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

Chapter Three

Rule #3: When terrible news is forthcoming, treat it like an unwanted suitor: avoid at all costs

Mischief was most definitely afoot, and this time it wasn’t at Ruth’s hands. Her parents had obviously plotted a scheme, and they’d spent the duration of dinner building up the courage to broach the matter with her.

Papa took a large swallow of wine from his glass and eyed his wife, Lady Helena. Dinner that evening had been a long, quiet affair, Ruth’s parents consistently exchanging glances thick with meaning. As the courses progressed, the pregnant air around them grew heavier.

It could not be good if they were so nervous to speak of it.

In the past, when her parents had united like this, it had never boded well. The first time, they’d presented the idea of sending her away to school. She’d balked and convinced them not to continue that line of thinking. The second time, it was to inform her she would attend the Season in Town. She’d agreed and learned that, apart from dancing being somewhat enjoyable, London was too large and full of strangers to be anything but lonely.

What could they want now? To ship her to the Continent in search of a husband? Had Dr. Burnside offered for her and Papa provided his blessing? Had the entire town of Harewood come together and determined Ruth and her rules were a nuisance and she was being ousted?

Calm down, Ruth . There was no sense in being nonsensical. She almost wished her nine-year-old brother, Tom, had not been sent to bed early tonight so he could be here to help divert attention from her.

Papa cleared his throat. Ruth braced herself. “Do you recall Lord Rocklin, Ruth?”

That old viscount with missing teeth and onion breath? Oh, dear. It was worse than she had thought. Her fork hovered above her plate, ready to spear a potato and put it in her mouth should she not wish to speak. Lord Rocklin was old enough to be her father, for heaven’s sake. Surely Papa did not deem him a suitable husband? Ruth knew he was a widower, but he had daughters just younger than her.

His title couldn’t possibly have blinded her parents to his unsuitable age.

“Perhaps this is not the best time,” Lady Helena hedged. She always seemed to know exactly how Ruth was feeling and could likely sense her growing panic. With good reason.

Papa’s mouth tightened. “What better time would there be?”

A line formed between Lady Helena’s eyebrows.

Puffing up his shoulders, Papa squared Ruth with a look. “Lord Rocklin is hosting a house party in a fortnight, and I’ve written to accept the invitation on your behalf.”

“A house party,” Ruth replied. “With young gentlemen?”

“Of course,” Papa said, his bristly eyebrows dancing in confusion .

Ruth let out a puff of relief and took a large gulp of wine. At least Papa hadn’t imagined her desperate enough to marry the viscount. The implications of the house party swooped in, and her relief was short-lived. “Is there any particular reason you accepted before speaking to me?”

“Yes,” Papa said, stabbing a potato and eating it. He dabbed his forehead with his napkin. “I’d put off the reply too many days as it was.”

“My dear friend will be there, as well, with her husband,” Lady Helena said. “You remember Mrs. Watson?”

Ruth nodded. Though the acquaintance was slight, she recalled that the woman had been friends with Lady Helena when they were fresh on the marriage mart.

“I am looking forward to spending some time with her. We thought a house party might be an enjoyable way for you to pass a few weeks,” Lady Helena continued.

“And possibly find a husband?” Ruth added, lifting an eyebrow and holding her stepmother’s gaze.

Lady Helena put down her fork and knife. “While we are eager for situations in which you can meet gentlemen, there is no expectation of marriage until you are ready. Your father and I would like for you to have a love match. How could we wish for anything less?” She looked at Papa, and his answering smile was warm. They had both been blessed twice over to be married for love, finding one another after losing their spouses. Papa made no secret of how dearly he had loved his first wife, Ruth’s mother, and Lady Helena made no secret of how she had loved her first husband. Ruth’s older stepbrother had found love after losing his first wife as well. With these examples surrounding Ruth, how could she expect anything less for herself?

“We will never force you to marry,” Papa said. “You must know that.”

Indeed, but it was difficult to imagine otherwise when he was constantly parading eligible gentlemen around her. “Of course, Papa,” she said.

“Good. Glad we’ve settled things.”

