A Matchmaking Mismatch (Romance Retold #3)

Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

B reakfast was a quiet affair in Upper Brook Street the morning after the card party, neither Ruth nor Topher being in a talkative mood.

The small party had not been the success Ruth had been hoping for, despite what Lady Tipton had thought. She had too easily recognized the intent behind Miss Devenish’s actions to feel victorious. Her sudden enthusiasm for Philip had been a desperate attempt to goad Topher to react, and it made Ruth feel sick—sick for how the shift in seemingly promising behavior had visibly confused Philip and given him hope; sick for the fact that she was still keeping things from him.

In all fairness, Ruth herself hadn’t discovered what was afoot until it was too late. But what would he say or think if she told him now? It would be another bold line in the list of lies she had told him—one she didn’t think their friendship could recover from.

Perhaps she needed to speak with Miss Devenish—to discover if she could find it in herself to love Philip and put Topher behind her. If she could—and Ruth couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t be able to—then what was the purpose of dredging up a short-lived romance between two incompatible people?

Whatever Miss Devenish’s feelings, Philip deserved to be loved wholeheartedly. And if Ruth could have transferred her own feelings and affection for Philip to Miss Devenish—if Miss Devenish could only see Philip the way Ruth saw him—she would have done it in a heartbeat.

“What other news did you have from home?” Ruth asked, setting aside her unpleasant thoughts.

Topher frowned, swallowing a mouthful of ale. “Not much. You know how little things change in Marsbrooke. The children miss you, of course, but they looked well enough. George was on the mend. And Mama couldn’t keep the smile from her face when I gave her the five pounds from Kirkhouse.”

Ruth smiled wanly. It was little comfort to know what a difference such a sum made to her family. “Did you take the columns I sent with you to the newspaper office?”

He nodded. “Yes, and I meant to tell you last night, but it went straight out of my head when…” He trailed off, brow furrowing. “In any case, when I went to retrieve our post from the newspaper office, Mr. Jolley told me he’d had someone come in asking after the Swan. Seemed to have many questions, from what Jolley said.”

“What? Who?”

Topher shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And you didn’t ask?”

“I did, but the man never gave Jolley his name.”

Ruth sat back with a nervous breath. “I cannot think who it might have been.”

Topher took a bite of toast. “It’s nothing to fret over. Do you not remember the last time a strange fellow came in asking questions?”

Ruth’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she nodded.

Topher chuckled. “Found a copy of your column on the ground in High Street and wanted to meet you in person. It’s a good thing, in fact—more interest means more business. Perhaps we can convince Jolley into paying a bit more every week if we can convince him of the value of the column. Maybe in our next installment, we can offer in-person consultations—take out the go-between and charge more for—”

“No.”

Topher’s brows drew together. “Why not? We could make a great deal more money doing it—not as much as Oxley is paying, to be sure, but certainly more than we receive from the column.”

She shook her head firmly. “Once we leave London, I am done with this sort of thing, Topher. I don’t wish to do it anymore. I never did.” There had been too much deception involved, and it would only bring up painful memories. She didn’t even know how she would go on writing the column, if she was being completely honest.

“Ruth,” Topher said, “the money from Oxley will get us by for a while, but at some point, we will need more. I will apply myself to finding work, of course, but that may take time. And you know we can’t live as we have been, especially not when there is an alternative.”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “When I agreed to come here, you assured me it was for but one hour—and you were to be the one meeting with Philip. And now, three weeks later, you are asking me to continue what my conscience balks at?” She paused. “I want to tell him, Topher.”

“Tell him what?” He looked at her warily.

She met his gaze squarely, though her hands shook at the thought. “I want to tell him about you and Miss Devenish.”

Topher stared at her. “The devil you do!”

“He deserves to know. I told him I wouldn’t keep anything from him anymore.”

Topher shot up from his seat, swearing softly. He paced away from the table, rubbing his forehead. “You cannot, Ruth. There is no reason to! You saw well enough last night. There is nothing between Miss Devenish and me.”

Yes, nothing but a room full of tension. She sighed.

“Be honest with me and with yourself, Ruth. What is truly motivating this desire of yours to tell him? Is it some silly hope that Philip will give up Rebecca and choose you instead?”

