Page 5 of The Rules of Courtship (Hearts of Harewood #3)

Chapter Five

Rule #5: When offered a drink, accept the conversation attached to the offer. The drink is optional

Sitting across from Ruth for the duration of dinner was nothing short of torturous. She smiled and laughed and spoke with her partner throughout the meal without pause. Oliver was so caught up in watching this mysterious gentleman charm Ruth, he found himself steadily ignoring Miss Temple, much to his chagrin. She deserved better than an absentee partner. Even if Oliver was only completing the task Wycliffe had given him—to watch over Ruth.

Clearly that was the reason for his utter distraction.

A perfectly browned game hen was placed on his plate, snapping him away from staring. Ruth’s jovial laugh cut through him, her eyes shining brightly and teeth on full display. Oliver put his attention squarely on his seatmate. “Tell me about yourself, Miss Temple.”

She was pretty. Her golden hair gleamed from the candles lining the chandelier above the table. Her cheeks rounded with a smile. “I am afraid there isn’t much to tell.”

“You do not have a ready list of accomplishments to present?”

Surprise flashed in her eyes before her smile was restored. “I suppose if that is what you would like to know, I could satisfy your curiosity.”

Oliver had said the wrong thing. Ruth would have laughed, coming up with an outlandish list of accomplishments or turning it into a game. But, with Miss Temple, he had only managed to sound annoyed. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he delivered a rueful smile. “You seem like the sort of young lady who has all sorts of talents, Miss Temple. I meant no offense by it.”

Her demeanor softened. “Thank you, Mr. Rose.” She looked at the small, plump game hen on her plate before laying her attention on him again. “I am passionate about music—playing the pianoforte, the harp, and I sing. When my sister can persuade me, I join her for a ride, but she is more eager to spend time in the sun than I am.”

Faint disappointment settled in Oliver’s stomach. When young women were fascinated with horses, he found himself able to speak at length with them. His fodder for conversation never ran out. But music? He didn’t know the first thing about it. “What do you enjoy playing the most? You will need to explain everything, because I am quite the novice when it comes to music in any form. I enjoy listening to it when it’s well executed, but I’m afraid I could never identify what makes it a success.”

“Your ears are tuned to enjoy proper sound,” she said easily, settling into her chair. “You needn’t be a proficient to note when something is good.”

“That explains it.” He smiled genially, cutting into his hen. “Do you have a favorite instrument to play? ”

“The harp. It can be very angelic.”

He imagined Miss Temple looked angelic when playing it as well, with her golden hair and sweet countenance. A white dress would complete the image nicely.

Oliver’s thoughts quickly flashed to the play he had put on with Ryland, Samuel, Ruth, and Eliza when they were hardly more than children. The girls had been angels, sewing wings to the back of two dresses and receiving a tongue-lashing from Ruth’s governess for it. It had taken them weeks to find enough feathers to make the wings. He had thought Ruth was bold and brave. Not only had she somehow convinced her governess to allow them to finish the costumes, but Ruth had also managed to get her to agree to be the first audience for their finished production.

Blast . His attention had wandered again. He cut a bite of meat before speaking. “I hope we will have the pleasure of hearing you play this week.”

“My sister hopes to put together a musicale if we can find enough willing participants. Do you play or sing?”

“No, neither. You should prefer to keep me in your audience.” He put down his knife and fork and lifted his goblet, taking a long swallow. Ruth laughed again, and it took every ounce of control he possessed to keep his smile trained on Miss Temple. “I used to turn pages for Miss Wycliffe on occasion, so I can offer those services if they are required.”

“Can you read music?”

“Not even a note.”

Miss Temple looked confused, a small line forming between her eyebrows. “How do you know when to turn the pages?”

“Ruth tells me,” he said, with a rueful smile. “There are some songs where I have helped her so many times I know them by ear.”

Miss Temple blinked, her knife and fork hovering above her plate. “How fortunate she is to have such a dedicated friend. ”

A dedicated friend? He cleared his throat. “Someone needed to assist her, and her brother was far more interested in his wife and his son.” Oliver realized his mistake in speaking so openly about the closeness he shared with Ruth. Would Miss Temple misunderstand him? Believe he meant to convey that something existed between them?

“What do you enjoy doing with your time if it is not in pursuit of music?” she asked, thankfully changing the conversation.

“Horses,” he said. “Or improving my land. I’m afraid I have been consumed with learning proper irrigation techniques and planting cycles in recent months. I dream about crop rotations now.” He had done so out of necessity, to save the property and estate from the bank, but she needn’t know that.

“Goodness, that sounds terrifying,” she said with a laugh.

