Lady Bellington and her daughter clutched them close. Why were so many aristocrats so selfish?

Whit was obviously not among their number. As he had when they'd gone to see Lord Hascot, he took the lead, pointing out sights of interest, from the hawk soaring above to the flowers blooming along the path. Between the way he'd hooked his fish that morning to the way he moved easily along the ground, Ruby thought his ribs must not be troubling him. Or at least if they did, he was too proud to let on.

The path he followed was wide enough to allow three people abreast, and they soon fell into groupings. Ruby wasn't surprised to find Henrietta most often beside Whit's cousin, although Mr. Stokely-Trent seemed to be keeping an eye on the pair. That left Ruby and Lady Amelia to walk with Whit.

Everywhere, the recent rains showed their mark. Puddles dotted the path, and in places mud sucked at Ruby's boots. The daisies at Lady Amelia's hem were soon crusted, but she didn't appear to mind. She was gazing about her in wonder.

“Have you traveled much?” Ruby couldn't help asking her as they paused to rest beside a stream that ran down through a draw.

Lady Amelia watched a flock of wild ducks wheel above them before gliding down to settle on the stream. “No, indeed, Miss Hollingsford. My father isn't fond of his seat, so I grew up in London.”

“I went to school in Somerset,” Ruby confided. “But that wasn't nearly as wild as this.”

Next to them, Whit inhaled so deeply Ruby was certain she felt a breeze. “Smell that?” he asked, closing his eyes. “Nothing but resin and water. No coal fires, no dust from carriages passing.”

Ruby laughed as she lifted one of her boots free of the mud. “Dust wouldn't last long here.”

Whit opened his eyes with a grin as Henrietta came up to them. She held some sort of large monocle before her, turned her back on the vista and gazed into the device.

“What is that?” Ruby asked.

“A Claude glass,” Henrietta replied, lowering it a moment to allow Ruby and Lady Amelia to peruse it. “It allows one to better appreciate the picturesque.”

It appeared to Ruby to be nothing more than a tinted mirror in a leather holder. Through it, the view seemed misty, plainer. “I think I prefer my sights uncolored,” she said, leaning back. “This is glorious enough for me.”

“Me, too,” Lady Amelia said, glancing about with a shiver of obvious pleasure.

“Give me a moment,” Whit said, smile widening, “and I promise you better.”

He was true to his word. As they came out of the trees, Ruby saw that the land on their left rose to a cliff, set with rough formations of rock. Farther along, tumbling down its slope was a white freshet, ending in a fall of spray cloaked in rainbow mist. Ruby gasped and heard Lady Amelia do likewise.

Whit grinned at them. “It's even more spectacular up close. Come on.”

Ruby shook her head as he loped forward. He was so delighted in his discovery, so eager to share it with them. How could she not admire a man like that?

Not to be outdone, Charles paused beside them and Henrietta. “See those rocks?” he said, pointing to dark blocks of stone jutting out from the cascade on the other side of the stream. “Basalt. Very likely from before the Flood.”

“Interesting,” Henrietta said with a nod of approval. “And how were they formed?”

He winked at her. “I'll never tell.”

Shaking her head, Ruby turned away to follow Whit, leaving Lady Amelia behind with the others.

Whit had started up the slope leading to the top of the cliff and had paused to wait for them, booted feet splayed, hands on the hips of his chamois trousers. As Ruby drew abreast, she could hear the distant roar of the cascade.

“Where does it all come from?” she asked in awe.

“The snows at the top of Bell Tor finished melting a month ago,” he explained, “and the rain the last few days surely helped. All that water has to go somewhere.”

“And this joins the River Bell?” she asked, following the freshet downstream with her gaze as it wound through marsh and meadow.

“It joins the Bell, and the Bell joins the Dove. Eventually, it all flows out to sea.”

For a moment, standing there, she felt as if she were a tiny piece of an immense puzzle. What was one Ruby Hollingsford among stones from antiquity, hills that touched the sky, water that amassed an ocean? Did God even notice her among all that?

Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

Ruby frowned at the strange thought. But then, as if God had truly noticed her, she felt the oddest sinking feeling. Around her, the earth groaned, began shifting.

“Charles!” Whit shouted, grabbing her about the waist. “Stay back!”

Before she could protest, he heaved her up into his arms and ran.

* * *

Whit clung to Ruby as the ground sank under his boots. His ribs were on fire again. Each step was a stumble, each breath a prayer.

Lord, help me!

He made for the nearest outcropping of basalt and swung Ruby up onto it, then scrambled after her.

“What are you doing?” she cried, shoving herself to her feet beside him.

In answer, Whit caught her shoulders and turned her in the direction they had just come. He saw her mouth drop open as she gasped.

The entire hillside had slumped, grass disappearing under mud that was flowing thicker than treacle down to the stream. Already water pooled behind the makeshift dam, and Whit knew it was only time before the pressure burst it apart. The path they had followed was gone. On the far side of the devastation, Charles waved to him, the others crowded around him.