by Martha Keyes
“He is the best of fellows, isn’t he?” Ruth said.
Miss Parkham offered an embarrassed, muttered agreement with Ruth’s words, but there was no mistaking the mutual admiration as Mr. Kirkhouse slowed to a stop beside them, alighting from the equipage and handing the reins off to his tiger.
Ruth remained with the two of them for a moment, ensuring that the conversation was off to a good start, before excusing herself to ask Mrs. Devenish a question. She stepped back, a satisfied smile on her face as she looked at the two couples. And if her heart panged as she watched Oxley and Miss Devenish laugh, she hardly regarded it, choosing instead to address herself to Mrs. Devenish on the wrought-iron bench beside the lane.
They spoke for a few minutes, allowing Oxley time to gain the momentum Ruth had spoken of earlier. Oxley glanced over at Ruth, the smile on his face reflected in Miss Devenish’s expression, and Ruth gave him a subtle nod. On the ride to the Park, she had advised that he make an effort to end the conversation with Miss Devenish at a high point—to leave her wanting more. How anyone could leave Oxley’s company without wanting more was admittedly a mystery to Ruth.
She hadn’t been able to speak with Miss Devenish alone, but it was just as well. Oxley seemed to be making headway with her, and that was more important than any unverifiable rumors. She still couldn’t fathom that a woman could be anything but a welcome recipient of Oxley’s attentions.
They bid the women and Mr. Kirkhouse farewell, untying their horses from the nearest posts, and following the route of the Serpentine.
“Well, that went much better than I could have hoped for,” Oxley said, wearing the smile of success. “Your advice about focusing on making a friend of her rather than a wife bore fruit. I even succeeded in making her laugh two or three times.”
“Yes,” Ruth said. “I noticed.”
“I mean to make you proud as a pupil,” he said, sending her that charming smile that sent her heart into her throat. “Good day, Munroe.”
Ruth’s muscles tensed as she met eyes with Mr. Munroe, and she didn’t miss the hint of a sneer that pulled at his lip.
“Good day, my lord,” Mr. Munroe said, inclining his head at Oxley. His gaze returned to Ruth.
“You are acquainted with Mr. Henry Ruth, are you not?” Oxley asked.
“Yes,” Munroe said. “What interesting company you choose to keep, Oxley.” His contemptuous smile made Ruth’s heart beat more quickly, and she was glad that she had met Munroe in Oxley’s company. She felt safer with him. It was unfortunate that he came to find her with Miss Parkham and Miss Devenish again, though. She had the sense that he regarded her as some type of competitor. If he only knew….
“And now,” said Munroe. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I see some acquaintances.” And with a tip of his head at Oxley and the merest flicker of his eyes at Ruth, he continued on his way toward Miss Devenish and Miss Parkham.
Ruth felt her neck and cheeks warming at Munroe’s treatment of her—and at the knowledge that she didn’t reflect well upon Lord Oxley.
Oxley looked over his shoulder in Munroe’s direction. “He sees some acquaintances? More like victims. If only we had been ten minutes later in our arrival, I might have saved Miss Devenish from his attentions. Miss Parkham, too.”
Ruth glanced at him, wondering if he felt the same jealousy over Miss Devenish that Ruth did over him. “Surely Munroe doesn’t consider himself a real candidate?”
Oxley sent her a look full of meaning. “Oh, I assure you he does. For both Miss Devenish and Miss Parkham. He was a friend of Mr. Parkham’s before the man passed, and it was fairly well-known that he intended to have Miss Parkham to wife—until he met Miss Devenish, that is. Somehow, he now feels he has a claim to both women, with Miss Parkham being the contingency plan if he is unsuccessful with Miss Devenish.”
Ruth’s stomach sank. Of all the people in London, she had managed to involve herself with the two women Mr. Munroe wanted.
“I see you have been so unfortunate as to incur his displeasure.”
“Yes,” Ruth said. “I told you how I came upon Miss Devenish in the Park and how I stepped in. It was his conversation I cut short by pretending an acquaintance with her. He was far from pleased.”
