True of Heart (Regency Shakespeare Book 3)

by Martha Keyes

  She tilted her head to the side wonderingly. “Did he really?”

  He looked down and nodded, then, remembering that he was supposed to be meeting Miss Devenish’s gaze squarely, brought his head up and looked her in the eye.

  Her smile wavered. “What? What is it?”

  “What? Nothing.”

  “Oh,” she said, blinking. “I thought you meant me to understand something by the way you looked at me just now.”

  He shook his head quickly, heating rising in his neck. “No, no.” He laughed uncomfortably and looked to Ruth, who was still conversing with Miss Parkham. He searched his mind for what Ruth had told him the night before and on their walk to the church. He was to listen carefully—but Miss Devenish wasn’t saying anything to listen to right now—and he was to ask questions.

  But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were again roving over the crowds in the church.

  “Are you looking for someone?” That was a question, wasn’t it?

  “Oh, no.” She returned her eyes to him, smiling again. “Merely ensuring my mother knew my whereabouts.”

  Silence reined again, and Philip caught Ruth’s eye with a significant look. Ruth nodded, and the four of them parted company, just in time for Miss Devenish to be approached by Mr. Munroe. Munroe’s eyes seemed to linger on Ruth as he spoke with Miss Devenish.

  Philip breathed his relief at no longer being obliged to come up with questions or conversation. A slight wave drew his attention. “Ah, here are my sister and nieces. Mr. Gibson would have done better to direct his sermon at her.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ruth watched with an increase of nerves as a woman, flanked by her two daughters, approached them. The woman held herself with the same natural confidence as her brother and was regarding Ruth with an evaluative eye, and Ruth could only imagine what her impressions might be. Would a woman be more likely to recognize her real identity?

  She straightened and tried to hold herself in a more masculine way.

  “Uncle Phil!” cried out one of the girls, rushing over to him and wrapping her arms around his knees. Ruth was reminded of Joanna, and she felt a little pang at the vague likeness.

  “Mary,” said Oxley’s sister in a severe whisper, pulling the child’s arm. “You mustn’t run in the church. Nor assault your uncle when you see him.”

  Oxley bent down. “Your mother is right, of course. We shouldn’t run in the church. Mr. Gibson is very strict, you know. But if we went outside…” He wagged his brows.

  The girls both grinned and nodded, and Ruth thought it might be in Oxley’s best interest if Miss Devenish could see him interacting with his nieces—and in Ruth’s best interest if she was never allowed to witness it again.

  “Ah, how thoughtless of me,” Oxley said, rising to a stand. “Alice, allow me to introduce you to my friend, Mr. Henry Ruth. Ruth, this is my sister, Lady Alice Tipton.”

  Ruth bowed to Lady Tipton.

  “And these”—Oxley tweaked a curl on both of his niece’s heads—“are the most beautiful women in all of London, Miss Tipton and Miss Mary Tipton.”

  “You state the obvious, Oxley.” Ruth bowed even more deeply, smiling conspiratorially at the little girls.

  “Were you just speaking with Miss Devenish, Philip?” Lady Tipton said, glancing in that woman’s direction.

  “Yes,” he said. “Only for a moment, though.”

  “And you let Mr. Munroe steal her out from under you?” Lady Tipton made a tsk sound. “He is hardly fit competition for you, but one cannot blame him for trying. She is such a taking thing.” She tilted her head to the side as she regarded Miss Devenish. “Perhaps you could do with a bit of help. I could—”

  “Thank you, Alice,” Oxley said, with a speaking glance at Ruth, “but that won’t be necessary. Come, girls. Let us go outside for some fresh air.” He took his nieces by the hand and looked down at them with a smile that ached somewhere in Ruth’s chest.

  Lady Tipton walked close behind her brother, and Ruth hesitated before following along, unsure whether she should walk beside Lady Tipton or behind her.

  “Did I understand correctly from Draper that you let Mrs. Hines go?” Lady Tipton asked of Oxley as they emerged into the sunlit outdoors.

  “Yes,” he said over his shoulder.

  “But I thought she wasn’t meant to retire for another few years at least.”

