True of Heart (Regency Shakespeare Book 3)

by Martha Keyes

  A few quick footsteps brought him to her, and he took her hands in his. “I have been grieving you, Ruth—grieving my own stupidity and boorishness—and I needed to see you. Tell me I haven’t lost you.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat, stopping her from speaking, and she shook her head.

  He let out a relieved, shaky laugh, and his hands clasped hers more tightly. “I still need the Swan’s services, but not for myself.” He put a hand to her cheek. “I assure you, I need no help at all loving you. I only need to know whether you can be persuaded to love me again.”

  She covered the hand on her cheek with her own hand and pressed a kiss into it. “I never stopped, Philip. I have loved you and wanted you for myself almost as long as I have known you. But I never thought I could have you.” She stared up into his eyes, hoping he could see her sincerity. “I am so sorry for keeping things from you. I was so scared of losing you that I couldn’t bear the thought of giving you a reason to end what we had—the friendship that had come to mean so much to me.”

  He lowered his forehead until it met hers. “I understand. And I forgive you with all my heart. Please forgive me for being so blind and insufferably proud.”

  “I am used to the insufferable part,” she said with a smile. “And I have a pair of spectacles for the blindness.”

  He laughed softly, and the sound filled some of the holes that had plagued her since he had left her standing in Grosvenor Square. “I will wear even those ridiculous glasses if it will please you, my love.” He pulled back, staring down into her eyes. “I thought the reason I was always at ease with you was that I thought you a man when we met. But I was wrong. You are everything I need, Ruth. And everything I want.”

  She looked down, shaking her head. “I am not what you want, Philip. I am not Rebecca Devenish—I am nothing like her—or like any of the women you should marry. I am poor, unknown, with no reputation to speak of. I could hardly be less fit to marry a viscount.”

  He tipped her chin up with his finger, his brow drawn into a frown. “I do want you, Ruth. More than I have wanted anything in my life. I want you just the way you are”—the corner of his mouth lifted, and he put a gentle hand to her head—“short hair”—he grasped her hand and brought it up to display it—“wrinkled fingers”—he put his over her heart—“and the kindest soul of anyone I know. I want you or no one at all.”

  Ruth shut her eyes, letting his words soak into her, feeling her heart beat against his hand.

  “Will you have me, Ruth?”

  She kept her eyes shut, breathing in amber and wet soil and laundry soap, the scents of disparate worlds. She wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers, bringing the two worlds into collision and melding them together as their mouths met and molded to one another. His hand moved from her heart around to the small of her back, drawing her nearer, and she ceded to it, answering his question with every means available to her but speech.

  Giggling sounded, and they broke apart just as Joanna and George darted into the garden, the latter chasing after his older sister.

  “He is going to get me, Ruth! Make him stop!” Joanna cried somewhere between a laugh and a scream.

  Ruth caught at George’s sleeve and scooped him up into her arms. He kicked and writhed, and she struggled to control him.

  Philip took him from her arms, restraining the young child in an unyielding hold. “So this is Master George, is it?”

  George attempted to free himself one more time then surrendered, looking at his captor with unabashed curiosity. “Who are you?”

  “I am to be your newest brother,” Philip said, all formality.

  George’s nose and forehead wrinkled. “I already have too many of those.”

  Philip laughed and set him on the ground.

  Joanna had her head tilted to the side, her gaze moving from Ruth to Philip and back again. “Are you going to marry Ruthie?”

  Philip looked down at Ruth and took her hand in his again. “I am indeed.”

  “But John says that Ruth can’t marry till her hair grows long again, ‘cos people think she’s a boy!”

  “George!” Joanna elbowed her brother.

  Ruth sent a challenging look at Philip. “Do you intend to wait until my hair grows long again before you marry me?”

  “It shall be a miracle if I can manage to wait to marry you until the banns are read,” he said in an undervoice.

