A Matchmaking Mismatch (Romance Retold #3)

Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

P hilip held the solid wood of the pistol butt in his right hand, arm extended and left eye shut. It had been some time since he had come out shooting alone, but he had needed fresh air—and something to shoot.

His eye veered away from his target slightly, landing upon one of the marks in the tree from when he had taught Ruth to shoot. He could remember the way she trembled as he stood behind her—at the time, he had assumed it was fear as she thought on the prospect of the duel. Now he wondered if she hadn’t been feeling the same thing Philip felt now whenever he was near her.

He didn’t doubt that she cared for him the way that he cared for her. He had seen it in her eyes over the chess board the day before, and it had been that realization which had acted like a magnet, pulling him toward her.

Opposites attract . He had heard it before, and it never resonated more than now. For Ruth was his opposite in all the ways that mattered to Society—in all the ways that mattered to someone tasked with improving the Trent legacy. And yet, never had he felt so akin to someone, like finding a piece he had never realized he was missing—a piece of him no one else understood.

He pulled the trigger, and a shot rang out. The ball barreled through a leaf on the old oak tree, breaking it from its stem and sending it fluttering to the ground.

He let the pistol drop to his side.

He knew what his heart wanted. It had taken him some time to recognize it—he had been too fixated on what he should do to see what was happening.

He wanted Ruth.

No, it was more potent than mere and passive wanting. It felt much more like need, like thirst, hunger, or fatigue.

His horse let out a small grunt, and Philip glanced up at the sky, shading his eyes. “I know, old boy. Time to go.”

He still needed to dress for dinner before making his way to Alice’s, and he cringed at the thought. The Devenishes could be in little doubt of what Philip’s intentions were. He was staring duty in the face—unavoidable.

He thumbed the crest of his signet ring and walked toward his horse. How had he gone his entire life—all thirty years—only to fall in love with the very woman he had tasked with helping him win a wife?

That Ruth loved him in return was something he couldn’t bear to reflect on for more than a moment. It was too good to be true—and too far out of reach now that he had finally realized it. She was a better person than he, no matter what Society believed of her. Even the worst thing he knew of her—her deception and lies—betrayed what a good heart she had.

Once home, he dressed quickly and made his way to his sister’s, arriving just as the sun dipped below the top of the townhouses in Catton Street. He slipped inside, deciding against ringing the bell. Jon would be annoyed by such casual treatment of his home, but that only made the choice more inviting. Jon’s self-consequence was becoming unmanageable, and, being above him in rank, Philip was in a unique position to challenge it.

A footman poked his head out from the drawing room at the sound of Philip’s entrance, but, seeing him, offered a bow and ducked back into the room. Muted voices sounded from the room opposite the drawing room, and Philip approached, slowing as it became clear that an argument was taking place.

“Well, you might have asked me before assuming that I had no prior engagements! I cannot tell you how much it grieves me to have to show Lord Bolton such disrespect, only because of some insipid dinner party for the sake of your insufferable brother.”

Philip was frowning at the tone his brother-in-law was using, but a smile pulled his mouth at the last words. It wasn’t the first time he had been called insufferable, and the word had come to feel like less of an insult. Certainly he couldn’t find it in himself to regret that his brother-in-law felt that way about him. The sentiment was entirely mutual.

“I rather thought you would be pleased with me for arranging it.” Alice’s voice held apology and a hint of hurt. “Tonight might well be the final chip falling into place for the match—for Miss Devenish has officially put off mourning, you know, and I think I might persuade Philip to make an offer for her within the week—before anyone else manages to do so. You cannot deny that it is a good match.”

“That may well be, but why we are required to concern ourselves in Oxley’s affairs is beyond me. A man in his position should surely be able to handle such things without the help of a matchmaking sister. I hope you do not expect for me to exert myself on his behalf beyond hosting the party. I have more than enough to think about with the stack of bills I received from the dressmaker today.”

Footsteps approaching the door sounded, and Philip drew back, a frown on his face. He hated the way Sir Jon spoke to Alice. She was certainly not the easiest woman to deal with, but anyone who had spent more than a day in her company knew that she was desperate to please—to exceed expectations. Jon seemed not to appreciate that about his wife.

The door opened, and Jon appeared, stopping short at the sight of Philip. “Oxley,” he said, his brow creasing even more deeply. “I never heard the bell ring.”

Philip conjured the most genial smile he could. “It must be because I never rang it.”

Jon’s lips pinched together in displeasure. “If you will excuse me, I must go dress for dinner.”

Philip inclined his head and watched his brother-in-law take the stairs to his bedchamber. It bothered him that Jon thought him incompetent—that he recognized that Philip required assistance in his efforts to marry. But he would far rather Jon believe that Alice was the one providing that assistance than for him to know of the Swan. The scorn that knowledge would generate….

