By late morning, Ruth was dressed in the pale blue dress Lady Hamilton had brought.
She stood in front of the mirror while Lady Hamilton fixed a loose strand of her red hair behind her ear.
"You used to wear your hair differently," the older woman said.
Ruth touched the unfamiliar red locks.
"I was blonde."
"Yes."
"Do you hate this?"
Lady Hamilton met her gaze through the mirror.
"Darling, your hair could be blue and I would still be grateful you came home."
Ruth smiled.
"You may regret saying that. I might test you."
"I raised you. Nothing you do can surprise me."
"That sounds like a challenge."
Lady Hamilton laughed and kissed her temple.
When they entered the drawing room, Matthew immediately rose from the chaise.
He placed one hand over his chest and made an exaggerated bow.
"Lady Ruth."
Ruth lifted her chin.
"You may rise."
"You look exactly like your old self."
Her smile faded slightly.
Matthew noticed his mistake.
"Except for the hair," he added quickly. "And the expression. Old Ruth would never look at me as though she wanted to throw a vase at my head."
"Present Ruth might."
"There she is."
He smiled, and her discomfort vanished.
Marcus watched the exchange from beside the fireplace.
He had been waiting.
His eyes moved slowly over the familiar dress.
Ruth noticed.
She shifted closer to Matthew without thinking.
Marcus's mouth tightened.
The dress brought a memory so vivid it almost hurt.
Ruth had worn it during a private luncheon shortly before their wedding.
She had spilled champagne on his sleeve, blamed the server, then spent the next ten minutes hiding behind a curtain because she was laughing too hard to apologize.
He remembered everything.
She remembered nothing.
"You look beautiful," he said.
The room quieted.
Ruth glanced at him.
"Thank you."
Polite again.
Formal.
Marcus hated that tone more than her insults.
"Do you remember wearing it?"
Matthew's eyes immediately shifted toward his brother.
Ruth touched the embroidered sleeve.
"No."
"You wore it a few weeks before our wedding."
Her shoulders stiffened.
Marcus continued before anyone could intervene.
"We had lunch near Grayhaven Bay. You disappeared before dessert because you wanted to watch the boats."
Ruth gave a small nod.
"That sounds irresponsible."
"You were."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"You climbed over a barrier in heels because you said the view would be better from the other side."
Matthew laughed.
"That does sound like her."
Ruth looked between the brothers.
"Was I always difficult?"
Marcus's eyes softened.
"You were impossible."
Something in the way he said it made her chest tighten.
Not irritation.
Affection.
The kind born from remembering someone too well.
Marcus stepped closer.
"I thought we could go there today."
Ruth's smile disappeared.
"Where?"
"Grayhaven Bay."
Matthew straightened.
"Marcus—"
"It might help."
Ruth's fingers curled around the bracelet on her wrist.
"I just saw my parents again."
"I know."
"I would rather stay with them."
"It will not take long."
His certainty unsettled her.
Marcus was already treating her agreement as inevitable.
"Perhaps another day," Lady Hamilton suggested gently.
Marcus's jaw flexed.
"The longer we wait, the more difficult it may become for her to recover what she lost."
Ruth felt the room shrink around her.
The dress suddenly seemed too tight.
The bracelet was too cold.
Every person in the room knew who she had been.
Every person expected something from her.
A daughter.
A lady.
A wife.
Matthew stepped toward her.
"You don't have to go."
Ruth looked at him with immediate relief.
Marcus saw it.
The look pierced straight through him.
"I am only asking her to visit a place she loved," he said.
"You aren't asking," Matthew replied.
The brothers stared at each other.
Ruth's breathing grew shallow.
She hated the tension.
Hated feeling responsible for it.
"I'll go."
Everyone turned toward her.
Matthew frowned.
"Ruth, you don't have to."
"I know."
She forced a smile.
"It is only a place."
Marcus's face softened with relief.
He mistook surrender for trust.
"Good."
Ruth looked away.
She did not know why agreeing made her feel as though she had stepped willingly into a trap.