  “You shall have to wait until after Topher and Miss Devenish marry,” Joanna said, “for they were betrothed first. It is only fair.”

  Philip glanced at Ruth in surprise, and she laughed and confirmed her sister’s words with a nod. “She came only yesterday with her father.”

  “Well, that does complicate things, doesn’t it? For, as you said, Miss Joanna, fair is fair.” Philip crouched down and beckoned the children. “But perhaps we might come to an arrangement.”

  George frowned and crossed his arms. “What sort of arrangement?”

  Philip held up a finger. “Wait one moment.”

  He stood and moved past Ruth, pausing to plant a hasty kiss on her lips before disappearing inside for a moment. When he emerged, both hands were behind his back. He crouched down again in front of Joanna and George, and Ruth covered her mouth with a hand as she recognized what he held. He had remembered.

  “What are you holding behind your back?” George asked, trying to sneak a peek.

  “An offering,” Philip said. “One for Miss Joanna”—he pulled one hand from behind his back, displaying a small, porcelain doll, with rich, brown hair and a green silk dress—“and one for Master George.” He pulled out the other hand, revealing a small, wooden horse.

  Both sets of eyes rounded, and their hands flung out to take the toys in hand. They tilted the gifts, admiring them from different angles, until Joanna directed her large eyes at Philip. “You may marry Ruthie today if you wish.”

  Philip chuckled and rose to his feet, moving back toward Ruth and wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “I see you are not above bribery, my lord,” Ruth said, trying to direct a quelling look at him, though her mouth betrayed her with a smile.

  “One must speak in the language a child understands.” He glanced at the children, who were comparing their gifts as they walked back toward the end of the garden. “Besides, it was necessary to distract them.”

  She raised her brows. “And why is that?”

  “Because I wasn’t anywhere near done kissing you.”

  Epilogue

  Ruth could only stare. Never in her life had she seen an estate as grand as the one that stood before her—her new home, with a façade that seemed to stretch on for an eon, and a whole host of windows staring down at her.

  She blinked, realizing that her husband was addressing her—and still holding her hand to assist her down from the carriage.

  “Hmm?” she said dazedly.

  Philip chuckled. “I merely said, ‘Welcome home, my love.’” He pulled her down from the carriage, and she toppled into his arms, her awe at the sight of Oxley Court giving way to surprised laughter. Philip quickly put a stop to it with a warm and persistent kiss on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his embrace gladly, until she realized there was a line of servants waiting to greet them.

  She pulled away, her cheeks filling with heat. “They are waiting for us,” she whispered.

  Philip glanced over at his staff with only faint interest. “Indeed, they are. I am paying them to do so.” He dipped his head to steal another kiss, but Ruth stopped him.

  He sighed and set her feet on the ground, though the corner of his mouth trembled with a smile. “Very well. We will finish that presently.” He took her hand and guided her through the lane of servants, each of whom greeted her with a smile, curious eyes, and a curtsy or bow.

  Ruth couldn’t imagine having responsibility over the half of them. She had wondered if there might be just a bit of embarrassment or shame in Philip�
�s manner as he introduced his short-haired, scandal-tainted bride to the staff of Oxley Court, but there was nothing but pride in his eyes, and it warmed her heart to see.

  “My lord,” said the butler, coming to walk beside Philip as they made their way to the door. “I hesitate to take your attention away so soon after your arrival, but I’m afraid there is an urgent matter of business to attend to in the library.” He cleared his throat, donning a look of long-suffering disapproval.

  Philip stared at his butler for a moment, then looked to Ruth.

  The last thing she wanted was to be left alone in the grand manor immediately after their arrival. But she would have to accustom herself to the place sooner or later. And she didn’t want to pull Philip away from anything urgent.

  “If someone can just show me to my bedchamber…” she said.

  Philip shook his head. “Will you come with me to the library? I can’t imagine the matter will take long to see to, but if it does, I will take you to our bedchamber”—he gave her a speaking, smiling look—“myself before returning to the matter.”

