Page 25 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rule #25: If a man you love says he wants to kiss you, oblige him

The naked longing in Oliver’s expression had cut straight through Ruth. He had pushed through the doors into Ryland’s drawing room, his broad shoulders and strong arms clad in all black down to the tips of his fingers, and had utterly stolen her breath. When his eyes fell on hers, they looked hungry . Cold chills swept over her skin again at the memory as she stabbed at a carrot and it shot from her plate, rolling down the table.

Papa reached for it, popping it on his own plate.

“Thank you,” she said, putting down her fork and knife.

“You are not yourself,” he said quietly, his gaze darting toward the end of the table where Oliver sat.

“My appetite has fled,” she admitted.

Papa looked at his nearly empty plate, then her full one. “It is interesting. A man cannot find the time to approach the father of the woman he has asked to marry him, but he can attend a birthday dinner for a friend.”

“You know as well as I that he did not plan on being here tonight,” she whispered. It had been the first thing she’d asked Aurelia when she arrived. “He is grieving, Papa.”

“I do not fault him.” He gave her a kind smile. “I should not have said anything, but I worry for you. It is strange; that’s all.”

Papa had seemed overjoyed when Ruth and Lady Helena had told him to expect a visit from Oliver on their return, but that quickly shifted to skepticism when the days had dragged on and Oliver never arrived. It did not help that news of their engagement had spread quickly, though no one was aware that the bride’s father had yet to provide his blessing—had yet to even be asked.

When they finished eating and the women rose to leave, Ruth caught Oliver’s gaze across the table and nearly missed her footing. His eyes were heated, devouring her from a distance. She hardly breathed as she walked back to the drawing room.

The rest of the evening was no better. Edmund, Tom, and Peter had fashioned puppets themselves and wrote a play about Ryland, featuring most of the people in the room in one way or another. The performance was humorous and intelligent. It proved to be a good distraction for a quarter of an hour before card tables were pulled out and teams were decided.

Eliza and Jacob had taken Peter home as the games were dealt, due to her exhaustion. Ruth remained on the sofa the rest of the evening, hardly participating in the conversations taking place around her. Her eyes tracked Oliver for the rest of the evening, growing more agitated the longer he kept his distance. It was reminiscent of the night at the house party when he had avoided her, making her hands shake in concern and frustration. She knew him to be keeping something from her, and while this was not the place for a conversation of any depth, it was hurtful and surprising he did not seek her out at all .

As the evening wore on, he had seemed to loosen around the other guests, but still he had not approached her. She ought not to find it offensive, as he was grieving. But Ruth wanted to be the person he ran to, not the one he kept away from. She should be a support, not a source of distress.

When Lady Helena approached to tell her she had sent for their carriage, Ruth wanted to be anywhere but in that room. She was selfishly bothered. He had lost his father , for heaven’s sake.

“Tom has been fairly well-behaved, but I think poor Tilly has minded him enough for one evening,” Lady Helena said. “We really ought to be on our way home shortly.”

“I am ready,” Ruth said, and she could feel the weight of her stepmother’s gaze.

“I need to hug my son first.” Lady Helena glanced at Ryland. “You have time if you’d like to speak to Oliver before we leave.”

Had it been so obvious that she wanted to be near him? They were not acting as a recently engaged couple ought to. That much was plain.

Ruth rose from the sofa, smoothing down her skirt, her pulse jittering wildly. She passed Samuel speaking to Ryland and found Oliver alone near the window. She did not analyze the fact that he would have rather stood alone than approach her, and pasted a smile on her face.

“Ruth,” Oliver said, turning toward her.

“How are you?” she asked, skipping the niceties. “Or should I not ask you that? Perhaps you’ve been overrun with the question all evening and would like to speak of anything else.”

His green eyes were steady. “You can ask me anything you would like.”

Anything? A list of questions blew through her thoughts. Do you care about me? Why have you not come to see my father? Is your grief going to change our arrangement ?

She swallowed, her throat going dry. “I only want to know if there is anything I can do for you.”

His mouth quirked up on one side, but the smile felt sad. “We have the solicitor coming in two days. After that, we will better know the state of things, and my aunt and uncles can return to their own houses.”

“You’ve had company all this time?”

He shot her a dry look. “I believe they think they are helping.”

Which meant, in reality, they were doing the opposite. “Would you like to meet for a ride in the morning?” she asked, her heart racing.

His eyes cut to hers. “Will we remain on our horses?” he asked, making her draw in a quick breath.

Had he truly brought that up now ? “Yes.” She straightened. Her eyebrows lifted in challenge, but her heart raced.

The smile on his mouth only widened, his voice lowering. “What would I have to do to entice you off the horse?”

“Speak to my father. He has not been terribly fond of hearing me accept congratulations when he has yet to bestow his blessing on our supposed union.”

Oliver nodded, his smile faltering.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“No. Why would you think so?”

She held his gaze. “You have been ignoring me.”

The heat from earlier flashed in his eyes again. He gave the smallest shake of his head. “I must keep my distance from you, Ruth. If I am near you, I need to touch you.”

Her breath caught. While his words excited her, they felt fevered, emboldened by the trauma he had been facing at home. He was certainly not himself. As much as it pained her to say so, she felt it important he knew he was released from obligation. “ If this is too much for you, we can end things now, Oliver. You need only say so.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “That is not what I want.”

Her heart raced. Could that mean he wanted more ? That he wanted her?

