sipped at his port. ‘You might have designs on Ruth, but, not to put too fine a point on it, my friend, I doubt she has any interest in you.’ Gavin gave Clayton a cautionary look. ‘She’s no man’s mistress…not even yours, no matter how generous you’re feeling. Take my word on it.’
Clayton sat back in his chair and fondled the stem of his glass with long fingers. His slate-grey eyes watched the crystal as it performed a balletic twirl. ‘Is she spoken for?’
‘Sarah told me earlier this evening that Ruth’s recently received a proposal of marriage.’ Gavin refilled his glass and pushed the decanter towards Clayton. ‘Her suitor is by all accounts a pillar of society here in Willowdene. Don’t ask more,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’ve been indiscreet as it is. Sarah adores Ruth, and with good reason. Ruth was a loyal friend and a support when Sarah was very much alone and in need of help,’ he explained gruffly. ‘I’d hate Ruth to think I’d spoken out of turn.’
Clayton nodded acceptance of that. ‘He’s a lucky chap, whoever he is.’
‘Indeed,’ Gavin murmured. He sent a subtle look at his brooding friend and amusement tipped his lips upwards.
He knew, of course, that Clayton was a hardened cynic where women were concerned. Clayton’s wife had made a complete fool of him by acting like a seasoned trollop throughout their short marriage. Since his divorce ambitious women had constantly thrown themselves at him, hoping to take her place. He was mercilessly hounded by every mama with aspirations of marrying her débutante daughter to a man of great wealth and lineage—when Clayton’s octogenarian grandfather died he would take a clutch of titles to add to the baronetcy he already had.
It seemed the longer Sir Clayton Powell remained stubbornly single, the more of a challenge the hostesses seemed to find him. Gavin knew that wagers had been laid amongst the ton’s grandes dames as to which of them might finally snare him for a favoured niece or goddaughter.
Clayton knew of their scheming too, and their ulterior motives. He knew he was wanted at their balls for what he had rather than himself. The more desperate they became to have him attend their functions, the more reluctant he became to turn up. The fact that his friend would choose to spend his evenings at the theatre with a demi-rep, or gambling with male friends, rather than socialise with women of his own class, spoke volumes about his friend’s attitude to courtship and marriage. In fact, Gavin mused, he would not be at all surprised to learn that Clayton had badly misjudged the situation tonight and treated Ruth as though she were some mercenary temptress with an eye on his wallet. It would certainly explain the frost he’d sensed in the atmosphere when he and Sarah had joined them in the library.
A soundless laugh tickled Gavin’s throat. He imagined from Clayton’s rather mystified expression that he was still wondering why Mrs Hayden had refused to flutter her eyelashes and gaze adoringly at him, as did every other single woman of his acquaintance. He could have told his friend that, in fact, Mrs Hayden had turned down the doctor’s proposal, but for some reason he had not. And it was not just because in another respect he’d told Clayton the truth.
Ruth would undoubtedly be better off financially as a rich man’s paramour, but in Gavin’s opinion she would hold out for a man to love, and to love her, before she slept with him.
Chapter Five
‘No! Please don’t say anything,’ Ruth begged. ‘Sir Clayton has apologised and been charm personified since his odd outburst.’
‘And so he ought to improve his behaviour!’ Sarah responded pithily.
After they had settled down into chairs beside the crib to chat and listen to James’s gentle snores, Ruth had quite naturally told Sarah she had clashed with her gentleman guest. They had long been kindred spirits and didn’t have secrets. But Sarah’s reaction to knowing that her husband’s friend had been rather insulting to her friend had been stronger than Ruth had anticipated. She’d immediately said that she’d tell Gavin to speak to Clayton about his manners.
‘How dare he suppose we might plot to get him to marry you!’ Sarah hissed beneath her breath so as not to wake her son.
‘Now I think on it,’ Ruth commented ruefully, ‘I’m not sure marriage entered his mind.’ The more indignant Sarah became, the more her own annoyance receded and she saw a farcical side to it all. ‘I’m a widow, unattached, of limited means,’ she listed out her fair-game status. ‘It’s possible he believed I harboured no such high aspirations and was angling for a less formal arrangement with him.’ On seeing Sarah’s anger re-igniting, she made a small dismissive gesture. ‘No doubt he is used to women fawning over him. He is handsome…rich too, I expect.’
‘Oh, yes!’ Sarah stressed, nodding her head vigorously and setting her blonde ringlets dancing. ‘He’s chased mercilessly by the débutantes, and equally enthusiastically by ladies of a different class,’ she added as she recalled she’d once seen him at the theatre with several demi-reps in one evening. ‘And he must have an enormous fortune, for Gavin jokes that he makes him feel like a pauper. But none of that excuses his rudeness to you.’
‘Well, we must make allowances for such a popular fellow. It is not worth making a fuss.’ Ruth shook her friend’s arm gently to emphasise she meant what she’d said. ‘I imagine Sir Clayton is now feeling awkward too. There’s just this evening for us to get through, then tomorrow I shall go home and that will be an end to it. When we go back to the drawing room, shall we suggest a game of cards until bedtime?’
‘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