Mary Brendan - The Rake's Defiant Mistress

‘I was going to ask you to play and sing for us, but after what you’ve told me he doesn’t deserve to listen to your fine voice.’

Ruth clucked her tongue and raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘You will have it I can hold a tune. I cannot, Sarah. Honestly, I cannot.’

‘Of course you can!’ Sarah contradicted. ‘Compared to my musical efforts, you are talented enough to perform at Drury Lane.’

‘That’s true,’ Ruth said, mock solemn. Sarah’s description of her attempt to warble soprano sounding like a cat having its tail trodden on, was, alas, correct.

‘Well, really! I was hoping you might fib and flatter me just a little bit,’ Sarah reproved with a twinkling smile. ‘Come, let’s join the gentlemen. I won’t say anything to Gavin about Clayton’s behaviour, but I’m not sure I’ll let him off too lightly either. If the rogue thinks me capable of meddling, I might feel inclined to prove him right.’

‘Ah…we were just saying, my dear, that if horse riding is out of the question in the morning Clayton and I might take a different sort of constitutional and have a snowball fight.’

‘What a good idea!’ Sarah chirped gaily as she and Ruth, in a cloud of freshly sprayed French perfume, joined the gentlemen in the drawing room. ‘Perhaps we might join you. I doubt Ruth would be averse to throwing missiles at Clayton.’

Ruth inwardly winced. Sarah had not after all been able to refrain from a little barbed remark about what had occurred between her guests.

‘What is your answer, Mrs Hayden?’ Clayton asked mildly, apparently unperturbed to discover that she’d told tales about him. ‘Shall we draw battle lines and bombard each other?’

‘I’m not sure it would be a fair fight,’ Ruth responded lightly. ‘You have an unfair advantage, sir, having been in the army.’

‘Did I tell you that?’ Clayton inquired in surprise.

‘Um…yes,’ Ruth answered quietly and quickly looked away. Why on earth had she mentioned the army? Obviously he’d forgotten that when they’d met in Willowdene last year he’d commented that he was acquainted with her father-in-law, Colonel Walter Hayden, from his army days. Now she’d idiotically paved the way for the conversation to once more turn to her marriage and perhaps her late husband, Captain Paul Hayden. And she certainly had no desire for that.

‘We could make a snowman,’ Sarah blurted, once more coming to her friend’s rescue. She knew very well how loath Ruth was to talk about Paul, for invariably questions would be asked about his untimely demise. ‘If there’s no sign of a thaw tomorrow, I think we should do that. Of course, we wouldn’t want to sculpt the fellow, then see him too soon melt away before our eyes.’

Ruth rewarded her friend with a subtle smile for valiantly attempting to divert the conversation away from a sensitive subject. ‘But let’s hope for a thaw,’ she commented lightly. ‘Then Sir Clayton can ride to his heart’s content.’

‘Towards London?’ Clayton ventured in a drawl, with a steady look at Ruth.

‘If you wish, sir,’ she responded and held his eyes.

‘And what do you wish, Mrs Hayden?’

‘Shall we play cards?’ Sarah interjected hastily and gave her husband a meaningful frown. Gavin seemed privately amused by the verbal battle between their guests. ‘I know Ruth is good at piquet and so am I. We shall play together and beat you two gentlemen,’ she declared. ‘And the losers must…well, we’ll decide that later,’ she said, rather flustered by the sultry look her husband bestowed on her.

The following morning Ruth arose early, despite being reluctant to quit her bed as it was wonderfully warm and comfy. Her cold toes sought the satin slippers Sarah had lent her. Drawing about her the warm dressing gown that was also being loaned by her friend, she padded to the window.

She drew back the heavy velvet curtains and gazed out, rather blearily, at a stunning sight. Small clouds were scantily placed on a high azure sky. The sun was blindingly bright and beneath its rays the ground was a sheet of twinkling white. The trees, shrubs, hedges gracefully bore their sugar coating, only rarely shedding granules as the breeze stirred branches to life. Despite being disappointedly aware that the conditions were still too perilous for even a short journey through back lanes, Ruth marvelled at the natural beauty she gazed upon. It made her wish that she had an ability to paint or draw and capture the pristine scene.

Turning into the room, she approached the dresser and tested the water in the pitcher. It was cold, but not unbearably so. Logs had burned in the grate all night and were only now disintegrating into flaky grey ash. Quickly she filled the bowl and used the scented washing things Sarah had thoughtfully provided for her.

Having freshened up, she quickly donned her clothes without waiting for a maid to appear. She knew that Sarah would send someone to attend on her, but not yet, it was far too early. She would not be expected to rise till after ten at the earliest. Now she looked down at her silver silk dress with a frown. It was not suitable daywear, but would have to suffice for just this morning. This afternoon she hoped to be in her own home.

Now ready to face the day, she none the less lingered in her chamber. She sat upon the bed and wondered if it was too early to go downstairs. Not that she was expected to stand on ceremony when enjoying the Tremaynes’hospitality—she was treated as one of the family. But she’d guessed that Sarah and Gavin might enjoy a lie in while their other guest might be up and about as early as she was. She’d no intention of again finding herself alone with Clayton, desperately seeking to engage him in some innocuous conversation till their hosts appeared.

When she’d bid Clayton a goodnight yesterday evening at close to midnight, and had received a similar cordiality from him, they had seemed to part on fair terms. It would be wise to keep it that way for the short time they remained penned together in close proximity.

After they had played piquet together and each team had won a game, Gavin and Sarah had opted to play dominoes. Ruth and Clayton had persevered with the pack of cards.

Ruth had then won two hands of piquet, playing solo. She’d had a suspicion that Clayton had allowed her to do so and had been initially rather miffed in case he was attempting to patronise her. Then she’d mused that his intentions could be philanthropic. He might have been seeking to compensate for his boorish behaviour earlier and so she’d graciously accepted her victory. But it had been impossible not to bring to his notice their wager. She’d been correct in guessing they would dine on poultry with stuffing. She’d also beaten him at cards, yet he’d cheated her of her prize in bringing a musical evening to Sarah’s notice. He’d affected to look chastened and had offered to make amends by fetching for her another small sherry. But when he’d handed it over he’d again raised her hackles by giving the softly scornful advice that it might be advisable to sip at this one slowly.

Thus had the evening progressed in an atmosphere of gentle joviality till bedtime. Yet she knew that, for all his sophisticated charm and easy smiles when their eyes had held for a second more than necessary or their fingers had inadvertently brushed together, an undeniable tension had strained between them.

With that thought in her mind, Ruth lingered by the dressing table and again picked up the hairbrush. She drew it slowly through her thick dusky hair and, raising her eyes to the mirror, gave her reflection a wistful smile. At least her unexpected meeting with Clayton had helped her forget the other gentleman unsettling her. She’d given Ian Bryant very little thought since she’d again made Clayton’s acquaintance. Nevertheless, she must soon return to Fernlea and the gossip that would spread about her rejecting the doctor’s proposal.