Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) by Carole Williams (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

guides, gazing round the ancient, beautiful city with wide-eyed appreciation listening to tales of how both the famous and infamous had either studied or idled at one or other of the revered colleges.

Charles could have happily remained watching the scene unfolding but hungry customers in search of tables were looking at him hopefully once he had finished his light meal.  With disinclination he ambled back outside into the warm sunshine and looked around, wondering what to do for the remainder of the afternoon.  Wandering aimlessly down Turl Street to the left of the Mitre, he passed Lincoln College and Jesus College and finally made his way into Broad Street and made a beeline for Blackwell’s bookshop.  A most pleasurable hour was spent browsing through the shelves, resulting in the addition of a number of new books to add to the already vast collection at Canleigh, a tingle of self-satisfaction from seeing four of his own novels displayed prominently, and being recognised by the manager who engaged him in a thoroughly enjoyable chat about historical fiction.

He returned to the Randolph to read one of his new acquisitions for a few hours, unable to resist the urge to keep looking at his watch.  An afternoon had never seemed to drag so and it was gratifying when, finally, he could shower and change into his favourite navy suit.  He examined himself in the mirror.  Would he look old to this young girl he was about to take to dinner?  He still didn’t have any wrinkles and there was no sign of baldness.  Thanks to a sensible diet and a regime of regular swimming and walking he wasn’t overweight.  He looked nervously at his watch again.  It was time to leave.  He went down to reception and collected the bouquet of red and white roses ordered earlier and drove along to Walton Street, relieved that Richard would be on the wards and there would be no chance of bumping into him or being seen with Ruth.

Ruth opened the door of her flat on his knock and his eyes widened with appreciation.  She looked simply lovely.  Her hair was unhampered by pins and bows and rested neatly on her shoulders and she was wearing a close-fitting pale blue dress, emphasising her perfect figure.  Her shoes and handbag were of soft white leather and there was a white jacket over her arm.

“Hello,” she said shyly.

“Hello, Ruth,” Charles said quietly.  “It’s so lovely to see you again.  These are for you,” he said, holding out the bouquet, hoping she wouldn’t notice how his hands were beginning to shake.  He couldn’t ever remember being this nervous, not even during the war when he was about to take off in a Spitfire and fight the Germans.  It was an emotion quite alien to him.

“They are lovely,” Ruth remarked, blushing deeply.  “Thank you … please … come in.  I’ll just put pop them in water.”

She laid her jacket and bag on the sofa and walked through into the tiny kitchen.  He followed and watched her take out two crystal vases, a present from her mother, and arrange the flowers with expertise.

“Where did you learn to do that?  They look fabulous … a work of art.”

Ruth had sensed he was as nervous as she had been while she was getting ready but now he was here she felt calmer and at ease, just as he had made her feel at Canleigh. She smiled.  How did he do that?  All her shyness was rapidly evaporating and she was looking forward to whatever the evening might bring in the company of this gorgeous man.  She pulled a face.  “Mother insisted I went to classes … years ago … you know how it is … one of those trifles a woman has to excel at to get on in the world.”  She grinned at him and he grinned back.

At ease with each other, they walked out to the Rolls.  Charles held open the door for her and she slid gracefully into the luxury of the car, loving the fragrance of polished leather and his cologne as he settled into the driver’s seat beside her.  All her nerves had vanished and she was already enjoying herself immensely as they glided through Oxford towards the restaurant Charles had carefully picked for their evening together.

Their table was to the rear of the dining room, in a quiet position overlooking the street below.  They were shielded from the view of other diners by a discreet screen and a table on which sat a variety of flourishing greenery in enormous pots.  Perfect for well-known people who required privacy while they dined.

The meal and champagne ordered, Charles took her hand and smiled.  “Now, Ruth.  How are you, really?  I do so wish you hadn’t rushed off so quickly yesterday.  I could have driven you back to Oxford if you hadn’t wanted to travel with Richard.  It’s none of my business, of course, but you obviously had words.”

Ruth looked down at the table and played with the white damask napkin, knowing there were things about Richard she could never tell him.  She still couldn’t believe it herself.  How he had physically attacked her.  Charles must never know.  He would be mortified that his son and heir could behave in such a manner.

“It was just a silly tiff,” she said.  “Something and nothing.  We were both tired … and were beginning to get on each other’s nerves.  It wouldn’t have been a good idea to spend a few hours cooped up in a car together.  It was for the best.  For me to return on the train.”  She looked up at him.  “I am sorry.  I do hope you weren’t offended.  I thoroughly enjoyed Canleigh … the hospitality … being looked after so well by Hardy … the house, everything in it … and the grounds … are pretty impressive, to say the least, but Richard and me