Oliver smiled in return. He glanced up—out of habit, no doubt—to find Ruth watching them curiously. She held his eyes for a moment before returning her attention to the darkly mysterious man beside her.

Oliver focused again on his dinner, though his appetite had fled. They spent the remaining time discussing their varying pursuits. He told her of his horse, and she explained that her father was similarly inclined, with an unhealthy love for the creatures.

“The stables are at your disposal for the duration of your visit,” Miss Temple said.

His heart made a sudden leap. “Surely your father needs to approve.”

“He will,” she said with quiet confidence.

Something about Miss Temple was pleasing, and it went beyond her natural good looks. He couldn’t identify exactly what it was, but he found himself comfortably sinking into the conversation. The remainder of dinner passed far more swiftly, and before he knew it, Oliver was watching the women walk away while the men remained behind for cigars and port. He moved to the end of the table where Samuel sat speaking with Lord Rocklin and Mr. Kellinger, another older gentleman Oliver was vaguely familiar with, then accepted a small glass of ruby wine.

“You wouldn’t believe the speed of her,” Lord Rocklin said. “She is unmatched in all of my stables.”

“Do you race her?” Samuel asked.

“Not yet.”

“I think we need a demonstration,” Mr. Kellinger said, tipping back his glass and draining the wine in one swallow. He pushed his graying hair from his face, clearly hoping to achieve the Brutus look that was growing with popularity. He and Samuel were vying for most dandyish in attendance, which meant they would either get along splendidly or butt heads like two goats. Hopefully, the discrepancy in age would mean the former. Mr. Kellinger was at least a decade older than Sam.

“We can set one for tomorrow morning if Mr. Bailey will agree to ride.”

The man in question looked up from his glass, his dark eyes sweeping over their host. What were his qualifications? To be singled out in this manner proved Mr. Bailey was the most talented rider in the house—according to Lord Rocklin, at least. “What is it I’m agreeing to ride?” he asked from midway down the table.

“Lightning,” Lord Rocklin said. “She’s spirited, but fast.”

“My favorite kind,” Mr. Bailey said with a smirk.

Something about his delivery rubbed Oliver wrongly, but he couldn’t pin a reason to why he felt that way.

“Why do you look like you’ve smelled the bottom of my shoes?” Samuel asked quietly.

Oliver tried to keep his face neutral. “Why do the bottom of your shoes smell noteworthy?”

Samuel shrugged. “We’ve been talking of horses.” For a fop, he was less concerned about his appearance than he led people to believe. “You cannot change the subject so easily, Oliver. What is bothering you?”

“Nothing.” It was the truth, too. He wasn’t bothered watching Ruth with Mr. Bailey. He had been…jealous? Was that it? “I am eager to return to the drawing room. You know how little I regard these men-only port sessions.”

“Not the best drink, I agree.” Samuel lifted his glass and swirled the wine, looking at it with a furrowed brow. His expression cleared, and he set the cup down again. “Or is it a certain woman you’d like to return to?”

Yes, indeed, he wanted to speak to Ruth. Was he so obvious? His heart thudded. Was this the moment they discussed having feelings for the same woman?

“Blonde,” Samuel continued, scrunching his face as though deep in thought. “Blue, round eyes, utterly besotted with you.”

Blonde? Oliver straightened. Samuel was referring to Miss Temple. “She was not besotted . What a ridiculous thing to say.”

Samuel merely raised his eyebrows.

“She was not,” Oliver repeated. “We only spent one hour together, and half of that time was silent.”

“Mark me,” Samuel said. “You will leave this house party an engaged man.”

The woman that flashed in his mind was Ruth, but he quickly removed her smiling eyes from his thoughts. His impulse was to argue with his cousin, but he did need a wife, didn’t he? He had come here for that very purpose. If he did not gain three thousand pounds, he would lose everything. Marrying well was the easiest way to accomplish that goal.

“It would not be such a terrible thing if you’re correct,” Oliver finally said.

Samuel looked surprised, but covered it quickly.

“And you?” Oliver pressed. “Your Miss Jane seemed perfectly lovely. ”

“She is no Ruth,” Samuel muttered.

“Sam—”

“No, I know. You need not say it.” He lifted his glass and drained the rest of it. “Ruth will not court a man from Harewood. It is no secret her rule was developed and highly advertised to keep me away. I am not the fool you think I am.”

Oliver regarded him, looking for a crack in the careless facade. “She could be made to see reason. Her rules are ridiculous.”

“They are a tool. She’s a smart woman for wielding them as she does.”

“Perhaps.” Oliver didn’t agree, but he wouldn’t split hairs.

