Page 15 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Fifteen

Rule #15: Never race on uneven ground

As it turned out, the distraction Oliver needed had been in front of him all along: helping Ruth find a husband. The words skated across his mind like blades on ice, uncomfortable, unable to find purchase on the smooth, cold surface. But there were two gentlemen showing some interest in her—Mr. Bailey and Mr. Edmonds—and Oliver made it his objective to learn as much as he could about each man.

Wycliffe was not here to do it, so Oliver would do so in his stead, as promised.

After Ruth had ascertained the corridor was empty last night, Oliver slipped out and made it safely back to his chamber unseen, but the interlude had left a mark on him. Lady Helena liked Mr. Bailey. She had invited Ruth to consider bringing the man home with them to further their acquaintance. It proved Lady Helena was serious about helping Ruth find a husband, which left a sour taste in Oliver’s mouth .

He made it to the stables the following morning bright and early, the crisp air permeating his coat and chilling his skin. When he rounded the corner, he came to an abrupt stop at finding Mr. Bailey and Mr. Edmonds speaking to Ruth in the center of the cobbled stable floor.

When she noticed Oliver, her face brightened. “Good morning, Mr. Rose.”

He dipped his head in a greeting to Ruth and each of the men.

“Care to see a demonstration?” Bailey asked. “Rocklin will meet us here after he eats breakfast. He wants to show Lightning this morning and asked me to warm the horse up.”

“Have you not been riding her all week?” Oliver asked. He had seen the powerful horse. It was a beauty, of course, but the childish bit inside Oliver did not want to watch Mr. Bailey look like the better rider of the men. He wanted that distinction, because he knew how much Ruth admired both horses and decent riders.

“This demonstration will show her speed,” Bailey said.

“I am interested in that,” Edmonds said. “Is she difficult to manage?”

“A little, but it’s nothing I cannot handle.”

Ruth beamed. “It seems we are in for a treat.” She looked small in the voluminous skirt of her violet riding habit. Her jaunty hat, set high on her head, made her cheekbones look defined. She was beautiful, her eyes sparkling, her smile vibrant. How was every man not clamoring at her feet? Samuel had made a cake out of himself for the last few years, yes, but he had been the only one Oliver knew of. It was confusing.

They each selected horses, waited for them to be saddled, and took them out. The sun was already rising, the blue sky fading into gray clouds. It appeared they were in for a storm shortly .

“We haven’t much time,” Oliver said to Ruth, bringing his horse alongside hers. “The rain will be here soon.”

“Hopefully, we have time enough. I would love to see that horse soar.”

The horse , he noticed. Not the man.

They followed the path toward the creek, skirting massive oak trees and passing the water to reach the wide, open field.

“Shall we race?” Bailey called. “I imagine he has warmed up enough.”

“You will win every time,” Edmonds said, shooting a knowing look at Ruth. “Not much fun in that.”

When had Ruth’s and Edmonds’ horses drawn so near one another? Had she set her sights on him, since she believed his sister to be in love with Bailey? Oliver took a deep breath. He was losing his mind.

Ruth said something to Edmonds that made him laugh, sending a flash of jealousy through Oliver’s gut.

“I will race you, Edmonds,” Oliver said before he could properly think it through. “Neither of us are riding Rocklin’s prize horse, so we are far more evenly matched.”

Edmonds grinned. “What will the winner receive? No forfeits this time.”

Oliver looked at Ruth before pinning his attention on Edmonds again. “The pleasure of Miss Wycliffe’s first dance tonight, if she will permit it.”

Edmonds laughed, looking at her. “Please agree, Miss Wycliffe. I am certain this gentleman will lead me to victory.” He patted the neck of his horse, who flicked his head as if in disagreement.

She gave a laugh. “Very well, though it is not an exciting prize.”

“We shall be the judges of that,” Edmonds said.

“I will ride to the other end and watch the finish line,” Bailey said. “Shall we make it that tree just there? ”

Oliver looked to where he had gestured and agreed. It was far enough from the fence line to be a safe stopping point.

The men lined up their horses and shook hands across the expanse between them.

“Are you ready?” Ruth asked.

Neither man spoke, but they each nodded.

“In that case, then go!”

Edmonds took off like a gunshot, Oliver just behind him. Their horses tore across the field, Oliver’s borrowed steed gaining on Edmonds’. He wasn’t certain who was in the lead, their horses neck-and-neck. Oliver wanted to win so badly he could taste it, could practically feel Ruth moving to the beat of the piano while he guided her through a dance. Feel the full weight of her attention, the pressure of her smile and what it did to his chest.

Oliver flew, wind beating against his cheeks and threatening to remove his hat. His yearning for Ruth broke down each of his emotions until the only thing remaining was utter desire. He maintained speed. Bailey drew closer, the end nearly there, when a shout tore through the air and Edmonds disappeared from Oliver’s peripheral vision.

Two seconds of hesitation passed before Oliver glanced over his shoulder. Edmonds was on the ground, his horse lying on top of him. Oliver turned back immediately, pulling his horse to a stop and sliding to the ground with a heavy thud. Edmonds cried out when his horse rolled off him and drew to stand, his face chalky white before he fainted, lying on the grassy earth. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle, but Oliver knew that to be the least of their worries.

If the pressure of the horse had caused damage to his organs—but no, he would not borrow concern until it was necessary.

Hoofbeats thundered toward them.

“We need to carry him back to the house,” Oliver said.

Bailey looked horrified. “His leg?— ”

“Yes, it cannot be helped. We can fasten one of our coats to two branches and fashion a way to keep him lying down while we carry him.”

“I’ll go in search of branches,” Bailey said, immediately turning his horse toward the copse of trees lining the stream.

“You do not happen to have smelling salts at hand, do you, Ruth?”

