True of Heart (Regency Shakespeare Book 3)

by Martha Keyes

  “Of course they do. They would be foolish not to—you are charming and kind. But, while their love for their daughter might extend to her choosing a mere gentleman over a viscount, you cannot possibly think that they would look upon the match with equanimity when they discover the true state of things.”

  Topher’s nostrils flared, and his chin quivered slightly as he sat down slowly in the desk chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

  Ruth swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away. In her brother’s face, she saw her own pain—the pain of admitting that what he wanted with all his heart simply could not be. She rose from the bed and stepped toward him, kneeling so that she could look up into his face.

  “In less than a fortnight, we will return home to Mama.” She took one of his hands in hers. “We may both return with broken hearts, but we will not return empty-handed. And I cannot help hoping that, when we see the relief and joy upon Mama’s face, and when we watch the children delight in a full meal, it will be a bit of salve on our wounds.” She pressed his hand.

  They remained in silence for a few minutes, and when Ruth spoke again, she kept her voice soft. “How did this happen, Toph?”

  He didn’t respond for a moment, and when he did, his voice sounded heavy. “I met her that first night in Town. I’d made friends with Rowney over a hand of cards and a glass of port at a brewery not far from here, and he insisted I join him at a small party near his lodgings. I agreed—I liked the fellow, and it seemed like my best chance of spending an amusing evening. Rebecca was there—the most angelic creature I have ever laid eyes on.”

  His eyes glazed over with memory, and some of the pain on his face dissipated. “When an impromptu dance began, I excused myself, not knowing the figures well enough to join in with confidence. Rebecca was sitting out, of course, for she hasn’t danced in more than a year. Rowney suggested we keep one another company, and so we did. And she was every bit as angelic in person as I had thought her from across the room. More so, even. I knew I would likely never see her again—we would be leaving Town soon. And that knowledge gave me confidence.”

  His mouth turned up in a small half-smile. “I made her laugh, asked her question after question. I wanted to know everything about her. And when she asked me about myself, I did as you suggested.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I tried to forget we ever left Dunburn—answered as if she was meeting the Topher Hawthorn of two years ago—the heir of Dunburn instead of the Topher Hawthorn who shares a room with his three younger brothers.” His head moved slowly from side to side. “I could see and feel the connection between us—so much that when Rowney and I returned to his lodgings after the party, I felt like I had lost my future all over again.”

  He let out a sigh and dropped his head. “I drank deeply that night and slept until late. Didn’t want to wake up to reality, I suppose. So when you told me Oxley was willing to pay you to stay on, I was elated. I couldn’t help myself—couldn’t keep myself from seeking her out wherever I could. And she wanted me to, Ruth. She welcomed it.”

  Ruth nodded.

  “But you are right.” He watched his fingers twiddling in his lap. “She doesn’t know me or my name—or that I haven’t two shillings to rub together. She deserves better. She deserves someone like Oxley.”

  Ruth blinked quickly and dashed away a tear from her eye. She knew his pain. But at least Miss Devenish loved him in return. Or perhaps that made him more to be pitied—what he wanted was within reach, and that would make giving it up all the more painful. Ruth’s desires were mere foolish fantasies.

  Topher looked up at Ruth again. “Does Oxley love her?”

  Ruth pressed her lips together. “He respects and admires her. And I think he will come to love her in time.”

  Topher looked away, clenching his eyes shut. Silence reigned for some time, both of them lost in the pain of the reality they faced.

  “I will tell her,” Topher finally said.

  “Tell her what? You cannot tell her the truth.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “I will figure something out.”

  Ruth sighed. “Even if you do, there is no guarantee she will take Oxley. Not if she is so deeply in love with you.”

  His hand balled into a fist within hers, and he met her gaze, his forehead heavy-laden with soberness. “She will if I make it clear that there is no chance of a future for us—if I inspire her with dislike of me. Besides, you can make them love each other. It is what you do.”

