by Martha Keyes
“Now what would you do?” Ruth looked at him expectantly. “Try not to overthink it. Just imagine that I am Miss Devenish, and try to focus on how you might convey your intentions without words.”
Try as he might, though, Philip could see none of Miss Devenish before him. How could he, when he could see every speck of black in Ruth’s brown eyes and the delicate curve of her dark lashes? The hair she had combed forward hung down, nearly reaching her eyebrows—the hair she had cut to afford the journey to London, to help her family. It was like seeing her heart on display, and he reached for it, as though by touching it, he might feel her heart.
She was still, her brown eyes looking at him intently. The air between them thickened as his hand hovered at her brow, his heart thumping so powerfully that he could hear it in his ears. His gaze moved to her lips, which parted briefly. He hardly knew what he was doing as he brushed the hair from her forehead then let his hand slide down the length of her warm cheek, bringing his thumb to her mouth and letting it graze her bottom lip and its soft, pink curves—imagining what it would be like to feel the softness against his own mouth, to feel without seeing.
He shut his eyes, and the world went dark, but he could still feel Ruth’s lips under his thumb. He raised his other hand to her cheek and wondered at the way the feel of her both grounded him and erased the trace of anything else in the world.
Slowly—more slowly than he had done anything in his life—he lowered his head, sensing the closing of the distance between them, feeling the warmth of her sweet breath grazing his face, anticipating the moment when their lips would meet.
A swishing of skirts, and cold air filled the space between them, making Philip blink and draw back.
Ruth was turned away from him a few steps away, and her hand covered her mouth. “You will do very well.” Her voice was gravelly, and she cleared her throat.
Philip’s heart was still thrumming, his chest rising high and falling deeply. “I…I…I am sorry.” He had nearly kissed her. He would have, more sure than anything, if she hadn’t…
She forced a smile and raised a hand to stop him, her other hand still pressed to her lips. “Don’t regard it—there is no reason to apologize. You were only following my instructions. You haven’t any reason to worry over your kiss with Miss Devenish.” She let out a laugh, strangely clipped. “I think that is enough for today.”
He nodded quickly, but the mention of kissing Miss Devenish made him frown, feeling almost as abrupt as Ruth’s breaking away. “Yes, of course. Here I am, forcing you to continue with lessons despite your injury.” It was a flimsy excuse. How many times had she assured him that she was fine? But, for the first time, she didn’t counter his words. “I should be going. I believe Alice meant to visit today.”
Ruth quickly raked her fingers back through her hair, arranging it in place. “Give her my regards—and my thanks again for acting as hostess last night.”
“Certainly.” He hesitated then made for the door, the quick beating of his heart still betraying what had happened. He paused again on the threshold. Why was it so difficult for him to leave Ruth without knowing when he would see her next? “Perhaps I shall come tomorrow for that game of chess you promised—after church?” Tomorrow, he would have sorted through this. Whatever it was.
Ruth smiled and nodded, and Philip took his leave.
Ruth stared at the drawing room door as it shut quietly behind Philip. She didn’t move—not until she heard the muffled closing of the door to the street.
Her hand stole to her mouth, brushing at the place on her lips where Philip’s thumb had last touched.
She clenched her eyes shut, as if it might erase the feeling, but his face swam before her. She had let herself be swept up for a moment, certain that he must have been feeling what she was—the electricity that made every inch between them feel a mile too far.
And she might have let it continue—indeed, she thought she might have been too weak to stop herself—had she not opened her eyes for a brief moment. Long enough to see the soft half-moon of his eyelids and to wonder whether, behind them, he was picturing Miss Devenish.
Nausea swam within her at the memory. She had told him to see Miss Devenish in her place. Of course that was what he had been doing. How in the world had she let herself be so carried away by her own silly wishes?
This was not what she came to London for, and only the thought that the Walthams’ masquerade was in three days kept her from ordering Lucy to pack away all of her things so that she and Topher could leave London behind.
She didn’t even want Philip’s two hundred pounds anymore. But she needed it. And the knowledge that it would certainly be three hundred rather than two was no consolation at all.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lucy stretched the length of a cravat in preparation for wrapping it around Ruth’s chest, and Ruth took in a large breath, knowing it would be hours before she could breathe so freely again. She was sick to death of dressing in men’s clothing, and the fact that Philip insisted that she not do so when in his solitary company made his company that much more desirable—if that was even possible.
Nerves made her stomach feel unsteady, and she forced herself to focus on dressing, instead of wondering what Philip had thought after leaving Upper Brook Street the day before.
As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door, and a servant informed her of Lord Oxley’s arrival. Lord Oxley. If only she could think of him as Lord Oxley instead of Philip.
“Show him into the drawing room, and tell him I won’t be more than two minutes.”
She tried to breathe deeply again to steady herself, but the tight cravat prohibited it. She wouldn’t act any differently toward Philip. Yesterday’s scene had been nothing more than another lesson to him, and that’s all she would allow it to be to her.
She set her glasses on her face and made her way to him.