  She smiled and nodded her agreement.

  Philip guided her through the front door and down the window-lined corridor with what seemed like a dozen carved wooden doors leading off of it. He stopped in front of one of the doors and gave Ruth a significant look. “Prepare yourself.”

  “For what?” she asked. “A room full of books?”

  He gave a grimace and opened the door, pulling her in by the hand.

  It was a grand library, with shelf after shelf towering above. Ruth’s eyes roved over them, stopping suddenly. “Oh my.” Like the shelves around it, a portrait larger than any Ruth had ever seen loomed at the far end of the room. The subject was a grand, elegant woman, her hair dark and precise, eyes piercing, and a mouth that seemed to somehow smile and intimidate at the same time.

  “Meet my mother, my love.” He sighed. “You understand now why I tend to avoid this room.” He let go of her hand and walked to the desk, where an unsealed letter sat.

  Ruth tilted her head, wondering if perhaps the late Viscountess Oxley wouldn’t look quite so daunting from a different angle. But no. There was no avoiding the intimidation she oozed.

  “Well,” she said, removing her bonnet, “I did not have the pleasure of meeting your mother, Philip, but I cannot think that even the kindest person could look anything but threatening in such a grand painting.”

  He chuckled as he unfolded the note. “If she overwhelms you in that, be grateful you didn’t meet her when she was alive.” His eyes narrowed as they ran over the missive. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

  “What is it?” Ruth asked, walking over to join him.

  He handed her the letter. “See for yourself.”

  It was short.

  Welcome home, Ox. I’ve taken up residence in the Green Room.

  Fin

  P.S. You are out of brandy

  “The Green Room?” Ruth asked, looking to her husband.

  He opened his mouth to respond, but the door opened just then.

  “Finally!” Finmore walked in, and the butler appeared behind him, an apologetic expression on his face. Finmore closed the door behind himself, though, shutting the butler out. “I wrote that note an eon ago. I thought you were only meant to be gone a fortnight.” He came and bowed over Ruth’s hand, the same rakish smile in his eyes as always. “Lady Oxley,” he said.

  Philip swatted at Finmore’s arm. “We were only meant to be gone a fortnight.” He put an arm about Ruth’s waist and pulled her closer. She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her, warmth in his eyes. “We found we weren’t quite ready to come home yet.” He turned his gaze back to Finmore, and his smile faded. “If I’d have known what would be here to greet me, we would have stayed away even longer.”

  Finmore laughed as he wandered over to the liquor cabinet.

  “I was quite certain when I last left here that the brandy was well-stocked,” Philip said.

  Finmore took out each decanter by turns, frowning at them. “Yes, well, I’ve been here ten days waiting.”

  “Ten days!” Philip exclaimed.

  Finmore poured himself a glass. “When a man says he will be home in a fortnight, I believe him. By the by, did you hear about Munroe? No, I imagine not, as you’ve been taken up with…” He glanced at Ruth, a knowing smile on his face.

  “Out with it, Finmore,” Philip said. “If you mean to convey gossip, at least do it speedily. I have other things to attend to.” He sent his own significant look at Ruth, and she tried to stifle a yelp as he squeezed her waist.

  Finmore watched them with an expression of distaste. “I’m afraid poor old Munroe was obliged to take flight to somewhere less accessible to those who wish him ill.”

  “Who wishes him ill?” Ruth couldn’t help asking. Philip cared little for gossip, but she couldn’t stifle her own curiosity.

  “Who doesn’t?” Philip asked, tossing Finmore’s letter into the fire grate.

  Finmore frowned at the gesture. “Apparently, he tried to fly to the border with a young heiress, but they were apprehended by her father.”

  “A riveting tale,” Philip said. “And now will you leave my wife and me be? I understand the rooms at the Black Boar are very comfortable.”

  Finmore swallowed the last of his drink then shook his head. “Not possible.”