  Ruth shut her eyes. “I don’t know if I can, Topher. I am not, much as I wish I were, an unbiased observer.” She lowered her gaze. “But I have to try.” Her chin attempted to quiver, and she set her jaw. “They are both good people, and they stand a very good chance at happiness together.”

  He stood abruptly, as if her words had singed him. “I will tell her tomorrow.” He stood by the door, as if inviting her to leave.

  She rose slowly and walked toward him, stopping for a moment. “I am sorry, Topher. I truly am.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Philip took a dainty sip, allowing his pinky finger to stick out and watching his nieces over the top of his empty teacup. After one sip, he had made the difficult choice to gulp it all down at once, hoping to minimize the amount of time he was exposed to the questionable concoction. Apparently he was not like Ruth’s father—he would rather get it all over with than draw it out.

  Mary giggled in delight, and Anne smiled with approval. “I hope the tea is to your liking.”

  Philip set down his cup on its plate, but his pinky finger remained extended. “Indeed,” he said in a high-pitched, shrill voice. “The best I have ever tasted, I declare.”

  More giggles ensued.

  The door opened, and Alice stopped in the doorway, smiling at the scene before her. “I should rather think your tea had gone cold by now.”

  “Oh, no,” Anne said. “This is a second batch. Uncle Phil drank the entire first batch.”

  He had. At great cost to himself. This second batch was worse.

  Alice stepped into the room. “I hadn’t any idea he was so fond of tea. I am afraid that this tea party must come to an end, though. It is time for your lessons, girls. Go on. Mrs. Morris is waiting for you.”

  The girls dipped into curtsies for Philip then scurried from the room. He smiled and rose from the chair he had been sitting in—a miniscule thing meant for children. It had taken considerable effort not to break it. His thighs ached from the effort of keeping much of his weight from it.

  “How are things with Miss Devenish?” Alice asked.

  Straight to it, then. She was never one for beating around the bush. “Well enough. We shall see, though, after the Walthams’ masquerade.”

  “There is much you should be doing now, though, Philip, in preparation for—”

  “I know, Alice. I know. And rest assured, I am doing those things.”

  Her brow furrowed. “It hardly seems so. You seem to be spending all of your time with that Ruth fellow.”

  Philip scoffed. “Does everyone track my movements, or is it just you and Finmore?”

  “I am your sister. It is my business to keep apprised of your dealings. But how did you come to befriend such a strange fellow?”

  Philip shrugged. “He is an old acquaintance. Why does it matter?”

  “I suppose it doesn’t. When I first saw him with you, I didn’t know what to think. Those spectacles are absolutely horrid. But he seems harmless enough. What of Finmore, though? I haven’t seen you with him as much of late.”

  Philip had to stifle a laugh. That his sister would harbor qualms about his friendship with Ruth rather than Finmore was rich indeed. No doubt her concern was whether Ruth added enough to Philip’s consequence to merit the amount of time he spent in Ruth’s company. But the truth was, after spending so much time on estate business, Philip hadn’t even realized how much he needed a good friend. And Ruth was filling that role very well.

  “Finmor
e had to leave town for a few days. Done up, as usual. He shall be back the moment he has a shilling to his name, undoubtedly.”

  “Hm. Well, I hope you know that my offer still stands to invite Miss Devenish over for dinner—and to give you a few suggestions on how to win her over.”

  Philip forced a smile. “You are ever helpful, Alice, but no thank you.”

  She sent him a dissatisfied look. “One would think you would wish to try everything in your power to ensure your success with her, not that I doubt that you will be. Successful, I mean. I have been thinking about it ever since you mentioned her as your choice, and I am of the opinion that you couldn’t do better for Oxley Court than Miss Devenish. Certainly she is not from a titled family, which is regrettable, of course, but the Devenishes are nearly as ancient as the Trents, you know, and—”

  “I am aware of all the things Miss Devenish has to recommend her.”

  She smiled. “I know you are. I just want you to be successful, Philip. Oxley Court has been far too long without a mistress, and everyone awaits news of your choice with bated breath. I am merely glad that you have made such a fine choice, and I look forward to the time when I can greet Miss Devenish as my sister.”