He was standing just shy of the spot where they had nearly kissed, with his back to her, hands clasped behind him, but he turned as she entered, blinking and then letting out a light chuckle. “I wasn’t expecting you to be dressed like that. Silly of me, but this is all getting rather confusing.”
She looked down at her coat and waistcoat. “We go to church, do we not?”
“Yes, yes. Though to be honest, I doubt you would be recognized if you came dressed as a woman—or even without those glasses. They could conceal anyone, I imagine.”
Ruth raised her brows and removed them, walking over and handing them to him. “Let us test the theory.”
His mouth stretched into a smile, and he took the spectacles from her, turning his back to her for a moment.
She smiled as she waited, ready to be amused. He whipped around, hands out to display himself. “Behold, the giant panda.”
Ruth’s face fell. He didn’t look like a fool in them. Somehow he merely looked dignified. “Well, that is hardly fair.” She stepped toward him and pulled the glasses from his face.
“What?” he said, nonplussed, hands still out.
She set them back in their place on her nose. “You don’t do them justice. They aren’t meant to make one look distinguished.”
“That is quite obvious,” he said, giving her chin a little nudge with his hand.
Philip kept his arms crossed over his chest for the duration of Mr. Gibson’s sermon. He had nearly convinced himself that what he had felt with Ruth the day before was merely novelty at work—never had he allowed himself in such a situation, in such proximity to a woman. Undoubtedly he would have felt the same thing if it had been Miss Devenish rather than Ruth.
But in the Trent family pew box, he felt the same palpable awareness of just how much room there was between him and Ruth. For once, he was grateful for her disguise and the barrier it was. But while Mr. Gibson spoke, all Philip could think was how his experience with Ruth the day before was painfully similar to music—to playing all but the final chord of a beautiful song, leaving it maddeningly unresolved.
After he had greeted Miss Devenish and her parents, she peered around him toward Ruth. “You came with Mr. Ruth, then? And Mr. Franks?”
“Not Mr. Franks,” Philip said, feeling his heart regain its normal rhythm.
“Miss Devenish!” Alice scurried over toward them, hands out to welcome Miss Devenish’s, which she freely gave. “How wonderful to see you here! I was hoping I might have the chance to speak with you. Philip and I have been discussing how amusing the card party was the other night, and we thought perhaps you might like to join us for dinner tomorrow. If you are not otherwise engaged, that is?”
Philip glanced at Alice with a slight frown. She had never come the day before, so they hadn’t decided upon anything together. It was like her to take matters into her own hands—something Philip had become used to over the years—but today it bothered him.
The invitation was a pointed one, especially given the superficial acquaintance level between Alice and the Devenishes. There could be little doubt on Miss Devenish’s end what the meaning of it was, and Philip resented his sister’s highhanded ways.
But he was being ridiculous. This was what he had been working toward, after all.
Miss Devenish looked to her mother and father, and Alice hurried to say, “We wish for all of you to come, of course.”
Philip glanced back toward Ruth. She stood alone, but she offered him an encouraging smile when they caught eyes.
“It will be a small affair,” said Alice, “for my husband prefers it, and I thought it would be lovely to have the opportunity to become better acquainted, given the situation.” Her eyes flitted to Philip, and his jaw tensed. She might as well make Miss Devenish an offer on his behalf.
Details were arranged, and Philip bowed civilly as Alice said, “We look forward to welcoming you tomorrow.”
As the Devenishes walked away, Philip turned to his sister, his polite smile fading.
“What?” she said.
“Did you never think to speak with me before extending such an invitation? Or consider that I might be otherwise engaged tomorrow evening?”
“Well, are you?”
He paused, wishing he could say he was. “As it happens, I am not, but you could not have known that.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Of course you would have cried off from another engagement if that had been the case. Naturally, this is far more important than anything else you might do.” She smiled and gave his arm a squeeze, glancing at Miss Devenish. “I knew I could depend upon you to make us proud. Father and Mother would be pleased if they were here, Philip.”
The buzz of conversation filled St. James’s as churchgoers conversed together while Ruth looked on. She still knew so few people in Town, and with Philip engaged in conversation, she felt strangely alone.
He had rushed out of the pew after the sermon, and it had hurt Ruth more than she cared to admit—particularly since his clear destination had been Miss Devenish.
She looked away, chastising herself for ever presuming to put herself in competition with such a paragon. There was no comparison.
The Devenishes broke away from Philip and his sister, only to be addressed by Mr. Gibson, and Miss Devenish’s gaze found Ruth. She excused herself and made her way toward Ruth, but her progress was stopped by Mr. Munroe, who had stepped away from his own circle.
Ruth tensed—she hadn’t even noticed him in the church. It was the first time she had encountered him since the duel.
Miss Devenish smiled civilly and, after a few words with him, offered a small curtsy, leaving the man’s smile to morph into a sneer as his gaze followed her progress toward Ruth. His expression held the same malicious glint as it had that morning at dawn, still with that hint of victory.
Ruth forced herself to look calmer than she felt.