  “She wasn’t. But her mother took ill, and she was needed at home.”

  “Poor thing. But might you not have simply given her a leave of absence? For now you must pay her a pension and hire a new housekeeper besides.”

  Oxley sent her a look of annoyed incredulity. “After over thirty years with our family, I think she has more than earned it.”

  “Perhaps you are right. Besides, what Oxley Court needs is a real mistress.” She raised her brows significantly as Miss Devenish walked by.

  Ruth managed a forced chuckle. She had never seen Oxley Court, but the name itself conveyed grandeur, and Miss Devenish certainly looked like the type of woman meant to be mistress of a grand place.

  “Girls, it is time to go,” Lady Tipton said suddenly.

  Cries of injustice were raised, but Lady Tipton insisted. “You may play with Uncle Philip another day. Come now.”

  Ruth felt bemused by the sudden demand and looked to Philip, whose expression was one of resigned disappointment.

  Lady Tipton took her daughters by the hand and, as an older matron approached, inclined her head stiffly. “Good day, Aunt Dorothea.”

  The matron greeted her and stopped the girls to give them each a little piece of sugar candy, eliciting a tight-lipped expression from Lady Tipton, who pulled insistently on her girls’ hands and led them out of the churchyard.

  “She hates when you do that,” Philip said.

  His Aunt Dorothea smiled fondly as she watched the girls leave. “I know. She hates everything I do, though.”

  Philip chuckled. “I think she merely resents how you treat her husband.”

  She gave an unconcerned shrug. “She should have married Mr. Vickers. Better a man in humble circumstances than an unbearable one like Sir Jon. Now, who is this?” She was looking at Ruth.

  Oxley turned toward Ruth. “This is my friend, Mr. Henry Ruth. Ruth, this is my aunt, Mrs. Dorothea Barham.”

  Ruth executed a bow and smiled at the intriguing woman before her, dressed in a blue pelisse as colorful as the magenta dress below it. The lines on her face gave her a good-humored look even when she was not smiling.

  Mrs. Barham surveyed Ruth with an evaluative but not unkind eye.

  When they bade her goodbye a few minutes later, Philip watched her go with a fond gaze much like Mrs. Barham had worn as she watched her great nieces leave.

  “She likes you,” he said. “No doubt it was the glasses. She loves anything that flouts expectation.”

  “Or,” Ruth said, “perhaps it was my undeniable charm.”

  Philip looked at Ruth for a moment then shook his head. “It must have been the glasses.” He elbowed Ruth playfully, and she nudged him right back harder.

  “Tell me, then,” Ruth said as they made the journey on foot back to Brook Street. “How did your very brief conversation with Miss Devenish go?”

  Oxley sighed. “It was going well for the first twenty seconds, I thought. But then I fear I frightened her while trying to heed your advice to look her in the eye while speaking with her.”

  Ruth laughed. “Perhaps I am doing more harm than good with my counsel.”

  “No, no. I asked her a question and even managed to make her laugh with my response before bungling it.”

  Ruth clapped her hands. “Bravo! You have leapt ahead to a new lesson entirely, then. We haven’t yet touched on humor, but in truth, I hardly think you stand in need of the lesson.”

  “You consider me amusing, then?”

  “Well, you certainly make me laugh.” Ruth took the opportunity to look in the opposite direction in order t
o hide the warmth in her cheeks.

  “Perhaps your standards are too low,” Oxley said.

  “I imagine that would be apparent to anyone who saw me in your company,” Ruth said, unable to avoid glancing at him to see how he took the teasing.

  He was smiling widely, and Ruth looked away hurriedly. Many more of these moments with Oxley, and she would be in serious trouble.

  They came upon Oxley’s house, and he stopped. “When do we next meet?”

  “I am at your disposal,” Ruth said, wishing it wasn’t so very true.

  “You may as well come dine with me tonight, then. And what of your colleague? Was he not going to join us at church today?”

  Ruth chuckled. “Yes, he was. But when the time came to leave, he was still abed, and I hadn’t the energy to force two prodigals to church. I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t yet awake.”

  “Well, he is welcome to come to dinner tonight as well.”