  He offered a tight smile in return. Her words were little comfort to him. She continued to assume that Miss Devenish would accept him, and the more Alice pressed him on the matter, the more annoyed he became; the more he found himself wanting to do something contrary. He quashed the immature desire.

  “Thank you, Alice.” He kissed her cheek. “I am afraid I must go now.”

  Chapter Twenty

  On Friday, Ruth stepped down from the curricle in front of the house in Upper Brook Street, hurrying up the steps. She hadn’t expected to spend so long with Mr. Kirkhouse. He had requested a second meeting, and Ruth had taken advantage of the time before her next appointment with Oxley to oblige the man.

  He had offered her another five pounds at the end of the meeting, but Ruth hadn’t accepted. Somehow it felt less like a betrayal of Oxley—as though she was merely assisting a friend rather than acting as the Swan. “You have hardly needed my help, Mr. Kirkhouse. I am quite confident that your suit would have been successful even without my assistance.”

  Mr. Kirkhouse had denied this, expressing how it was only after following Ruth’s advice that Miss Parkham had expressed that she returned his regard. The man was over the moon and planned to address himself to her grandfather soon. He merely needed some help knowing how to present himself to Miss Parkham’s guardian in the way most conducive to success.

  Topher was in his room, sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard, running a finger along the brim of his hat. He glanced up when Ruth stepped into the doorway then returned his eyes to the hat.

  “You saw her?” Ruth asked.

  He gave a slight nod.

  She crossed over to the bed with a sigh, sitting gently on the edge. “How did she take it?”

  He swallowed. “She didn’t understand,” he said softly. “And what was I to say? I couldn’t explain, for it would…” He trailed off.

  “Undermine Oxley’s suit and expose me.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “She despises me now. Thinks I was toying with her emotions. It’s all I could tell her—that my feelings had changed.”

  “I am terribly sorry, Topher.”

  He looked away. “Kirkhouse is having success, it would seem.”

  “Yes. He hopes to receive permission from Miss Parkham’s guardian.”

  He didn’t respond for a moment, only staring at his hat. “I think I just need some time alone.”

  She nodded, wishing she could say something to ease his pain; wishing that everything was different.

  She was late arriving to Brook Street, and she had to take an extra moment to compose herself before entering. The last thing she needed was to bring a somber mood with her.

  But the moment she saw Oxley and the wide smile she had come to expect from him, her heart plummeted again. Why must he be so captivating? And so utterly out of her reach?

  It was impossible to hold onto such morose feelings in his company, though. To be with Philip Trent was to feel light and full. It was to laugh and be teased. It was to have a friend like none she had ever had.

  It was only when she left him that the weight set in again, that she realized what an impossible tangle she had made for herself—and for Topher.

  Ruth had never been to a London ball.

  Of course, she had imagined attending such events when she had lived at Dunburn. She had wondered if she might find her own love story in such a setting, standing across the set from a gentleman and meeting his gaze with that intensity she had sometimes noticed between men and women in the Pump Room.

  The irony was not lost upon her that the only ball she would ever set foot in, she would attend as a man, and she would do so in the presence of the man she had fallen in love with. She would stand beside him and then stand alone as he left her side to lead other women onto the ballroom floor.

  In an unexpected gesture, Miss Devenish had apparently changed her mind about when she would emerge from her mourning. She wore a blue satin gown that set her eyes on fire and made Ruth clutch at her stomach to dispel the envious ache. She was ravishing. And she showed no timidity as she danced with Oxley. Whatever she had felt upon speaking with Topher, there was no evidence that it had done anything but grant her energy.

  As she looked on, Ruth felt robbed. Of what, she couldn’t say precisely. Of another week with Oxley before he started courting Miss Devenish in earnest, perhaps? He hardly appeared to need her help anymore. There was no hint of awkwardness in the way he looked at Miss Devenish, his mouth stretched in a smile whenever they had the chance to speak during the steps of the dance. He had cleared the hurdle and seemed to be at ease with her now.