Ruth finished eating in silence. When they went to the drawing room together after dinner, Papa paused in the doorway. “Oliver came to speak to me a few days ago.”

Ruth’s steps faltered. “Oh?”

He studied her as though watching for a reaction. Had Papa seen her with Oliver the other day when she had been hiding in the tree? Of course, it hadn’t meant anything when he had taken her by the waist to help her down. To any outsider looking on, the situation likely seemed far more romantic than it was in actuality.

“He plans to attend the house party as well,” Papa said.

“Does he?” Ruth did her best to sound pleasantly surprised, but her heart raced. The way Oliver had helped her down from the branch had seared itself into her brain, coming about in her thoughts more often than it ought. “He hasn’t left his estate much since his grandmother died.”

“That was nearly a year ago.”

“Nine months, I believe,” Lady Helena said. “The poor man could use a distraction after everything he’s faced this year.”

“Indeed, and now he is looking for a wife.” Papa patted Ruth’s shoulder. “Do what you can to help him, Ruth.”

“Help him?” She reached the sofa and lowered herself on the edge of the cushion. “What could I possibly do?”

Papa shrugged, his chin jutting out in thought. “You are friends. You will have conversations with the ladies when the men are not present. Surely you can help him find a woman of good character.”

“Will Samuel be there, as well?” Ruth asked.

Papa frowned. “It wasn’t mentioned. But Mama will be with you?—”

“Only Mama?” Ruth looked between her parents .

Lady Helena’s gaze didn’t falter. “Your father needs to remain here with his horse.”

Papa shot her a flat-lipped look. “You say that as though I’ve chosen a horse over my daughter.”

Lady Helena’s lifted eyebrows spoke for themselves.

“Ruth understands,” Papa said, leaning back in his seat and pulling out his pipe.

Ruth was growing weary of the conversation. She stood. Sometimes she didn’t want to be Understanding Ruth. Sometimes she wished Papa would ask what she wanted instead of shoving her toward prospective husbands at every turn. “I think I’ll retire early.”

She kissed them each on the cheek before leaving the room. As she walked away, she heard her father’s voice quietly follow her into the corridor. “You worried for nothing, Helena. She is perfectly amenable to the idea.”

“Things might not turn out the way you hope,” Lady Helena said ominously. “You cannot force these things.”

Ruth readied for bed with the distinct feeling that she had not been provided with the entire truth of the situation.

At the end of the sermon on Sunday, Ruth looked through the gathered congregation until her gaze landed on her dearest friend, Eliza Ridley—once Eliza Rose, before she’d married her husband Jacob. She was a cousin of Oliver and Samuel’s. Ruth found her standing near the back of the chapel beside her mountainous husband. Her eyes caught Eliza’s, and they moved in unison.

By the time they reached each other, they had followed the crowd outside onto the lawn, the midday sun shining warmly on them. Eliza waddled, her hand resting over her rounded belly. She glowed, her smile radiant. “You are going to a house party next week, I hear.”

Gossip made quick work in Harewood. “Have you been talking to Oliver?”

Eliza’s brows lifted. “Yes.”

“Did he mention Samuel?” Ruth asked.

“Only that he was invited but does not plan to attend.”

Ruth clutched her friend’s sleeve. “That is a relief.”

Eliza’s smile flattened, her lips pressing together. “You know, you could tell Samuel exactly how you feel. He would understand.”

“I have, Lizzie. Many times.”

Eliza’s mouth remained flat. “Using your rules is nothing more than putting him off. ‘You will not dance with a blond man’? That is obvious, but it is not straightforward honesty.”

Eliza was calling her a coward. It stung, but Ruth had no rebuttal. It was the truth.

“We need not speak of that anymore.” Eliza inhaled, rubbing the top of her belly. “This babe knows precisely where to kick to make me lose my breath.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. But I’ve been overtaken with the strongest urge to embroider everything with blue blossoms, so I hope this child will like flowers.”

“I am certain the baby will not care what is embroidered on her hem. Or his hem.”

“That’s true.” Eliza grinned, then her smile faded. “You know, if we convince him to attend the house party, it could give you an opportunity to prove that you won’t make a good match.”

