A Matchmaking Mismatch (Romance Retold #3)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

R uth’s mood was morose as she arrived back at Upper Brook Street after her ride with Oxley. She felt her own methods working against her—with every minute she spent in Oxley’s company, with every question she asked him and every answer she gave to his questions, she felt cords binding her to him more tightly. But the thought of trying to break free—the knowledge that those cords would snap at some point, whether she wanted them to or not—left her future feeling bleaker than ever.

She went through the door at Upper Brook Street with a sigh on her lips. There was no way but forward. Her heart might be in tatters at the end of all this, but at least her family would be well-provided for. Surely that was worth any sacrifice. It was a goal that transcended her own happiness.

“There you are!” Topher said, his jovial voice at odds with the somber humor she was in. “Were you with Oxley, then?”

“Yes,” she said, tugging off her gloves. “And where are you going?”

“The Park,” he said, plopping his hat atop his head.

“Again?”

He nodded, smiling.

An hour after Topher’s departure, Ruth had cleaned up and was on her way to meet Mr. Kirkhouse at his lodgings. Traipsing about the town unattended had become quite natural to her, and she relished in the freedom, even as she lamented her own lack of respectability and the knowledge that the liberty was only temporary.

Just as Topher had said, Mr. Kirkhouse was a likable fellow. He welcomed Ruth with a flash across his countenance of the same surprise Oxley had shown—but unlike Oxley, Kirkhouse said nothing. He must have trusted Topher—or Mr. Franks, as Ruth had to remind herself to refer to him.

Ruth didn’t know whether to be happy or dismayed when Mr. Kirkhouse revealed that it was Miss Parkham he was in love with. When Ruth admitted that she was slightly acquainted with her by virtue of Miss Devenish, Mr. Kirkhouse’s expression lit up, and he spent the next few minutes enumerating her best qualities. He was captivated by her but a victim to self-doubt. Miss Parkham was widely admired, and Kirkhouse felt undeserving.

Ruth asked him a number of questions to gain a sense of whether Miss Parkham returned his regard, and she felt satisfied that she did indeed do so. She offered him encouragement and advice, eliciting profuse thanks from him as she went on her way. She was genuine in her wishes that he experience success in his suit and invited him to send her a note if he needed any further advice.

W ith less than two weeks until the Walthams’ masquerade, Ruth encouraged Oxley to seek out Miss Devenish as often as he could—within reason. She offered to ride with him to the Park, feeling it would seem a less pointed encounter if they came upon Miss Devenish together. Ruth hoped she might accomplish a few of her own tasks while she was there—discovering whose company Miss Devenish had been keeping and speaking with Miss Parkham to gauge her interest in Mr. Kirkhouse.

To Ruth’s satisfaction, both women—accompanied by Miss Devenish’s mother—were seen walking along the Serpentine River.

“What do you know of Miss Parkham?” Ruth asked of Oxley when they spotted the women.

Oxley glanced at her, the hint of a knowing smile on his lips. “A fair amount. Why do you ask?” He cocked a teasing brow.

Ruth laughed. Oh, the irony of it all. “I was merely curious. She seems to be in company with Miss Devenish every time I see her.”

“Yes, they are cousins, you know. Miss Parkham’s own parents died years ago, and she is the ward of her grandfather. Mrs. Devenish is often tasked with her chaperonage. I believe her parents left her with a tidy sum.”

As they approached the women, Ruth couldn’t help feeling that Miss Parkham was needlessly overshadowed by her cousin. They were both eminently eligible young women, but Miss Devenish seemed to have an edge in both wealth and beauty, besides possessing a more confident demeanor than Miss Parkham. It was little wonder that either of them should be admired by marriageable gentlemen.

Mrs. Devenish was pleased enough to cede her charges to Ruth and Oxley, taking a seat on the nearest bench where she could fulfill her duties with less exertion. After their initial greetings, Ruth deftly captured the attention of Miss Parkham, leaving Miss Devenish to Oxley, determinedly ignoring the little pinch of regret she felt. This was her purpose in Town. She had no other, no matter what her heart would have her believe.

Ruth had only been speaking with Miss Parkham for a matter of minutes when the young woman glanced down the lane which followed the river and began blushing and averting her eyes. A quick look in that direction told Ruth all she needed to know—and brought a silent wave of relief over her. It was Mr. Kirkhouse, approaching in his curricle.

“Ah, it is Mr. Kirkhouse,” Ruth said, waving him down from a dozen yards away. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Miss Parkham said, cheeks infused with pink.

“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 and 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.