  “Oh,” Ruth said with a slightly nervous laugh. “You needn’t worry about him. He will be little enough help. He handles more of the business side of the Swan.”

  Oxley gave her a funny look. “Did you not offer his services in place of yours at one time?”

  Ruth opened her mouth then showed a smile full of clenched teeth. “I did. But surely you cannot blame me.”

  “Why? Because of how awful I was to you when we first met?”

  Ruth laughed, thinking what things would be like if he had accepted such an arrangement—or if he hadn’t come after her when she tried to leave.

  “Well,” Oxley said, “we needn’t discuss business tonight. We can leave that for tomorrow instead.”

  Ruth sucked in a breath and nodded. She wasn’t sure she wished to share Oxley with Topher—or to risk Topher’s saying something that might undo them.

  When she arrived back at Upper Brook Street a few minutes later, Topher was partaking of breakfast in his room.

  “Ah, there you are.” He scooped a forkful of egg into his mouth. “Looking very dapper in that waistcoat, aren’t you?”

  Ruth sat down on the edge of his bed, letting her foot swing as it hovered above the floor. “You missed church.”

  “I did. Had a late night.”

  “Have you had anything but late nights since we arrived in Town?”

  He grinned and took a sip of coffee.

  “Where were you this time?”

  He set the coffee cup down and wagged his eyebrows. “Getting us more business.”

  Ruth stilled. “More business? What do you mean?”

  “Mark Kirkhouse.” Her brother stabbed the last bit of egg with a fork, ate it, and gulped down another swig of coffee.

  “You are joking,” she said.

  He shot her a funny look. “Why should I be? You are meeting with him tomorrow at his lodgings for dinner.”

  “Christopher Brandon Hawthorn! What in heaven’s name were you thinking?” She stood up and shook her head vehemently. “No. No, no, and no. Absolutely not.”

  He reared back. “What do you mean absolutely not? He is expecting you—relying on you, even. The man is besotted, Ruth, and he just needs a bit of advice from someone to inspire him with confidence. He’s willing to pay five pounds for it. Easiest thing in the world for you.”

  She folded her arms and shook her head again. “I cannot do it, no matter how easy. We came here to help Lord Oxley, not to take on more clients.”

  “We came here to make money, Ruth. That is why we’re here. Gad, why are you so upset when I’ve found another opportunity for us?”

  Her chest rose and fell quickly, and she took to pacing the floor. “Don’t you see, Topher? Every person I am forced to spend time with increases the likelihood of my being discovered. And if I am discovered, rest assured we shan’t have any of the money we are expecting. Besides, I assured Lord Oxley of our discretion. How can I possibly maintain that if word gets around about the Swan, as it inevitably will if I take on more clients?”

  Topher’s hands were up, inviting her to calm down. “Very well, very well. I see what you mean. I hadn’t thought it through carefully, and I am sorry. But I assure you, Kirkhouse is no gabster, and I can’t very well tell him ‘never mind’ now. I shan’t seek out any more clients, but surely you can help just the one man? He is a friend, Ruth. And from what he has said, this girl he’s fallen in love with is near to being forced into a marriage with some slimy fellow that’s more than twice her age.”

  Ruth clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She was overreacting. The thought of disappointing Oxley terrified her. Whether it was because it meant risking the two hundred pounds or because she had come to place such value on his opinion of her, she didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.

  “Ruth,” he pleaded. “If you refuse, it will not only hurt my reputation but that of the Swan as well.”

  Ruth chewed her lip. If Topher had already told Mr. Kirkhouse of the Swan, the damage was already done. “Just this once,” she said.

  Topher nodded quickly. “Of course.”

  “I mean it, Topher. No more. I would rather return to Mama with a sure two hundred pounds than have ten clients like Mr. Kirkhouse who put it all at risk.”

  He nodded quickly. “You are right, of course. It was thoughtless of me. But I do think you will like Kirkhouse when you meet him tomorrow. And this girl he’s taken such a fancy to. She’s a sweet thing. I’m not the expert, of course, but I think what Kirkhouse needs is just a bit of a nudge, really—something to give him the confidence to declare his feelings, since I am fairly certain that she would accept him if she was sure he returned her regard.” He stood and went over to ring the bell. “And now, I must get ready. Rowney and I are going riding in the Park.”