  “Done up again?” Philip asked on a sigh.

  Finmore gave a slight nod. “Straits are becoming quite dire. I knew I might depend upon you to house me while I rusticate a bit.”

  “Your confidence in the lengths of my hospitality is inspiring, Fin. But unfortunately inaccurate.”

  “You’ve plenty of space.” Finmore gestured around the library. “Surely you can’t begrudge a room or two.”

  Philip put out a peremptory hand and pulled his friend from his seat. “I assure you I both can and do. You will have to rusticate elsewhere. I have no intention of sharing Oxley Court with both you and my bride. Besides, the Hawthorns are set to arrive in a few days, and then the place shall be overrun with children.”

  Ruth smiled at Finmore’s disturbed reaction. Oxley Court might feel crowded to Philip or Finmore, but to children who had just been living in Marsbrooke, it would feel like an entire world to explore.

  “If you’re so done up,” Philip said, “you might consider the state of matrimony for yourself, Fin.” He returned to Ruth, pulling her toward him and wrapping his arms around her without a shred of embarrassment. “Ruth might even agree to help you with a bit of advice.”

  Finmore wrinkled his nose at the sight of their affection. “No, thank you. Not all of us are so entirely helpless in that area as you, Ox. I shall exhaust my options before I turn to marriage to solve anything.”

  Philip didn’t respond, merely kissing Ruth in a way that left her breathless—and a bit sorry for Finmore that he might never experience such a thing with the woman he loved.

  “On second thought,” Finmore said in a voice of distaste, “the Black Boar is beginning to sound more appealing by the moment.”

  Philip didn’t give any indication of intending to stop kissing Ruth, and Finmore let out a disgusted noise. Ruth was vaguely aware of the sound of his footsteps departing and the door opening and shutting.

  Philip looked up finally, smiling. “Now that I know how to get rid of him, we may well never see him again.”

  Ruth laughed, and he pulled her more tightly to him with one arm and ran a hand through her growing locks with his other.

  He stared at her intently, and his expression softened. “I never imagined that I would share this home with a woman I admire and love more than my own life. I have lived most of my life here, but never have I felt more at home than I do right now. I know it is a bit overwhelming for you, but I hope you will give it a chance, my love.”

  Grasping his lapels more tightly, she pulled him down, catching his lips to hers. She had wondered of late whether she would ever accustom herse
lf to the life she had now. She would—she knew she would. And she knew it would be her choice, too, to ensure she never forgot how fortunate she was to be with the man whose arms were now around her.

  She pulled away slightly, allowing their noses to touch. “I will stand by you here”— she glanced furtively to the other side of the library and smiled—"under this utterly terrifying portrait of your mother—or anywhere you choose, Philip. And, wherever we are, whatever life brings, I promise to love you every day of it—even when you are insufferable.”

  He laughed softly. “And I promise to love you every day of it, little panda. Now, come. I believe we have some unfinished business.” He raised a brow. “Did I not promise to show you to our bedchamber?”

  And with that, he scooped her into his arms and carried her all the way there.

  THE END

  Afterword

  Thank you so much for reading True of Heart. It was such a challenge for me to write, but a fun one. I hope you enjoyed getting to know the characters.

  I have done my best to be true to the time period and particulars of the day, so I apologize if I got anything wrong. I continue learning and researching while trying to craft stories that will be enjoyable to readers like you.

  If you enjoyed the book, please leave a review and tell your friends! Authors like me rely on readers like you to spread the word about books you’ve enjoyed.

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  Other titles by Martha Keyes

  If you enjoyed this book, make sure to check out my other books:

  Families of Dorset Series

  Wyndcross: A Regency Romance (Book One)

  Isabel: A Regency Romance (Book Two)

  Cecilia: A Regency Romance (Book Three)

  Hazelhurst: A Regency Romance (Book Four)

  Phoebe: A Regency Romance (Series Novelette)