Chapter Fourteen

After dinner and dessert, Catherine and Graham both said goodnight to Ruth. Graham impulsively gave her a hug, which Harry wasn't sure he liked, but Ruth laughed and beamed happily, hugging him back. Catherine seemed in shockingly good spirits about everything, having warmed up to Ruth immensely through the meal. And after Malcolm went back to the kitchen to clean up and the children went up to their rooms, Harry was finally alone with Ruth.

"Seems you won everyone over," he commented, wrapping his arms around her. "I knew you would."

She just hummed in response.

"I don't think Tom would like it if you spent the night, or else I'd invite you upstairs," he murmured softly, kissing her cheek.

Ruth gave a somewhat tight smile. "Yes, I should be getting home. I'll see you at work tomorrow, Harry."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, Ruth," he reminded her, moving his gentle kisses down her jaw.

"Oh. Right." Her tone was somewhat distracted, but Harry just chocked that up to the way he was nuzzling against her neck.

"You'd better leave before I can't bear to let you go," he whispered.

Ruth pulled away from him then. "Of course. I'll see you at work." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and went to the front door.

Harry was a bit taken aback from her quick departure. "Can I come by and see you tomorrow?" he asked, hurrying after her.

"I've got family things to do this weekend. I'll see you at work," she repeated.

And with that, she was gone. Harry was left standing in the foyer, watching Tom help Ruth into the car and drive off. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He had thought the evening went so well. Had he read the situation incorrectly? That would have been very unlike him.

All weekend, Harry's mood worsened. He was quiet at meals, as the dining table reminded him of when Ruth had been there with them. He replayed the evening a million times. When had she been uncomfortable? How had he missed that she was unhappy? The children were perhaps a bit enthusiastic over Ruth being a princess, but they were perfectly nice about it. And she'd seemed pleasant enough. Smiling and answering their questions patiently. And then when they'd all said goodnight, Graham's hug may have been a bit inappropriate, but that couldn't have been enough to ruin the evening, could it? Harry had told Graham before Ruth arrived that she would like him for how could anyone not like him? His son was a sweet boy and surely growing into a fine young man. Was his affection too much for her? Did she perhaps worry that Graham wanted a mother and did Ruth not want to fill such a role? Harry dearly hoped that wasn't the problem. After all, at twelve and fourteen, his children were practically grown. It wasn't as though Ruth or any other woman with whom Harry got involved would need to do too much mothering to his children. And that's not what Harry wanted Ruth for at all. Certainly she should know that by now.

As he continued to worry over what might be bothering Ruth, Harry knew he'd not get any answers or figure anything out from pure conjecture. The only thing would be to talk to Ruth himself. They'd had a rather open relationship thus far, to his mind. And at work, of course, they both were very comfortable discussing things. Disagreements and such were of no bother to either of them.

And so, on Sunday morning, after breakfast, Harry picked up the phone to call Ruth's house. Marta, the maid, answered the phone as usual.

"Hello, Marta," he greeted kindly. "It's Harry. Can I speak to Ruth, please?"

Marta hesitated slightly. "Miss Ruth is unavailable, Sir Harry," she replied.

"Could you tell her I called? And if she's able, could she ring me back today?"

"I'll let her know, sir."

"Thank you, Marta."

He hung up after that, feeling even worse than before, if possible. She had said she was doing family things. Which meant some sort of royal duty, usually. Or perhaps she was just visiting with her father or grandfather. She might actually be unavailable. Harry was surely reading too much into things. She probably wasn't avoiding him. Why should she be? Things were going well, after all. And the strangeness of Ruth's demeanor when she left his house on Friday probably wasn't an indication of anything. No use borrowing trouble. He'd see her at work tomorrow and they'd be just as happy as before.

Monday rolled around and Harry went into the office early. He usually went in at least one day on the weekends, so he was sure there was a lot for him to catch up on. There was chatter of unrest in some of the colonies, particularly the island nations, so he wanted to keep well-informed on that.

Only a few of the officers were in when Harry arrived. Ruth hadn't come in yet, which was fine. He'd speak to her later. He immediately got to work reviewing reports. And then he got a call from the Director and another from one of the other intelligence department heads. By the time he had a chance to look up again, Ruth was in the office and working hard on reports of her own. He'd not bother her yet. Maybe he'd see if she wanted to have lunch with him later. But then the phone rang again, and he was detained for another hour.