“No,” she said. It was a testament to her concern that she did not joke about her lack of need for them. “Shall I fetch some?”

Oliver glanced at Edmonds, his skin white and face slack. “No, it is probably better he remains asleep. Will you ride back to the house and send someone for a doctor?”

“Yes. I will send a groom out for the horse, too.”

He wanted to remind her to make haste, but it was unnecessary. After all, one horse had gone down on this terrain. He could never live with himself if Ruth’s horse did the same.

Leaning back on his heels, Oliver closed his eyes and breathed out. They weren’t anywhere near the house. This was bound to be a terribly painful interlude if Edmonds awoke.

He hoped the man remained blissfully unconscious for as long as he could.

It had taken Bailey a long while to find two branches sturdy enough to hold Edmonds’ weight, and even longer to convey them back to where Oliver waited. They removed their coats, using the reins from Bailey’s horse to secure them to the branches. It was not the best work, but given the circumstances, it had done the job well enough. Positioning Edmonds had been the tricky part. The man woke just as they were lifting him from the ground. He cried out, then fainted again.

Oliver believed it to be a small blessing. They knew he was well enough if he could wake, and hopefully he had not hit his head too hard. But his pain was clearly unparalleled.

Together, they worked swiftly and cautiously, Oliver at the head and Bailey at the feet, carrying Edmonds toward the house and leaving the horses behind. When a groom located them, they explained where the accident had happened and let him find the lost horses on his own.

“This was not what I had in mind for our morning race,” Bailey said, his breath heaving.

Oliver’s arms were growing tired, the weight straining against his muscles. “Indeed,” he agreed through his own huffing.

“I’d hoped to impress Miss Wycliffe this morning. Do you think she will find us very gallant?” There was an edge to Bailey’s words that made them sound self-effacing.

Oliver was grateful he did not have to look in Bailey’s eyes while having this conversation. Immediately, his smile soured, his stomach dropping, the familiar distaste returning. It was abundantly clear his ill feelings toward Bailey were rooted in jealousy. On further recollection, the man had neither said nor done anything to deserve the ire Oliver held for him.

Indeed, Ruth would find this sacrifice and effort very gallant, and Oliver could not very well lie to the man. “She has a soft heart for animals, so I imagine she will be worried about both Edmonds and his horse.”

“Meeting her has been a pleasant surprise during this house party. My expectations were low when I accepted the invitation, but it was time I did my part to continue the family line. You understand, I am sure.”

Oliver certainly understood a desire to not be the stopping point in his family line, but that was as far as he wanted to concede. Hadn’t Ruth been concerned about a liaison between Bailey and Miss Edmonds? He turned his head, hoping Bailey could hear him easily. “Forgive my impudence, but I had wondered if you’d set your sights on Miss Edmonds.”

“I considered it,” Bailey said honestly. Oliver could not see his expression with the way they were carrying Edmonds, but he could hear him clearly enough. “But there is something about her that is not quite right. She will flirt and smile and laugh…” He took a break to breathe, shifting the branches in his hands. “But then she looks away, and it is apparent she has no true interest in the conversation. She is merely biding her time.”

Biding her time . Oliver nearly stopped walking but caught himself in time. “I felt the same.”

“Ah, then I am not mad. I wondered briefly if I was inventing those feelings in my mind. There is simply no understanding women sometimes.”

On the contrary. There was no understanding the games some women played. But Ruth? She was a book he had read so many times he knew it cover to cover. He could feel the shifts in her moods and guess precisely how she was feeling. He could predict when she would find something humorous enough to laugh.

Evidently Ruth had not been able to read Bailey well enough, because she was entirely wrong about the way he felt about Miss Edmonds.

“Has she always been this way?” Oliver asked.

“Who, Miss Edmonds?” Bailey gave a small laugh. “I only met her for the first time last week. Miss Wycliffe seems different, though,” Bailey continued, oblivious to the turmoil within Oliver’s head. “She does not seem the sort of woman for manipulation or games.”

“She is a master at games,” Oliver said. Had she not developed a ridiculous set of rules merely to avoid Samuel for the last few years? “But you are correct about manipulation—Ruth does not have an unkind or deceitful bone in her body.”

Bailey gave a thoughtful sound, and they resumed silence just as a heavy, cold drop fell on his cheekbone. The rain had arrived.

Picking up their pace, the men walked as quickly as they could while the rain steadily increased. They’d used their coats to carry Edmonds, so they had nothing with which to cover him. The sky darkened with thick, gray clouds, but when Oliver glanced up to the horizon, he could see the edges of Rocklin’s estate come into view. There was still a good deal of land between them and the house, but they were near the end, which was both gratifying and exhausting.

Oliver readjusted his hold on the branches and breathed deeply while the rain hammered his shoulders and hat and likely soaked the injured Edmonds.

Despite his physical discomfort, the thing plaguing him most was the information Bailey had shared about Miss Edmonds. Oliver could not keep it to himself. Ruth ought to know that Bailey had no designs on Miss Edmonds, whatever the lady believed. As loath as he was to admit it, Bailey appeared a decent chap with a good income, a healthy estate, a talent for riding, a love for horses, and an interest in Ruth. He was a real suitor with a chance at winning her hand.

It bothered Oliver, but he was in no position to fight for her hand, not when he was in the emotional state he was in, waiting for news about his father and mourning the loss of his grandmother—the only mother figure he’d ever known. Besides, she had as much as explained she would never look at him that way.

Oliver blinked water from his eyes and searched his stamina for more energy. His arms strained against the weight, the branches growing slick with rain. Currently, he likely resembled a drowned hunting dog, but his emotions were just as messy, and Ruth deserved far better than a mess.

She deserved someone precisely like Bailey.

Now, he just needed to find the courage to tell her what he had learned.