“Convince whom, Eliza?”

“Samuel. If you did away with your rules for the house party, you could show him how a match between you would not be ideal. Let him decide for himself you wouldn’t suit. ”

Do away with her rules? “Would that not provide him with false hope?”

Eliza was quiet. “Maybe. Or it will force you to acknowledge that Samuel is a reasonable man and you have unjustly discounted him too early.”

A rebuttal was fresh on Ruth’s lips, but she stopped herself from answering. Could Eliza be correct? Perhaps, if given the opportunity, Samuel would see for himself that they would not make a good match. He would cease trying to court her, and she wouldn’t need to have so many blasted rules to keep him at a distance.

But those rules also protected her. “Doing away with my rules is not the best way to go about this.”

“Ruth—”

“Truly. I need them. But…”

Her mind whirled with possibilities. Ruth didn’t know how to drive him away while keeping him as a friend, but if he found a wife of his own—if she helped him to find a good match—then he would never try to court her again. Both of Lord Rocklin’s daughters were young and pretty, and surely they would not be the only young women in attendance.

“You are thinking,” Eliza said. “I can tell.”

“Samuel should come to Lord Rocklin’s house party. If it is not too late, I think it is a good idea.”

Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “You will not push him away the entire time?”

She would not give up her rules, but she did not need to in order to find Samuel a spouse. “On the contrary. He would be my personal project.”

“In that case, I will tell him to remain far away. This is more frightening than enticing,” she joked. “What are you planning?”

Ruth was unable to respond as Jacob approached Eliza and put his arm around her waist. He towered over her, tall and foreboding, but his eyes were soft. Warm sunlight drifted over them, making the grass look greener and the sky bluer. Ruth asked him about the cot he had been carving for the baby, and he told her of the spindles his apprentice, Peter, had made.

“Samuel,” Eliza said, her smile brightening as she registered her cousin approaching. “Ruth was just telling me how much she is looking forward to seeing you at Lord Rocklin’s house party.”

Samuel’s gaze flicked to Ruth, confusion appropriately passing over his face. His golden hair was styled perfectly, the pomade shining in the sunlight. He was handsome, even if his green waistcoat was too bright for church and his watch carried too many tinkling fobs.

“Was she?” he asked, his skepticism evident.

Oliver stood behind Samuel, looking at Ruth. Now was when she should have responded, but she couldn’t find the words. His green eyes trailed over her suspiciously before he smiled at his cousin. “You seem tired, Lizzie,” he said.

“We should go home,” Jacob said, seeming to agree.

“But we’ve only just begun talking?—”

“They will be here again next Sunday,” Jacob argued. “And I am certain you and Ruth will make a point of seeing each other before that.”

Eliza conceded the point. “I suppose that is true. Have a lovely Sunday, everyone.” Once they started walking away, Samuel turned his full attention on Ruth.

Oh, dear. Had she made a mistake in assuming she could route Samuel’s attention to another young lady? It was too late to retract her plan now that it was in motion. Besides, if it worked, she would be able to do away with the bulk of her rules. They were, in part, designed to keep him from asking to court her.

Goodness, was she truly going to do this? The way his blue eyes trailed her now, she felt like she had just offered to make an entire dinner when she hadn’t the first notion how to even heat the stove.

Helping Samuel find a bride would be far easier than roasting a turkey, would it not?

“I must be honest,” Samuel said, “I haven’t felt too interested in the Rocklin party until now.”

“Should I be offended?” Ruth said playfully. “You must have known I would be there.”

“Now I’m not sure wild horses could keep him away,” Oliver muttered.

Samuel grinned unrepentantly. “Indeed. You can find someone else to watch your cellars, can you not, Cousin?”

Oliver gave him a flat look. “I think they will be in better hands with my housekeeper, anyway.”

“It’s decided then.” Samuel looked from Ruth to Oliver. “We are going to have a lovely time together, I think.”

Ruth wished she could say the same. She held Oliver’s gaze for the briefest moment, somehow feeling like she had made a grave error in judgment.