Ruth blinked as though he had thrown a jug of water in her face. “No, Topher. It is simply that I have a conscience.”

“Well, perhaps you might sit for a moment and take note of the fact that your conscience is not the only factor to consider.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “By telling him, you put everything at risk that we have worked for. You think he will pay you a cent when he discovers that you have been professing to help him win Rebecca over while your own brother was courting her?”

Ruth swallowed, and the back of her eyes stung.

Topher scoffed. “Even if he didn’t withhold the money, you would likely refuse it anyway . You have had qualms about all of this from the beginning.”

“I have! Little though you cared for them. You cannot put a price on integrity, Topher.”

“Oh, can you not?” He set his fists on the table, across from her. “Allow me to try. What about food? A roof over our heads? Money to make the journey back to our family?”

The bell rang, and Ruth and Topher held eyes for a moment, their faces both red.

“That will be Philip.” Ruth rose and blinked away her tears.

Topher let out a snort. “ Philip . You are not the only one who has made sacrifices or told lies here, Ruth. I told the only woman I have ever loved that I feel nothing for her. Try to remember that when you feel the desire to tell your precious viscount everything. I didn’t sacrifice my own happiness for you to ruin all.” He stormed past her and out of the room.

Philip appeared in the doorway right after, blinking and looking back at Topher. “And good morning to you , Mr. Hawthorn,” he said in a bit of a daze. He looked at Ruth with a commiserative smile. “Still in a sour mood?”

Ruth sighed, but she couldn’t help returning Philip’s smile. “He is not terribly fond of me right now.”

“Ah.” Philip closed the door behind him. “I always suspected he was a fool.” His smile widened, and his gaze wandered to her side. “How is it? Is it healing?”

She nodded. “It hardly bothers me. Have a seat. There is still some breakfast left if you would care for some.”

He sat in the seat right beside hers. “I will take the seat and the food, if you don’t mind. Finmore paid me an unexpected visit this morning and insisted on breakfasting together. The man has the appetite of an ox. Barely left anything for me.” He frowned slightly as he reached for the ale. “He mentioned hearing some rumors.”

Ruth’s heart thumped. “Oh? What sort of rumors?”

Philip took the last piece of toast and set it on his plate. “Well, besides hearing about the duel—Munroe is apparently spreading around that he hurt you grievously—Finmore heard that Miss Devenish was rejected by a gentleman—some secret lover , as he phrased it.” He buttered the toast with a frown. “One never knows what to believe amongst the on-dits that get passed around at a place like Brooks’.”

Ruth forced a small laugh, but guilt was roiling in her stomach. “And does that rumor bother you?” From the way he was serving himself two eggs from the silver platter in front of him, it didn’t seem to be affecting him overmuch.

He shrugged. “I told you from the beginning that this was not a love-match. I don’t require Miss Devenish to fall in love with me—merely to see the sense in marrying. I hope she will respect and admire me and that, as you said, love might grow between us in time. She seemed quite willing last night—more so than ever before, certainly.”

Ruth had half-hoped he had seen through Miss Devenish’s behavior. But she couldn’t help breathing a sigh of ironic relief that he was still set on the match, no matter what Miss Devenish’s feelings were.

She let him eat in peace, taking her time to sip her tea and struggle over her conversation with Topher. No matter what she did, she would harm someone.

Philip finally set his napkin down on the table. “Thank you for that. I feel much better with a full stomach.”

Ruth laughed and set her teacup down. “It would make more sense for me to thank you for the food. It is your uncle’s, after all.”

They both stood and made their way to the drawing room. “What is the lesson for today, then?” he asked.

She glanced at him. “I didn’t have anything particular planned, I’m afraid. I thought I might ask you what you feel you need help with at this point.” He opened the door, and they passed into the drawing room.

“Hm. An excellent question.” They came to stand in the middle of the room as she waited for him to think, and he smiled wryly. “Finmore will have it that I cannot be sure that Miss Devenish will accept me until”—he cleared his throat—“until I have cleared another hurdle.”

“What sort of hurdle?” she said curiously.

He took in a large breath, letting it out in a swift gush. “A kiss.”