  Ruth vowed not to tell Topher what she observed that evening. She would spare him what she herself was forced to watch: Miss Devenish in the highest of spirits, laughing with Lord Oxley as they skipped down the set of a country dance. Her lesson with Oxley on humor had apparently been successful. Success these days came with so much chagrin.

  Oxley returned to her side after the two dances, slightly breathless, cheeks stretched in a large smile. She managed to return it and even offer a speaking glance.

  He took a glass of champagne from the salver of a passing footman and swallowed some. “She has agreed to stand up with me for the waltz as well.”

  “How wonderful,” Ruth said, deciding she would be anywhere but observing when it happened.

  Miss Devenish stepped onto the ballroom floor with Sir Allen, and Ruth glanced at Oxley to look for any signs of jealousy. But he was looking at her, not Miss Devenish.

  “Will you dance?” Oxley asked.

  Ruth’s heart thudded against her chest, and she blinked. She glanced down at her clothing, a stark reminder that his meaning was not what her heart had insisted on believing. He was merely curious if she would be asking anyone to dance.

  “No,” Ruth said, looking toward the ballroom floor as her heart slowed and twinged. “I am here on business, you know.”

  “I hereby release you from that obligation.” Oxley set a hand on her shoulder, extending his champagne glass and making a sweeping motion with it to show the crowds around the ballroom. “Surely there is a woman here who captures your fancy, and I would wager I am acquainted with her family and could easily procure you an introduction.”

  Ruth was hardly aware of what he was saying, so conscious was she of his hand on her shoulder. It gripped her with the force of friendship and fraternity, in stark contrast to the way he would hold Miss Devenish during the waltz.

  “Thank you,” Ruth said. “But I have never been a skilled dancer.” It wasn’t true. She was actually quite a graceful dancer. But not as a man.

  “Then I will keep you company,” he said.

  And he did. And Ruth could no more resist smiling in his company than she cou
ld resist breathing. Until the waltz set began forming on the floor.

  “She is waiting for me,” Oxley said. “Wish me luck.”

  Ruth watched him stride over to Miss Devenish and bow, setting Miss Devenish’s hand on his arm again, their smiles turned toward each other like reflecting mirrors.

  “Mr. Ruth.” Mr. Kirkhouse approached, Miss Parkham on his arm. “We are so pleased to see you here.”

  Miss Parkham smiled and looked up into Mr. Kirkhouse’s eyes through her dark lashes.

  “Good evening to you both,” Ruth said with a genuine smile. Here was a success she could enjoy fully.

  “I wanted to ensure that you received the first introduction to…my affianced wife.”

  Ruth’s jaw dropped open, and she looked between the two of them. “Is it true?”

  Miss Parkham nodded energetically, a becoming blush making her cheeks rosy. “My grandfather agreed just this morning.”

  “What wonderful news!” She tried to be less effusive than she normally would have been, taking care to keep her voice low as she took their hands in hers. “I felicitate both of you with all my heart.”

  “We owe a debt of gratitude to you,” Mr. Kirkhouse said, setting his hand atop Miss Parkham’s and looking at her with a warm smile. “And we hoped to show a measure of it by offering you a new client.”

  Ruth smiled nervously. “I thank you for your thoughtfulness. Truly, it is very kind of you to wish to help me, but I am not taking on any clients at this time.”

  “I understand you wish for anonymity,” said Mr. Kirkhouse. “We have both kept things entirely to ourselves, saving a brief conversation with Miss Munroe, who has promised to be very discreet.”

  Ruth stared. “Miss Munroe?”

  Mr. Kirkhouse and Miss Parkham nodded simultaneously.

  Ruth shut her eyes, nausea swelling inside her. Did no one understand what discretion meant? “I am sure she will be, but unfortunately, I must still decline. I would be happy to send her a letter with the advice from my weekly column if you were to provide me with her direction. And I must beg of you to keep my identity a strict secret.”