Oxley chuckled. “No, I am sure he was not. The man has a volatile temper—he cannot abide being crossed.”
Ruth ignored the misgiving she felt. If she could manage to have everything in order between Miss Devenish and Oxley by the Walthams’ masquerade, she and Topher could return to Marsbrooke where she would be able to put Mr. Munroe’s dislike of her aside—and hopefully her fast-growing feelings for the viscount. “He certainly seems to think less of you after seeing me in your company.”
“All the more reason for you to accompany me anywhere I might happen upon him. There is something terribly satisfying about irritating Munroe. And he makes it so easy.” Oxley looked at her. “Does his dislike worry you?”
She forced a smile. “A bit, if I am being quite honest. I am not accustomed to people taking notice of me—for good or ill.”
“Even with those spectacles?” Oxley said with his teasing smile. He was trying to set her at ease, and the gesture warmed her heart. But he didn’t know about Kirkhouse and Miss Parkham, and the thought of what he might say if he did know was like a bucket of cold water from the Serpentine on her heart. They had never explicitly stated that Ruth could not take on other clients, but Oxley certainly wouldn’t have appeared with her in public if he had any idea that she would be recognized by anyone as The Swan. She fervently hoped that Mr. Kirkhouse was as discreet as Topher had assured her he was. Perhaps she should have said something to him explicitly.
Oxley seemed to notice that she was still anxious, and his face took on a more serious expression. “Munroe is one of those small men who is always in search of someone to bully. The more you show him any fear, the more you play into his hands. There is no love lost between Munroe and me, either, but he knows I won’t stand for his harassing.”
Ruth smiled wryly. “I rather think the triad is at play there. He would be a fool to attempt bullying you.”
“Perhaps so, but Munroe has underestimated you, and I hope you will ensure he realizes it the next time he attempts to make you feel small.”
They approached the fork in the lane, one route curving around and skirting Kensington Gardens, the other cutting through the center of the Park toward Oxford Street.
“I have some business at the silversmith’s,” Oxley said. “Join me?”
Ruth wanted to. She would have spent every moment of the day in his company if she could have. But she was not so lost to sense that she imagined such an approach was in her best interests. Her time with Lord Oxley should be restricted to business. She needed to take the rest of the day to remind herself of that—to refocus her mind and her heart on her purpose.
“I would that I could,” she said, entirely in earnest. “I told Franks that I would sit down with him to go over some papers.” It wasn’t a full-fledged lie. She and Topher did need to go over things together—Topher needed a reminder of their purpose as much as she did. Whether her twin could be found at home was another matter.
Oxley nodded. “When do we next meet, then?”
“Tomorrow?”
Oxley grimaced, though a hint of a smile lightened the gesture. “I am afraid I have a longstanding engagement—tea with Anne and Mary.”
Ruth smiled as she remembered watching him with them at the church. “Ah, yes. Well, I would never encourage you to court their displeasure by crying off. Friday, then?”
Oxley nodded, and they bid one another farewell. Knowing she wouldn’t see him for two days, she knew a bit of regret at having refused the invitation to accompany him to Oxford Street.
She followed the lane past the deer pound and Kensington Gardens, her brow furrowed. Having so few acquaintances in Town, she wasn’t obliged to stop or even greet anyone on her ride, despite it being the fashionable hour a
nd full of smartly-dressed ladies and gentlemen. She was at her leisure to observe those around her—and to feel keenly just how different was the world she was currently living in.
Surrounded by such opulence and gaiety and living in Upper Brook Street, just a stone’s throw from the Park, it was easy to forget the life she had come from, as if the year she had spent in Marsbrooke was the temporary situation rather than this short time in London. But the truth was, Ruth and her family couldn’t even afford a doll imitating the style of the women she was riding by, much less live the lifestyle of such women.
But there was little use lamenting what couldn’t be helped, and surely she wouldn’t trade George’s wet kisses for a life in Town, even were it a possibility. She was an impostor here in every way imaginable.
She froze, hands jerking at the reins slightly. Her horse tossed its head and danced skittishly as a phaeton approached, and Ruth absently nodded her apology at the driver and the woman beside him as they whipped by. She blinked and retrained her eyes at the cause of her distraction.