As soon as he hung up with the Director of Colonial Affairs, the door to his office opened—without knocking, of course. "Harry, I need your signature on these orders," Ruth said brusquely.

"Ah there you are," he greeted with a smile.

"Yes, I need you to sign these," she replied, not joining with his friendly demeanor.

"What am I signing?" Harry asked, hoping to get business out of the way so he could talk to her for five minutes before the bloody phone rang again.

Ruth opened the file folder and put it on his desk. "Renewing contracts with these assets," she replied.

He quickly skimmed over each one before signing, as they all seemed to be in order and Ruth could obviously be trusted to not put anything in front of him that wasn't correct.

"Thank you," she said, collecting the file as soon as he'd signed the last page.

"Hang on a moment," he called before she could leave.

She turned back toward him. "Yes, Harry, what do you need?"

It was clear to him that she was not in a very personable mood. Probably best not to discuss private matters right now. "Can I take you to dinner tonight?" he asked.

Ruth averted her gaze from his, looking down at the floor. "No, I don't think so."

"Alright, tomorrow?"

She looked back up at him. "I think it's best if we don't go out together anymore. It isn't right, you carrying on a romantic relationship with a subordinate. It undermines your authority, and that is unacceptable. People…people are laughing about it."

Harry's head was swimming. Was she...breaking up with him? What had begun as a slight worry that she hadn't liked his children had been blown into something altogether different. Office gossip? Who bloody cared about office gossip?! "What do you mean?" he asked. His voice came out embarrassingly feeble.

"People know that we've been together and I just…I don't like being talked about. It's fine when it's Princess Louisa in the papers, I know that comes with the territory. But people here know me as me, Harry. And I've worked so hard to prove that I'm more than just the princess whose father got her a job in the government, and now for people to think I'm sleeping my way up the ladder?"

"Who's saying that?" he demanded. How anyone could think that was appalling.

"I don't know, but they will," she replied weakly.

That did it. There was no office gossip. She was inventing reasons for them to stop seeing each other, and Harry would have none of it. "Ruth, I have witnessed the most gruesome atrocities known to man. I have seen and done the worst that could ever be conceived. I have been captured and tortured during war. And if you think someone laughing at me is going to bother me…"

"This isn't about you, Harry!" she snapped. "I just…please, just drop this."

"No, Ruth, I won't drop this. You've been avoiding me, haven't you, since Friday? You came to my house and met my children and now you're making excuses. Now out with it!" he insisted. "Was it Graham or Catherine? Did they do or say something to upset you?"

She shook her head. Her face was growing red and tears were forming in her eyes that she was trying to keep from falling, he could tell. "No, your children are wonderful. Smart and sweet and wonderful."

"Then what is it?" he pressed.

"Before Friday, I didn't know that they existed!"

That wasn't what he'd expected her to say at all. "What do you mean, you didn't know they existed? I know I don't talk about my family much, but you've read my personnel file, you know I have children."

"No, Harry. I read your service record. Once we started seeing each other, I assumed I'd learn about you from our spending time together. And you don't just 'not talk about your family much.' You have never once mentioned the fact that you have children. And the amount of time you spend with me instead of with them? That's not right, Harry. You should be at home. You should be with your family. I know what it's like to grow up without a mother, and I cannot imagine what I would have done if my father was off in some woman's bed instead of with me. I know Graham and Catherine have Malcolm, but it's not the same. You're their father."

Her words were well out of line. And Harry knew he should have reacted calmly and explained things. But he couldn't. He got angry. "So that's it, is it? You want us to stop seeing each other because I'm a bad father? Christ, Ruth, I've been a bad father most of their lives but at least I'm with them now! And my parenting is my business and not any of your concern."

"No, but what is my concern is the fact that I've been sleeping with a man I apparently know nothing about! What else have you not thought to tell me? What other vital information about you have you decided I don't need to be aware of? Should I compile a research report on your life just so I can be better educated?"

"No, don't be stupid."

"I didn't think I was being stupid, but apparently I have been since I met you. But don't worry about it, Harry, you've got enough to handle. I'll not bother you for anything that isn't work related anymore."

And with that, she stormed out of his office. He watched her go back to her desk and organize the file of signed orders and start making phone calls. The crease between her brows of concentration and frustration was deeper than usual, but she otherwise did not look like anything was wrong. Harry, on the other hand, felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his whole world.