“It is not what’s best for you,” he continued. “I will come to Willowbrook in the morning and speak to your father. If you are still amenable to the idea, we can ride afterward.”

She gave a nod, tamping down her disappointment. She hoped her body had not sagged as deeply as her spirits. “Still amenable? Surely you know me well enough to know I will never refuse a ride.”

His expression was tight, his eyes bleak. “You might this time.”

Ruth stared at him, trying to interpret his meaning, when Lady Helena approached to inform her that the carriage was waiting. They left his side, but his haunted expression did not vacate Ruth’s mind for the rest of the night.

Ruth paced in her father’s study the following morning, the act made more difficult by the extra length of her riding habit. She reached the window, yanked her skirt behind her, then turned and paced back, letting the hem drag on the carpet.

Papa ran a hand over his face, exasperated. “You cannot remain here when he arrives, Ruth. It isn’t done.”

“I have a terrible feeling about this,” she said, not sparing her father a glance as she watched out the window, then paced to the other one. She did not have a view of the front door from here, but she could see the field that led in the direction of Boone Park, so she kept watch for Oliver’s horse carrying him toward her.

“It isn’t done,” Papa repeated.

Oliver appeared on the horizon, making her heart gallop in time with his horse’s hooves. “When have I given the least care for that?” she asked quietly. She could hardly breathe. Seeing him coming toward her and knowing he was not well, that things were in disorder in his life, only made her further her resolve to do what she could for him.

Because she loved Oliver. She loved him.

“I will give you time to speak when we are finished,” Papa said, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Very well,” she agreed, understanding this was a battle she would not win. Watching the door with trembling hands, she had no patience any longer. She needed to see him again. Their interaction at dinner the night before had left her confused and a little shaken. She was not going to feel whole again until they had spoken and things were more settled between them.

“Is this not breaking your rules, Ruth?” Papa said, amusement melting with his exasperation.

She let out a sigh of long suffering. “My rules were not always in my best interest, I think.”

“Which means you can do away with them when it suits you.”

She shot him a quelling look, but he only shook his head with a smile. It was true that her rules had ceased to matter once she had agreed to become Oliver’s wife, but that had been a result of her maturity, had it not? Love had certainly not cared a whit for her rules, and she liked to think the measure of love was greater than anything else.

When Oliver appeared, his eyes raked over her face before leaping to her father’s. She stepped up to him, inhaling his cedar and citrus scent, and pressed her hand to his forearm. She wanted to admit how she felt, to tell him she did not want their engagement to end in anything but a wedding .

Instead, she held his green eyes and swallowed down the pleas pushing at her chest. “I will wait in the corridor.”

He nodded once, turning to greet Papa. Ruth closed the door behind herself and started pacing again.

When Oliver opened the door, Ruth stopped walking. She did not have a clock in the corridor to know how much time had passed, but she was certain it had been close to an hour, maybe two. “That was long,” she said, to break the silence.

“Hardly above a quarter of an hour, Ruth.” Amusement tilted his lips up on one side, though they quickly fell again.

“It felt much longer,” she muttered. She glanced behind him, but Papa did not follow him out.

“Your father needs to speak with you.”

Ruth narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to wait?”

Oliver swallowed. “Only if you wish it.”

“I do.”

“Very well,” he said with a nod.

Ruth left him, closing the door to the study when she saw her father’s face. A fissure of unease coiled through her. “What is it?”

He grimaced. “Things are not as they seem, Ruth. A union with Oliver at this time?—”

“Do not say it,” she said quietly. “Please do not.”

Papa’s lips pressed flatly together. He sighed. “I adore the boy. It is no secret I’ve long wished for a union between the two of you.”

Long wished? No secret? “On the contrary. I was unaware.”

“Your mother knows. It was the reason I asked her to take you to the house party. I hoped a courtship would naturally come of it. Oliver is a good man, but—” Papa scrubbed a hand over his face. “Things in his life are not settled. It is my duty as your father to ensure you are safely and securely matched. Currently, nothing about Oliver’s situation is safe or secure.”

“And love?” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Does that have nothing to do with it?”

Papa’s expression softened. “Of course it does. But I cannot discount the other things I learned today.”

Ruth was tired of all the secrets, and she hated being told what she could or could not have. She made the rules that governed her life. No one else had the authority to dictate her feelings or thoughts or who she would or would not marry.

“He is grieving,” Papa said. “Remember that, Ruth.”

“I have not been allowed to forget it,” she said. “If that is all, I would like to speak to Oliver. Have you provided your blessing or not?”

“We are meeting again after the solicitor comes to read the will tomorrow.”

“That is not an answer. Have you or have you not provided your blessing, Papa?”

“I cannot. Not yet. Once the will is read and we know the full truth of things, we will discuss it again.”

She scoffed. “You mean to have me believe you will decide after you know if Oliver is made more rich than he already is?”

Papa looked exasperated. “I suggest you speak to Oliver.”

“I would like to.” She left the room in a whirl of confusion. Papa was not a greedy man. None of this made any sense. Oliver waited for her outside the study door, his green eyes dark in the shade of the corridor.

She would have her answers, one way or another.

Oliver watched her, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. “Shall we ride?”

“Not quite yet.” She took his hand and pulled him down the corridor in the opposite direction, turning the corner and coming upon their seldom used music room. It was slightly dusty, Lady Helena’s harp in the corner having sat untouched for so long, the drapes pulled mostly closed.

Ruth tugged Oliver into the room behind her and closed the door with a quiet snap. She turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Now you may talk.”