The gentlemen rose to return to the drawing room. Oliver noticed Miss Temple as soon as he stepped through the threshold, her eyes lighting up and her smile widening. She sat at a table playing cards with her sister, though he assumed it was set up so they could invite a second pair to join them.

Ruth, it appeared, wasn’t present.

“I think I will make it an early night,” he muttered to Samuel. “I’d like to wake before dawn and ride before the gentlemen all gather to see the demonstration with Lord Rocklin’s horse.”

“Very well.”

“Will you remain?” Oliver asked, a little surprised.

Samuel glanced back at the Temple twins sitting at the card table. “One of us must stay if we aren’t to look dashed unfriendly.” He softened this with a grin.

“Will you ride with me in the morning?”

Samuel lifted one eyebrow. “If I can be bothered to wake as early as you plan to, I won’t be riding anything. I will be eating.”

“Very well. I will see you tomorrow.” Oliver turned at the door, leaving before he could be waylaid.

He mounted the dim stairs toward the guest chambers. Oliver hoped he didn’t appear standoffish or uninterested in socializing due to his early night, but he believed Samuel would explain things well enough on his behalf. He stopped short when he turned the corner toward his room. Ruth stepped out of the way quickly to avoid a collision, and he steadied her by the shoulders, keeping her from tripping over him and falling to the carpet.

“Were you lying in wait to frighten me?” he asked.

“Of course.” She straightened her skirt and inhaled. “I planned to stay here all evening until an unsuspecting gentleman arrived.” She stepped back, allowing Oliver’s arms to drop to his sides. He hadn’t realized he’d still been holding her. She gave a little shake of her head. “I was a bit lost. I think my chamber is that direction.” She pointed toward the opposite corridor.

“Most likely. The men are down this way,” he confirmed.

“I was in such a hurry to make it to the drawing room before dinner. I didn’t pay much attention to where I was going.”

“Do you need help finding?—”

“No, I have it now. Fortunately, no one was in the chamber I tried to enter. But the man’s dressing gown laid out on the bed gave away my error.”

Oliver gave a startled laugh. “What if the man had been in the room?”

“Then I would be watching Sarah pack my trunk this very moment.”

He smiled down at her. “It is early for you to retire. Are you feeling unwell?”

“The excuse I gave was to check on my mother. She had a difficult ride with the storm and the awful road. But an early night will help me rise early.”

“I had the same idea.”

“Mrs. Hull told me the stables are at our disposal. Do you…that is, if you have other plans in the morning, I understand.”

“Do I what , Ruth?” he asked, forcing her to speak the invitation. She had stopped herself, which was altogether unnatural. Where was their easy conversation? It had taken more effort than usual as of late. Besides, what if he told her he would like to ride with her, and all she wanted to know was if he could direct her toward the stables? She was still learning her way around, after all.

“Do you want to ride with me tomorrow?” she asked, though hesitantly. “I was hoping to catch the sunrise if I could manage it. Mr. Bailey told me of a spectacular eastward-facing hill.”

Something dark and green coiled in Oliver’s stomach. He tried to make his voice sound light. “Will Mr. Bailey be joining you as well?”

“He did not mention it,” she said, unaware of the turmoil in Oliver’s body. “But we spoke of it tonight during dinner, so it would not be unreasonable if he happened to ride at the same time.”

That was a careful way of saying that she did expect him.

Yet, she also wanted Oliver there.

“I do not wish to come in the way of anything,” he said.

Ruth lifted her eyebrows. “We have not even been here for an entire day. There is nothing to come in the way of.”

She had not seen the way Mr. Bailey had been watching her. Again, a feeling of unease swept Oliver’s body. “You are being cautious, I hope.”

“In what way?”

She wouldn’t like to know that her father asked Oliver to keep an eye on her. That piece of information was better left tucked away where no one would hear of it. “Strangers,” he finally said. “We do not know these people very well. I worry for you.”

Ruth shook her head, her smile growing. “Don’t be ridiculous. We are perfectly safe here. There are no true strangers, not really. They all have earned the approval of Lord Rocklin at the very least.”

“I suppose so. If the viscount was not willing to have any of these men for a son-in-law, he would not have invited them.”

“Indeed.” She smoothed her hands down her gown, watching him. A soft smile curved over her lips. She really was the most beautiful creature. “Now, I really must see to my mother.”

“Ruth,” he said, unable to leave things so unresolved. His voice was hoarse, so he cleared his throat. “If you have need of…anything…for the next fortnight, I am here.”

She regarded him thoughtfully before giving a nod and turning away. “I will see you in the morning.”

Oliver took that promise to sleep and didn’t think of anything else for the rest of the night.