  “Oh, of course. Sunday afternoons are the time to be seen, aren’t they? And it’s such a nice day today. Perhaps I shall come with you.”

  Topher looked so aghast at the suggestion that Ruth couldn’t help laughing.

  “Embarrassed of me, are you?” She cocked a brow and lowered her glasses to look severely at him. “Even in your own clothes?”

  Topher scoffed. “I can’t decide whether to admire or bemoan the fact that you are confident enough to go to church in Piccadilly wearing those.” He nodded to indicate her glasses.

  Ruth chuckled and took them off to inspect them. “They are rather hideous, aren’t they? But they serve their purpose, I think.” She sighed, collapsing the spectacles. “Very well, I shan’t come with you—to save your pride. But Lord Oxley has extended us an invitation to dine with him this evening if you care to come.”

  Topher’s brows shot up. “The viscount? Invited me to dinner? By Jove! Yes, yes. I shall make sure to be back in time. How are things going with that, anyway?”

  “Well enough.” Ruth had little desire to delve into things with Topher—especially not when he was so uncommunicative about his own dealings. Her feelings were becoming a confusing jumble, and, much as she loved her brother, she had no desire to discuss it with him. “You mustn’t forget, though, that to him you are Mr. Franks.”

  Topher nodded, already pulling out his attire for the day, his mind no doubt consumed with which style of knot would show to best advantage in the Park.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dinner with Ruth and Franks was a pleasant, laughter-filled affair for Philip. In fact, it had been some time since he had laughed so much. The two men seemed to have known each other from time immemorial and to thoroughly enjoy embarrassing one another by relating experiences to Philip, the telling of which was always challenged and amended by its subject. Franks was the more gregarious of the two and Ruth the wittier.

  True to his word, Philip refrained from talking about any business. It was refreshing to leave thoughts and talk of such things behind for an evening, like relieving a weight from his shoulders.

  When the two men left, Philip’s house felt suddenly bereft, the stark quiet making Philip frown. He felt a slight pang of envy, knowing that Ruth and
Franks were able to continue the spirit of the evening together. Philip had friends, of course—people he liked and enjoyed happening upon in Town. And he and Finmore had known one another for an age. But it was different. Just how it was different, Philip couldn’t quite put his finger on. But it was.

  Or maybe he was merely imagining it.

  When he strolled into Brooks’ the next day, he saw a number of the people he considered friends, Finmore among them. Finmore was often to be found at Brooks’, though what money he had to gamble with these days was an utter mystery to Philip.

  “Ah, there you are, Ox,” Finmore said, motioning him over to the whist table where he sat. “Hoped I’d see you here today.” He scribbled some words on the piece of paper in front of him and handed it to the man across from him.

  “More vowels?” Philip said, taking a seat next to rather than across from him to make it clear he hadn’t come to play. He wasn’t going to encourage Finmore’s recklessness.

  “Heard you went to church yesterday,” Finmore said, gathering the cards.

  “I did.”

  “Who’s this Ruth fellow you were there with?”

  Philip scoffed lightly. “Having me followed, are you?”

  Finmore’s half-smile appeared as he shuffled the cards into a neat pile. “The movements of the Viscount Oxley are always a matter of interest and discussion.”

  Philip stifled a sigh.

  “So. Who’s this odd youth you’ve taken under your wing?”

  Philip felt a strange protectiveness rise up in him, one he brushed aside. Ruth was capable of defending himself—he had made that clear quite quickly. In fact, Philip rather thought he would enjoy seeing Finmore attempt to take Ruth on in a battle of wits. Ruth’s appearance was certainly deceiving. And little did Finmore realize that it was Ruth who had taken Philip under his wing, in a way. What would he say if he knew that Ruth was the very Swan he had encouraged Philip to apply to for help? The thought brought a smile to Philip’s face. But as entertaining as it might have been, he didn’t wish for Finmore—or anyone—to know he was receiving such help.