“Mr. Ruth,” Miss Devenish said, putting out a hand for Ruth to grasp. “How good to see you here.” She glanced around curiously. “I thought I saw Mr. Franks with you, too. Was I mistaken?”
Oh dear. “I am afraid you were mistaken. He was unable to join me today.”
“Oh.”
Ruth glanced at Philip, still speaking with his sister, and her heart panged. Did it truly not matter to him whether Miss Devenish loved him or not? She clenched her teeth together. It was time to be more direct. “I was pleased to see you enjoying the card party the other night. You and Lord Oxley made a very good pair.”
Her eyes roved to Philip. “I believe it was only owing to his abilities that we had any success, for I am not skilled at chess, you know.”
Ruth smiled. “He is maddeningly good at whatever he puts his mind to.” She paused a moment, wondering if she would regret her own daring. “May I ask you something impertinent, Miss Devenish? You need not respond if you would rather not, of course.”
Miss Devenish looked at her with a hint of wariness but nodded.
Ruth indicated Miss Devenish’s colorful yellow spencer with a nod of her head. “You have put off your mourning, and I remember you saying when I first met you that you intended to do so in order to free yourself to receive the attentions of a gentleman.” She paused. “Is that gentleman Lord Oxley?”
Miss Devenish swallowed and hesitated then shook her head.
Ruth had anticipated as much. “I see. And what of the gentleman whose attentions you spoke of?”
She looked down, clasping and unclasping her hands. “Nothing. I was mistaken in believing he cared for me as I did for him.”
Ruth hurt for Miss Devenish and longed to reassure her. But the balm would be but temporary. Topher and Miss Devenish weren’t destined to be together. “I am sorry for your pain, Miss Devenish. Do you think it possible that you might be happy with someone else? That you might even come to love someone new?”
Miss Devenish looked at Ruth. “You speak of Lord Oxley, I presume.” She looked toward him. “It is a good match, and I know that my mother wishes for it—and my father too, though he would never tell me as much.”
“And you? What do you wish for?”
Her delicate eyebrows came together. “I cannot have what I wish for. But I can at least give my parents what they desire.”
“I do not think Lord Oxley would wish for you to be unhappy with him, Miss Devenish—to make a martyr of yourself.”
She shook her head. “I am no martyr. Lord Oxley is a good, kind man. I am not in love with him, but nor do I fool myself that he is in love with me. In that way, the match would be equal.” She let out a determined breath. “If he asked me today, I should accept him. There is no reason not to.”
Mr. and Mrs. Devenish came up behind their daughter, and her father set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Shall we go home now, Rebecca? Your mother is feeling fatigued.”
Miss Devenish curtsied to Ruth and bid her goodbye, and Ruth frowned thoughtfully as she watched their departure, pulling her eyes away only as Philip came up beside her.
He let out a large sigh. “I think you have successfully changed me, Ruth. I cannot say I am fully at ease in her company yet, but I haven’t made a colossal blunder in some time, and that is a victory worth celebrating.”
She looked up at him. “I did not come to change you.”
He smiled down at her. “I know. You have merely improved me.”
She swallowed, and he nudged her with an elbow, a teasing light illuminating his dark eyes. “And now, are you ready to be conquered in chess?”
She scoffed, and they made their way toward the door. “I have not improved you that much, surely.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Philip met Ruth’s eyes over the chess board.
“A bold move,” she said, and the smile in her eyes resonated somewhere
inside him.
It also made him question his move.
She lowered her eyes to the board again, searching the remaining figures. Her hair was still styled in the male fashion, but she had shed her masculine garb immediately after their return to Upper Brook Street. Philip half-smiled at the conflicting sight.
The entire situation was incredible—passing a Sunday afternoon alone with a woman. The thought would have scandalized him and struck fear into his heart a few weeks ago.
But he had never felt uneasy in Ruth’s company. Was it because he had met her as a man? Had skipped over the initial and most difficult parts of acquaintance?
She moved a knight three spaces and looked up at him with a cocked brow.
He blinked, refocusing on the board to determine what his next move should be. His eyebrows drew together, and he looked up again. She was biting her lip, and he found himself momentarily distracted again, reminded of how it had felt under his thumb.
“That isn’t possible,” he said, forcing his eyes back to the game. “I was certain I had you.”
“Certainty is absurd, Voltaire once said.” Ruth flicked over Philip’s king and sat back, arms folded across her chest. She had acquired some masculine mannerisms, and Philip found them amusing.
“Another game, then,” he said. “I was distracted.”
She clucked her tongue. “Always with the excuses.”
He sent her a glare, and they set to arranging the pieces for another game. “It is not an excuse. I am sorely regretting that card party the other day, as Alice took it as carte blanche to take charge of my life.”
“What has she done now?”
“As good as offered for Miss Devenish on my behalf.”
Ruth’s head snapped up, and Philip’s smile wavered. The intent look in Ruth’s eyes pinned him in place, and he could have sworn he saw a flash of hurt, but it was followed by a little laugh. “You move too slowly for her.”