But there was no mistaking the waistcoat, nor the shade of lavender of the woman’s dress, partially concealed though the couple was by the little copse of trees they stood within.
Chapter Eighteen
Nor was there any mistaking the way Topher held Miss Devenish’s hand within his, clasped up by his chest in a manner that left little doubt of their relationship. Far from repulsing Topher’s intimacy, Miss Devenish was looking up into his eyes, a shy smile on her lips. A quick glance told Ruth that Miss Parkham and Mrs. Devenish were walking together, ahead of Topher and Miss Devenish, who seemed to have stopped when they came upon the obliging grove of trees.
Ruth pulled at the reins, slowing her horse to a bare walk, unable to take her eyes from the scene before her as panic welled inside her. All of Topher’s time away from Upper Brook Street, his abnormally good humor, his unwillingness to tell her anything of his activities during their stay in Town…was this truly what he had been at? Courting Miss Devenish?
How foolish Ruth had been to assume his good humor was merely a result of being in Town! She should have noticed before what she saw now, clear as day: the flush of infatuation.
She swung down from her horse, tugging it along with her as she swallowed down the bile rising in her throat.
“Franks!” she said as she came upon them.
Their heads whipped around, and unwelcome surprise immediately shadowed Topher’s eyes.
“Mr. Ruth,” said Miss Devenish, showing far less embarrassment than Topher. “We meet again.”
Ruth forced a smile. “Indeed. It is always a pleasure to come upon you, Miss Devenish.” That was certainly an untruth in this situation, but Ruth wasn’t so angry to realize that Miss Devenish bore no blame here. “I am afraid I have to spirit Mr. Franks away from you, though. We have an engagement that we cannot forgo.” She resisted the impulse to seize her brother’s arm and perhaps drag him behind her horse through the Park.
Topher looked at her warily but nodded. “Just so. I must have lost track of the time. Allow me to accompany you back to your mother and Miss Parkham.”
“No,” Ruth said blankly. Realizing how authoritative she sounded, she forced a brittle-sounding chuckle. “It looks as though they are waiting for you, Miss Devenish.” She nodded to indicate where the two women stood twenty yards distant.
Ruth and Topher both executed their bows, and Miss Devenish sent the latter a smile that made Ruth’s stomach plummet to the ground. Heaven help all of them. She didn’t dare consider the ramifications of what she had just witnessed.
When Miss Devenish had disappeared, Ruth swung around toward her horse. Her jaw was so tightly clenched, she didn’t know if she could have spoken even if she wanted to. As it was, she had no desire to treat everyone at the Park to the display Topher would be subjected to when they arrived back in Upper Brook Street.
He seemed to sense that trouble was brewing and forbore speaking with Ruth. Everything within her pushed her to ride the remainder of the way at a gallop, but Topher was on foot, and she had to content herself with keeping a pace that forced him to take long strides, interspersed with a few skips here and there to keep up.
She said nothing as she handed the horse off to the groom, and maintained her silence as they walked up the three steps to the townhouse, nor did she say a word as they scaled the stairs inside. Not until the door closed behind them in Topher’s bedchamber did she turn toward her twin.
“Have you lost your senses?”
He sighed and pulled off his hat. “I know, Ruth. She is so far above my reach that it seems like madness! But she loves me. And I love her.”
Ruth tossed her hat onto the bed and rubbed her forehead harshly, not trusting herself to say anything even approaching civility to her brother. She felt trapped in a nightmare.
“I wasn’t even aware you were acquainted with her,” Topher said, “but if you are, I imagine you understand why I feel the way I do.”
Ruth whipped around, staring at him with round eyes and knit brows. “Acquainted with her? What kind of fool’s prank is this?”
He blinked at her. “Prank? I assure you it is no prank. I am in earnest, Ruth. And I should think you might understand now why I didn’t wish to tell you of Rebecca. Only look how you are reacting.”
