Page 21 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Twenty-One

Rule #21: Never try to hide your true feelings from your family…mothers always seem to know

Ruth saw Willowbrook come into view through the small, dirty carriage window and leaned back in her seat. The journey had been much more pleasant this time. Lady Helena’s face was still green from the motion, but she had only needed to stop once.

“If you go directly to your chamber, I will see about a pot of tea,” Ruth said gently.

“No, darling.” Lady Helena lifted a hand to stave off the subject. “Anna will see to me. You can visit your horse.”

Rosaline would not know if Ruth spent an hour inside before greeting her, of course, but she was eager to go to the stables all the same. Ruth smiled widely. As though she would choose a horse over her mother. “She can wait. I would like to see you comfortably settled first.”

Lady Helena’s bright eyes searched for her. They glanced to the window before closing again. “You are the kindest of daughters, but it is not necessary. Does Oliver intend to come directly to speak to your father?”

A fissure of unease wound its way through Ruth. “I asked him to wait until tomorrow.”

“Strange, then. I thought I saw him nearing the house just now. Must have been a groom.”

Ruth lurched for the window, searching the gravel drive that spread out before the house and seeing a rider slow his horse just before the stone steps. Oliver’s form was unmistakable, the familiar wide shoulders and perfect posture as he commanded his horse to slow. But why had he come early?

“You will allow me to escape to my room immediately now, I suppose,” Lady Helena said with a whisper of a smile.

Ruth’s lips flattened. “I do not know what you find to be so amusing. If Oliver is here a day early, then he likely does not bear good news.”

“Or the man is so besotted with you, he could hardly wait until tomorrow.”

If only that was the case, but Ruth knew better. Theirs was an arrangement borne out of a need to save her reputation and nothing more. She questioned whether she could manage being married to a man she loved with the knowledge he had only wed her from obligation, but it stung. Could love grow in time? Perhaps. But it was a risk she was afraid to take.

Sucking in air through her teeth, she watched the house disappear from view as the carriage curved around the road to pull up in front. Her heart raced, her fingers shaky with anticipation. There was no denying how she felt.

Oliver removed his hat and bowed when the women exited the carriage. He gave them a smile, but his eyes were tight. Ruth knew immediately she had been correct. Something was not quite right.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” he asked, approaching them .

“It was slow,” Lady Helena answered, “but far better than our ride to Rocklin.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Is there…” Ruth searched for the right words. Oliver’s fingers kneaded the edge of his hat, and he would soon ruin it if she did not find a way to cease his fidgeting. “Have you come to speak to my father?”

Oliver looked sharply at her. If she was not mistaken, she detected anguish and fear, not the lovelorn look of a man coming to confess his adoration and appreciation for the woman he had recently become engaged to. Pain sliced through her swiftly, but she did her best to cover it. If the idea of meeting with her father was truly so terrible, he needn’t go through with it.

“Or would you prefer we ride?” she asked, quickly providing him an alternative.

Oliver swallowed, his throat bobbing. “I had hoped it would be your immediate objective, and that I could take advantage of the fact to ride out with you. If you have no plans to do so, however?—”

“It was the first thing on my list,” she said, looking to Lady Helena to corroborate her claim.

Her stepmother smiled at him. “Would you like to wait inside while Ruth changes?”

“I will wait in the stables, if that is acceptable.”

“Of course,” Lady Helena said kindly, her voice warmer than it had been in the carriage.

“I will dress with haste,” Ruth told him.

“No need.” He gave a half-smile. “I could spend all day with those horses.”

Yes, she knew that. All the same, Ruth hurried inside. She found Sarah unpacking her trunk and was glad the servants had been able to travel faster than she and her stepmother, because her riding habit was already hung and airing. She was dressed in record time, her hair smoothed and put up again, her hat secured to her head.

When she returned to the stables, she found Oliver standing at Rosaline’s stall, his arms crossed over the gate and his head bent, resting upon his folded arms. The sight was harrowing enough to cause her steps to falter. His body bent in anguish, grief curving him in on himself.

“Oliver?” she asked.

He straightened, putting his hat on his head. “Are you ready?”

“Oliver,” she repeated, coming closer. “You are clearly troubled. We need not ride today.”

“On the contrary. A ride is precisely what I need.”

She hesitated. Was he here in search of more distraction? It further solidified her need to break their false engagement before it could spiral out of their control. “I feel it important to disabuse you of the notion that you need to save me. I need no saving. We will remain friends. I can accept the responsibility and consequences of my actions, and I feel capable of weathering any resulting storms.”

His jaw worked as she gave her speech. “Are you quite finished trying to sacrifice yourself, Ruth?”

“It is not a sacrifice to give you freedom. I stand by my words. Our friendship will remain intact.”

He did not reply immediately, instead stepping forward and bringing a fresh wave of cedar and citrus, pushing out the pungent smell of horses and making her knees weak. The smell took her back to the moonlit garden immediately, transporting her as if by magic. She could feel the ghost of his fingertips on her skin, his hands expertly cradling her head, and yearned to feel it again.

Drawing in a quick breath, she took a step back.

Oliver shook his head. “Shall we ride now?”

“We need to discuss this. ”

“We can do so just as easily far away from here,” he countered.

He was right. The grooms could be listening. Ruth nodded, watching him step aside to allow her into Rosaline’s stall. The horse was happy to see her, already saddled and waiting. Rosaline tossed her head, then nuzzled Ruth’s neck, huffing hot breath on the open skin at her nape.

