Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama), Carole Williams [ebook reader 8 inch .TXT] 📗

Ruth smiled gratefully.  “Thank you, Tina.  I know I can rely on you.  Have a couple of hours off now.  I’ll take Stephen to my room while I have a rest and change for dinner.  Then you can take over again until it’s time for bed.”

Ruth took Stephen to her room, locked the door, and even checked the windows couldn’t be opened from the outside before placing the sleeping baby in Vicky’s old cot, which Hardy had found in the attic.  It was right near to the bed so that Ruth only had to put out a hand and she could touch him.  She lay beside him and tried to sleep but her mind was too active and her fear of Delia too real to be able to relax.  An hour before dinner she stepped into the bathroom.  She would have loved a good soak but a shower was quicker so she hurried through her ablutions, scared to have Stephen out of her sight for longer than absolutely necessary.

The mirror of her dressing table revealed how desperately tired and washed out she looked.  Lack of sleep, worry and floods of tears had ravaged her face and aged her.  A smattering of eye makeup and powder helped hide the worst and boosted her confidence a little, as did donning the green silk dress Charles loved to see her in.  It would have been more seemly to wear black but not possessing an item of clothing in that colour was a bit of a problem.  She would have to get into Leeds and get a few things.  Taking a final glance in the mirror, Ruth shrugged her shoulders.  If Delia looked her usual ravishing self and made Ruth pale into comparison, it was just too bad.  Ruth was the Duchess of Canleigh and she was in charge.  She had to remember that.

A gentle tap on the bedroom door made her jump nervously.

“It’s Tina, Your Grace.”

With shaking hands, Ruth opened the door and let her in, trying hard not to show how terrified she had been that it might have been Delia.

“Should I take Stephen back to the nursery or should I remain here, Your Grace?”

“There’s no need to disturb him.  Stay here and I promise I won’t linger over dinner so that you won’t be too late home … and while I’m gone, please lock yourself in.  I know you think I’m probably overreacting but just humour me, please Tina.”

Tina nodded, sensing just how uneasy and frightened Ruth was.  She had a huge liking and respect for her employer and would do anything to ease her fears.

“Of course I will.  Please don’t worry.  Stephen will be perfectly safe up here with me.  I’ll guard him as if he were my own.”

Ruth patted Tina’s shoulder gratefully and left the room, not moving down the corridor until she heard the key turn in the lock.

Vicky was already in the dining room.  She looked exhausted and hadn’t even bothered with make-up, and the dark brown dress she wore did nothing to improve her pallor.

“I could do without this,” she muttered as Ruth entered the room.  “I wish to God she hadn’t come.”

“Oh, don’t say that Vicky, dear.  I’ve been so looking forward to seeing you all again,” drawled a voice from the doorway.

Ruth and Vicky stiffened and turned.  Delia floated regally into the room, carrying a glass of gin and martini she had poured for herself in the library and sank gracefully into Charles’s chair at the head of the table, her action giving rise to her ambitions.

Her hair flowed freely over a vast amount of cleavage revealed by her low cut black sequined top, and her black silk skirt swirled around her legs as she sat down.  Sex appeal was paramount and Ruth watched in fascination.  She had forgotten how stunningly beautiful Delia was.

“Well, do sit down girls … and where the devil is Hardy?  I’m simply famished.  Christ, this place has gone to pot since I left.”

Ruth bit her lip and forced back a sharp retort.  Delia was not going to make her angry if she could help it.  She was the Duchess of Canleigh.  She turned over the gold wedding band on her finger and played with her engagement ring, thinking longingly of Charles, languishing in hospital.  How she needed him here now.  She felt quite out of her depth as she took her seat at the table.

“If we must put up with your presence Delia, the least you can do is be civil,” snapped Vicky, sitting beside Ruth.  She had no wish to sit near Delia.  The last time they had seen each other was in this very room when Vicky had accused Delia of seducing Barrie.  Vicky recalled that evening with a shudder.  Just seeing Delia again had brought it all back with a shocking force.  She had thought she had gotten over it, put it in the past but being here again with her sister and hearing her mocking, sarcastic tones, reminded her sharply of how she had felt on that night.

“Ah, Hardy,” Delia said as the butler entered the room.  “We were wondering where you were.  We’re all ravenously hungry.”

“I’m sorry, Your Ladyship.  I was called away to the telephone.”  He looked at Ruth.  “Lord Wiltshire.  He was just confirming his attendance at the funeral, Your Grace.”

Ruth nodded.  The funeral in two days’ time was going to be a minefield for her, meeting so many members of the aristocracy whom she had not met before and having to entertain them afterwards in the ballroom, which would be set up after the removal of Richard’s coffin, for refreshments for the guests.

Hardy served the meal but while Delia ate with gusto, Ruth and Vicky pushed the