Page 13 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Thirteen

SAMUEL

Rule #13: Never write to an unmarried gentleman unless you want him to believe you are in love with him

The moment Samuel entered his room, he closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He couldn’t afford to be disturbed.

A servant had laid a small fire, so he used it to light a candle and carried it to the table. He’d obtained a writing sample from Ruth, which meant he could discover if she was his mysterious letter writer. Part of him hoped she was, if only so the mystery would be solved. He could set about proving their compatibility and convincing her—with the letters, of course—to give him a chance.

The other part of him had grown exhausted by her refusals. If Ruth was not the writer, that meant he was falling in love with someone else in Harewood. But whom? The hamlet was small. He knew everyone who lived in the area.

It didn’t bear thinking about, not until he had ascertained whether Ruth was the one .

Pulling both letters from his pocket, Samuel smoothed them out on the small desk. He drew in a deep breath and ran his eyes over Ruth’s letter. It wasn’t immediately apparent. Both writers had smooth, loopy handwriting, their words flowing with elegance and practice—the hand of someone formally trained, at the very least.

But there were differences. Ruth embellished her capital letters with far more flourishes than the mystery writer, and her letters had a consistent slant to them the mystery writer lacked. It didn’t take much time to determine the letters had been written by two different people, unless Ruth had disguised her handwriting as part of an elaborate scheme in which she knew Samuel to be her writing companion and wrote the letter to be certain he didn’t discover her identity.

But that was madness.

He frowned, slumping in his seat while he considered how he felt about this new information. He had spent so long convincing himself Ruth could be the one he had been passing letters with. Knowing it wasn’t her left a small hole in his thoughts.

Harewood didn’t boast that many young women. There were a few possibilities, but if Samuel had ever seen himself seriously considering any of them, he would have pursued them already. Or had his attraction and feelings for Ruth clouded his thoughts and prevented him from developing feelings for another woman?

Miss Kimball was beautiful, if a little prideful. Miss Snubbs was older than him by a few years, but that would hardly matter if she was the person he had been connecting with. Miss James hadn’t lived in Harewood long, and she was far too quiet for Samuel to know her well yet, but her parents seemed like good people.

What if his mysterious letter writer wasn’t a member of his class at all? What if one of the servants at Boone Park had learned proper handwriting? What if the Hansens’ new governess happened to be the one? A governess with proper training would surely write with such a good hand. Samuel could not discount a servant, not entirely. Indeed, Ryland had married his son’s governess last year, and she was a wonderful person. Furthermore, they were happy to distraction.

Irritating, really, for everyone else who had to be in the same room as them. Samuel just wanted a match of his own.

It was particularly frustrating to be so wholly unaware of whom he was writing to. He had accidentally found a letter at a kissing gate during a walk into the village, replied to the letter, and gained a writing partner. More than that, he believed he had found a woman he could marry. In his mind, he had imagined it was Ruth. The path was right for it, the attitude on the page surely could have been her. Even so, all this time, he never pictured Ruth in his mind when he read her letters.

No, if nothing else, his unconscious mind knew it didn’t sound exactly like Ruth. His subconscious also knew things between her and Oliver had shifted, because when he had come out with those words the other day, claiming Oliver had feelings for Ruth, he hadn’t consciously decided to say anything of the sort. In fact, he hadn’t recalled thinking it, either. It had slipped out of his mouth, Oliver’s expression had confirmed it to be truth, and it settled in his chest as a fact.

None of that made the truth easy to accept, though. Samuel had covered his hurt well enough, he hoped, but the idea that his cousin had been harboring feelings for Ruth and suppressing them made him feel small. He had supplied his permission, so if he had been in any way a block to Oliver’s happiness, now there would be no such impediments.

If he had to watch Oliver marry Ruth, though…well, he needed more time before he could be so level-headed about that .

Given Captain Rose’s illness, though, he imagined Oliver would not try to court anyone quite yet. His thoughts were centered on his father, as they ought to be in this situation.

Samuel stood, loosening his cravat as he paced to the door and back. He felt unsettled, eager to return home. But his mother would be the only one in residence while his father was off fetching Captain Rose, and Samuel would far prefer to not find himself alone with her if he could help it. Her obsession with him being married had reached a head, and he felt like a little distance was necessary to restore balance.

A noise thudded in the corridor outside of his room, and Samuel paused, unbuttoning his waistcoat as he listened. It sounded as though Oliver had left his room, but surely it was someone else. Oliver wouldn’t leave Lord Rocklin’s house party without telling Samuel.

He finished undressing, preparing for bed, and all the while, his resolve hardened. He was going to convince Oliver to remain for the rest of the house party and do his best to keep the man distracted. Then, when he was home again, he would leave a new letter at the kissing gate—as had become their custom—and wait in the distance all day and all night until he discovered who his mysterious writer was.

One way or another, he would learn her identity. She was the woman he wanted to marry, after all.