They were seated and riding away from Willowbrook House minutes later, the wind whipping over her face. Ruth breathed in deeply, directing her horse toward the familiar hedge she liked to jump. Oliver had accompanied her enough times to know the aim of her direction, and he patiently followed. A rush of adrenaline flowed through her body after Rosaline soared through the air and her hooves hit the ground. Ruth’s chest heaved from the exercise, and she looked over her shoulder to find Oliver had jumped it after her, bringing his horse easily to her side.

“That was incredible,” she said.

“You are a skilled horsewoman.”

“In that, we are well matched.” Ruth immediately regretted the words. They would not be matched for long. She swallowed, pulling at Rosaline to direct her toward Oliver, though she faced him now. Their knees would nearly be brushing if both of her legs were not on the other side of the horse, but she twisted her waist to see him. “May we speak plainly now? I do not intend to hold you to the engagement. We can find a way to lessen the damage, surely.”

“Is that what you prefer?”

“I prefer not to marry a man who finds the notion unpalatable.”

“Unpalat— gads , Ruth. You were in the garden, too. How can you possibly think that of me?”

“I did not say you did not enjoy the kiss,” she said evenly, ignoring the heat rising up her neck. “Only that a marriage is not necessary.”

He searched her face, his eyebrows drawing together. “I see.”

“One can certainly enjoy kissing a person without wishing to lash their lives together. Marriage is…permanent.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“Then we are of the same mind.”

Oliver did not reply. He looked past her, toward the field that skirted his land. They had ridden so far now they were nearer to Boone Park than they were Willowbrook. “If that is what you want, I will accept it.”

Disappointment settled low in her gut. It was not at all what she wanted, but she understood it was how things would work. “My father must still be informed. He will likely be able to help us find a way to smoothly break the engagement. By now, word will have already begun to spread, so we must be mindful of how we proceed.”

“In that, we might have more time than you think.” Oliver looked again toward Boone Park before settling a rueful smile on her. His horse took a restless step away, but he got him under control. “My father has returned already, and Dr. Burnside has been to see him. It seems we do not have long.”

“Oh, Oliver,” she said, reaching for him out of impulse. Their horses were far too distanced, and the space between her hand and him left an unsatisfying clawing in her chest.

His horse took another restless step away before he commanded it to draw closer to the old oak tree and dismounted. Tossing his reins over a low-hanging, gnarled branch, Oliver removed his hat and rested it on the saddle before tugging his hand through his hair.

Ruth did not consider the consequences of dismounting here. Her friend was grieving, and he needed her. She slid down Rosaline’s side, her feet hitting the ground with a jarring thud. Surely he would help her into the saddle again .

When she stepped closer, Oliver looked up, leaning away from her. “What did Dr. Burnside have to say?”

“Nothing different than the doctor in Thistledale who had already been seeing to my fa—to the captain.”

That was strange.

Oliver looked down into her eyes. “This is not easy to explain, but I think you understand my meaning. If the captain only has a little time remaining, then I will soon go into mourning, and we will have months to find a way to clear your name. Perhaps you will find someone else in that time. Or I can leave the country in my grief. You will be pitied in your abandonment and a broken engagement would be understood. There are many options available to us.”

“Oliver,” she said boldly, his name like a promise. “I do not intend to use your father’s death in any such manner. There is no reason we must make any decisions today. You needn’t think of anything but being with your father.”

A sheen in his eyes betrayed his emotion, shocking Ruth. He had already lost so much, and now this. It was the outside of enough. Ruth would not press anything.

“We will remain engaged, then,” he said, his voice low and scratchy.

“For the time being, yes. We can pretend to be happy with the arrangement for as long as you need, then consider the matter again in the future.” The last thing he needed to do during his time of grief was plan a trip to the Continent in order to save her. It was ludicrous. The very notion of such an absence made her chest hurt.

She took his hand between both of hers, layers of gloves separating their skin. Squeezing softly, she willed him to look in her eyes. “We are friends first, Oliver. I am here for you.”

He closed his eyes. The sense of relief drawing his shoulders down made her yearn to take him in her arms. Ruth closed the distance between them, sliding her hands up and around his neck and burying her face in the folds of his cravat. She breathed in the fresh smell of cedar and citrus again, letting it fill her with comfort.

When Oliver’s hands went around her back, his head resting on hers, warmth washed through her body like a flood. His stubble scratched at her temple as she shifted her head, bringing her lips up to meet his again. This kiss differed from before. Where the moment in the moonlit garden was fevered and quick, this was slow and delicate, the gentle pulling and pressing of his lips, the soft pressure of his hand on her back, the wind brushing her hair. She sank into this kiss, letting him hold her, letting it linger.

When Oliver stopped, he leaned back, his eyes remaining closed.

If he was not ready to face the world, then she would not require it of him. Ruth pulled him down for another kiss, and he guided her backward until her shoulder pressed into the tree trunk. He leaned against her, taking her head in his hands and tenderly guiding her. Ruth was uncertain how long they remained there, her sense of time lost to the feeling of his warm, soft lips devouring her. She had never felt so wanted, so whole, as she did in Oliver’s embrace.

And even while she stood beneath the tree, letting him pour his grief into her and accepting it with aplomb, she knew her heart was forever lost to him.

She loved Oliver.