A Lasting Impression

took long strides, the muscles in his legs tightened up from the ride from town. He loosened his tie and angled his neck from side to side. The mansion loomed ahead, the open windows in the front study aglow with lamplight. The curtains billowed in the breeze. As he grew closer, he thought he caught the murmur of feminine voices.
    He pictured Claire again from that morning, when he’d asked her about whether or not she liked the opera. Recalling her response, he again felt properly chastised. She’d tried to mask her true feelings, but pretense wasn’t her forte. She said she didn’t have any interest in attending the opera, but that wasn’t true. And it made him feel smaller inside somehow, for not appreciating something that she longed to experience.
    Another image of her arose, and he grinned, remembering her pretending to choke. Adorable. She’d been so proud of herself, which made it even more comical. He’d tried his best not to stare at her over breakfast, but it hadn’t been easy. He’d thought she was pretty the first time he’d seen her in the church, all mussed up and with her dress wrinkled.
    But this morning in the kitchen . . .
    She’d been downright intoxicating. That fresh look of sleep about her, the dimples when she laughed, the way she’d hopped right in beside him to cook the eggs. She hadn’t even seemed to notice when their bodies brushed against each other in the process—he exhaled—but he sure had. He noticed details about her that a man who had an understanding with another woman shouldn’t.
    It wasn’t that he never thought about Cara Netta. It was just that he never thought about her the way he thought about Claire Laurent. The realization wasn’t reassuring.
    Bits of conversation drifted toward him through the open window as he climbed the front steps.
    “Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly how I’m picturing it. I’m also imagining . . .”
    “That idea actually appeals to me, Miss Laurent. The boys competing against the girls . . .”
    Sutton shook his head. Adelicia would find that appealing. The woman had a competitive streak a mile wide. He had an inkling Claire did too. Heaven help these two women if they ever got into a competition with each other. Claire would probably allow her employer to win, as well she should, though he couldn’t be certain. Mrs. Acklen would simply go for broke and never give up.
    What a combination . . .
    If only Adelicia had hired someone a little more homely. Someone who didn’t have “that way” of looking at him that made him feel more like a schoolboy than a grown man. But it wasn’t only Claire’s loveliness that attracted him. He was often in the company of beautiful women, yet they didn’t linger in his thoughts the way Claire Laurent did. They didn’t make him want to invent excuses to see them again.
    It wasn’t prudent, he knew, his being so attracted to her. First, she was an employee of Mrs. Acklen’s. Second, he was supposed to be watching her—which he was certainly doing, but at least in part for his own personal reasons.
    The entrance hall was dark, save for the lamps in the small study. Their flickering glow cast a sliver of light onto the statue before the fireplace, giving Ruth Gleaning an almost ghostlike quality. He understood why Adelicia had purchased the statue. It was exquisite. But it still surprised him that she’d placed it in such a prominent place, where everyone entering the home would see it. A rather bold choice.
    Looking more closely at the sculptor’s lifelike detailing, he remembered the Biblical account and imagined what Boaz’s reaction would have been to such a display, however unintended by dear, innocent Ruth. The poor man wouldn’t have stood a chance against Ruth’s doleful gaze and her lovely physical attributes, for lack of a better—
    “Good evening, Mr. Monroe.”
    Startled at the voice behind him, Sutton turned. “Mrs. Routh . . .” He smiled to mask his jumpiness. Somehow the woman always managed to sneak up on him. “I didn’t realize you were here, ma’am. How are you this evening?”
    “I’m well, sir. Thank you.” She dipped her head in a subservient manner. “I heard you arrive and wanted to make sure you weren’t in need of anything before I retire for the evening.”
    “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Routh. But no, I don’t need anything. I’m simply here to meet with Mrs. Acklen. Then I’ll be retiring myself.”
    “Very well, sir. Good evening,