made a sound on the stone floor. ‘I also came to tell you that everyone has decided to retire and that I’ve extinguished the candles in the drawing room.’
Her expression revealed her gratitude, even before she voiced it. ‘Why, that was considerate of you, sir. Thank you.’
‘Not at all!’ Hugo countered, dismissing the thanks with a wave of his hand. ‘Very least I could do, Miss Harrington, most especially after...after unwittingly upsetting you earlier in the day.’
‘Upsetting me...?’ Ruth’s puzzlement could not have been clearer. ‘But you haven’t upset me, sir. Whatever made you suppose you had?’
His gaze betrayed a suggestion of amusement. ‘Because I could only suppose it was the mild scold I administered for carrying my bags that induced you to virtually ignore me for most of the evening.’
The bluntness of the response left Ruth almost reeling for a moment. That he’d been fully cognisant of her deliberate avoidance came as no very real surprise. After all, hadn’t she already decided there was absolutely nothing wrong with the tall man’s understanding? But now he was proving himself to be so confoundedly astute, too astute to be fobbed off with a deliberate lie! Yet, how on earth could she admit to having avoided him without offering some explanation for her actions. And the truth of the matter was she didn’t know the reason for it herself!
Deciding the best form of defence was attack, she said, ‘I shall take leave to inform you, sir, that it would take a deal more than a mild verbal chastisement from a virtual stranger to overset me. I’m not such a poor creature.’
Behind the amused glint lurked a growing respect. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Here, let me take that,’ he added, reaching for the tray, after she had completed her task. He sniffed appreciatively. ‘Smells delicious. I’m almost tempted to have one myself.’
‘Have that one. I can easily make another,’ she obligingly offered, but Hugo shook his head.
‘No, it’s time you were abed.’ He slanted a look that was gently teasing and yet at the same time touchingly earnest. ‘I should feel aggrieved if I’m obliged to set out on the morrow without being granted the opportunity to say a final farewell.’
Had he but realised it, Ruth herself was continuing to experience scant pleasure at the prospect and yet sensibly accepted there was precious little she could do to delay his departure. Moreover, although he lived in an adjoining county, he might just as well have resided on the other side of the world, so slim were their chances of ever meeting again, at least by accident.
Sensible though she might have been to have accepted this already, as she accompanied him up the staircase, she racked her brain for something, anything that might delay him seeking his bed immediately. Sadly, any hope of doing so was thwarted by surprisingly discovering Julia Adams lurking in the passageway at the top of the stairs.
She appeared momentarily startled by their appearance, then seemed to collect herself. ‘Oh, I was hoping you hadn’t retired, Miss Harrington. I was just attempting to locate your room. There must be a split in my valise. I’m afraid everything has become so very damp. Could you possibly oblige me by lending me a nightgown?’
‘Of course,’ Ruth responded before masterfully suppressing a resigned sigh as she turned to the Colonel. ‘Just put the tray down on that table outside Lady Beatrice’s room, sir, and I shall bid you goodnight.’
After taking a minute or so to locate the required garment, Ruth emerged from her bedchamber in the hope of seeing the Colonel still lingering there, only to discover Mrs Adams awaiting her.
After handing over the freshly laundered nightgown, Ruth didn’t delay in whisking herself into Lady Beatrice’s room to find the lady sitting up in bed, supported by a mound of pillows, and not, as expected, appearing in the least fatigued.
‘Was that Colonel Prentiss I heard you conversing with a few moments ago?’
‘Yes, and Mrs Adams. She wished to borrow a nightgown,’ Ruth enlightened her before placing the small tray containing the nightcap within easy reach on the bedside table. ‘If there’s nothing else I can get for you, ma’am, I shall retire myself.’
She was subjected to a piercing stare. ‘Yes, you do look tired. A pity, I was hoping to have a private talk with you. There was something I wished to explain,’ Lady Beatrice revealed, then shrugged. ‘No matter, it can wait until morning. Just lock my door before you leave. I don’t feel safe with so many...strangers in the house. And you would do well to do likewise.’
Although she happily did as bidden, Ruth flatly refused to be influenced by such foolish flights of fancy. Who was likely to visit her at the dead of night, for heaven’s sake? Certainly neither Dr Dent or Mr Blunt, she mused, changing into her nightwear. They were far too strait-laced for such capers; not to mention too sensible to risk their respective livelihoods if rumours of such scandalous goings-on were ever spread abroad. As for Tristram Boothroyd...? Well, he possibly viewed her in the light of some dull maiden aunt, she decided, somewhat dispirited at the thought. And as for the Colonel...?
For a few deliciously frivolous moments she allowed herself to ponder on just such an occurrence, and what her possible reaction might be, before common sense prevailed and she took herself roundly to task for even contemplating such a scandalous situation. The Colonel was a gentleman, kind and considerate, but certainly not interested in conducting a dalliance with her. He’d be the very last person to pay her a midnight visit!
* * *
Yet, later, something did succeed in rousing her briefly from slumber. The fire in the grate had long since ceased to send flickering darts of light about the bedchamber and the room was in total darkness, save for the suggestion of candlelight beneath the communicating door. There was not so much as a sound except that of her own breathing and there was no shadowy movement from any corner. Even so, Ruth couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling that she wasn’t alone, until sleep finally reclaimed her.
Chapter Three
The hand gently shaking her shoulder eventually succeeded in rousing Ruth from slumber; she opened her eyes to discover Agatha surprisingly standing by the bed. Only on those rare occasions when she had been unwell had she received the attentions of Lady Beatrice’s personal maid, so quite naturally Ruth’s first instinct was to suppose something must surely be wrong.
‘The mistress’s door to the passageway be locked,’ Agatha reminded her. ‘And as I was obliged to come this way I thought you might like to know some of the visitors be already enjoying breakfast.’ All at once a glint of mischief was clearly discernible in the maid’s dark eyes. ‘And—er—Colonel Prentiss be among them.’
‘And why, pray, should you suppose I might be interested to discover that?’ Ruth responded, striving for that air of sheer indifference she was definitely not experiencing.
‘Because, when I was about to go up to tend the mistress last night, he came out of the drawing room and asked particular-like if you were still about,’ Agatha revealed, much to Ruth’s surprise, though she was determined not to read too much into the startling disclosure. After all, hadn’t he made a point of saying his original intention had been to have a last word with his servant?
Aware that she was being regarded closely, she again strived for that air of detachment. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a well-mannered gentleman, Aggie. He sought me out to express his thanks, in person, for all the extra work he and his fellow travellers