“Rebecca?” She covered her eyes with both of her hands, groaning. Her anger reared its head again, and she let her hands drop to her sides. “Topher, you can never see her again.” She stared at him with as much force as she could muster. “Ever. Do you understand? Go back to Marsbrooke if you cannot muster the discipline for such an arrangement, but you cannot continue seeing her.”
His brow blackened. “I cannot, can I? You would have me abandon the woman I love—and who loves me in return?”
She was momentarily bereft of speech. “And you would risk everything I am working toward for a woman who doesn’t even know your true name?”
He looked away. “I am going to tell her. She will understand. She loves me for who I am—not for my name.”
“Does she? Does she know that you haven’t a penny to your name and have taken to smuggling to help feed your family?”
“She won’t care. She doesn’t care about money, Ruth. She is better than that.”
Ruth scoffed. “So you shall tell her, shall you? And will you tell Oxley as well? Will he be so understanding? For I can assure you that it is you and not I who will tell him.”
Topher shot her an annoyed glance. “Of course I shan’t tell Oxley. It is none of his business.”
“None of—” Ruth stared at her twin, uncomprehending. “He is paying me two hundred pounds to help him win her over! No doubt you wish for me to continue on as usual, defrauding him of his money while my own brother pays his addresses to her?”
Topher’s face went pale, his eyes round, as though he was staring at a ghost. His cravat bobbed. “You mean Miss Devenish is the woman Oxley wishes to marry?”
“Of course she is!”
His head shook slowly from side to side in horror.
Ruth stared at him, trying to understand his reaction—there was no acting or artifice in it. “You…you mean to say you didn’t know?”
“No! No. I was certain that…I…I…you must not have said her name.”
“Surely I have!” But she was not sure. They had spoken little of the specifics of Oxley’s situation. Topher was rarely at home to speak with. And now she knew why.
Topher shook his head again. “I swore I never knew, Ruth, I…” Grief began to dispel the horror in his eyes, and he slumped down upon his bed, eyes unfocused.
Ruth forced herself to take a deep breath. Topher hadn’t intentionally undermined what she was doing with Oxley. It was a mistake.
A terrible mistake.
She sat down beside him and put a hand on his back, speaking softly. “I am sorry, Topher. I am. But you must end things with her.”
His jaw hardened, and his nostri
ls flared. “I cannot.”
Ruth’s hand dropped, and anger warmed her blood again as she shifted to face him. “You can, and you must. I did not make all of these sacrifices only for you to—”
Topher let out a caustic laugh. “Sacrifices? Sacrifices? You aren’t sacrificing anything! You are in love with Oxley, Ruth! I’m not so blind I couldn’t see that after five minutes at his house with you.”
Heat seared Ruth’s cheeks. “I am not. He is a friend. It is business.”
Topher raised a brow at her. “Well, which is it? You may be deceiving Oxley, and you may be deceiving yourself, but you aren’t deceiving me.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Ruth turned her body and jerked at the cravat around her neck, mortified to find that tears had sprung to her eyes. “The fact is, I cannot have Oxley any more than you can have Miss Devenish. For a dozen reasons.”
“She loves me, Ruth,” Topher said, rising to a stand so that he looked down at her.
Ruth rose to face him. “I don’t care.” Her chest heaved.
“No,” Topher said, disgust and rage on his face. “You don’t care. You cannot have your precious viscount, so you want me to be as miserable as you are.” He whirled around and walked toward the escritoire, kicking at one of the legs.
All at once, Ruth’s energy withered. She slumped over and let her head fall into her hands. Her spectacles dug into the bridge of her nose, and she tore them off, tossing them on the bed and rubbing at the area. “I don’t wish you to be miserable, Topher. You say Miss Devenish loves you, but does she know you? Does she know that you are poor?”
He swallowed and looked away.
“You wear a disguise just as I do, Topher. And, kind and good as her heart may be, she will not marry a poor man, especially one who has deceived her. Her family won’t allow it. I spoke to her mother only today, and while they will let her choose her husband, there are limits to how far that boundary extends. We are well outside of those limits.”
“Her parents like me,” Topher said. But she could hear the doubt in his voice.