He stepped into the sitting room, just in time to see Alice wipe a tear from her cheek. The sight tugged at his heart. He remembered when Alice had accepted Jon’s offer—she had put on a smile, never admitting how it cost her to give up the future she had hoped for with Mr. Vickers. She had reassured Philip she agreed with their father that it was a much more fitting match. “Sir Jon is kind, you know,” she had said. “And I think that I shall be happy with him, for I have always had such a streak of vanity that, no matter what I do, will not be overcome, and Sir Jon has promised me that I shall want for nothing with him.”

Well. That promise seemed to have fallen flat. Alice would not otherwise have been shedding tears.

“Philip,” she said, rising from her chair with a determined smile that twisted Philip’s heart as much as her tears had.

If he and Miss Devenish married, would they be thus in five years? In a decade?

“I am glad you have arrived early,” Alice said, “for I wished to discuss the plan for the evening before the Devenishes arrive.” She took him by the arm, leading him out into the hall. “I think I might arrange for you and Miss Devenish to have a few minutes alone this evening after dinner. Jon and I will engage to speak with her mother and father, and you can perhaps take her for some air in the small courtyard—I have instructed that it be lit this evening, and you will be quite private there”—she pressed her lips together, though the hint of a smile peeked through—“just in case you wish to steal a few moments.” She raised her brows to make her meaning clear.

Ruth’s face flashed before Philip, chin upturned, lips parted invitingly, arc of dark eyelashes resting against her smooth skin.

“That will not be necessary, Alice, but thank you.”

“What do you mean? Of course it is not necessary, but I assure you, I am not so prudish that I begrudge you such a little pleasure, and I rather think that it would be preferable that she know of your intent to speak with her father before you go about it—"

He put up a hand. “I thank you again for your desire to help, but I would rather you leave it to me to arrange things. The situation is more delicate than you realize.”

“Delicate? How do you mean?”

How could he explain it to her? He couldn’t. Ruth’s reputation was at stake, and besides, Alice wouldn’t understand. “I merely mean to say that I am not prepared to offer for Miss Devenish just yet.”

Alice blinked at him.

“I may have been hasty in telling you of my plans before I well knew what I wanted.”

“You…you mean you do not intend to offer for Miss Devenish? Philip, you cannot be serious! What in the world do you imagine she and her family expect after an evening such as tonight?”

“An evening I had no part in planning, you may remember.”

Her mouth dropped open, and displeasure darkened her brow. “I cannot do anything right, can I?” Her nostrils flared. “And who, may I ask, do you intend to offer for if not for Miss Devenish? Who do you imagine to be her superior—more fit to take her place at Oxley Court?”

Philip gripped his lips together, unsure how to answer her question. “I am more interested in answering the question of who is fit to take the place by my side—as my wife.”

Wariness entered her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “that all this time, I have been looking for the Viscountess Oxley, when I should have been looking for my wife.”

Her eyes widened. “You are going to ruin us, aren’t you?”

Philip scoffed and looked away. “Please. You are the wife of Sir Jon Tipton and the daughter of a viscount—positions that put you well above reproach.”

Alice grabbed his arm. “Yes, I am the wife of Sir Jon Tipton, and I did not become such so that you could make a mockery of my sacrifice by marrying some nobody!”

Philip looked down into her eyes where anger flamed. “I never asked you to make that sacrifice, Alice. And were it not for Anne and Mary, I might wish that you hadn’t done so. But I could never wish them away, and I know you could not either.”

She held his gaze, her eyes watering as the bell rang. She released his arm and backed away, finally turning toward the door, where she stopped for a moment, her shoulders rising with a deep, steadying breath. Then she opened the door and disappeared.

Philip shut his eyes in consternation. He had hoped to comfort Alice, but he felt no better than Jon now.

Perhaps he was still being rash. He and Miss Devenish needn’t end up like Jon and Alice. Had Ruth not said that what mattered most was the choice to love—made daily? And yet, how could he trust that Miss Devenish would make that choice? The one woman in the world with the most reason to love Philip—his own mother—had been so hot and cold toward him. Why should he expect better from someone who didn’t love him?

He fiddled with his signet ring again. He had tried it on once when he was only eight or nine years old, on one of the rare occasions when his father removed it for cleaning. It had dwarfed even Philip’s thumb, hanging loosely, a large void between it and his finger. It had seemed impossible then that he would ever be big enough or old enough for it to fit.

Now that it did, he found it uncomfortably tight, as if he had not only grown into it but also outgrown it.

Luctor et emergo. I struggle and emerge. That was the inscription inside.

Philip certainly struggled. But he had no idea how to emerge or what he would be when he did.

F or a woman on the verge of contracting a brilliant match, Miss Devenish showed little sign of excitement—nor any of the willingness she had shown at the card party just a few days since.

“She can feel your hesitancy,” Alice breathed at Philip during dinner.

But Philip was going out of his way to be courteous. In a final effort to see whether he had not perhaps fooled himself into thinking himself in love with Ruth, he did his best to open himself up to the prospect of marriage to Miss Devenish. He addressed himself to her throughout dinner, asking her questions, trying to make her smile. And smile she did. But there was no warmth in it. Only politeness. When he put a hand on her back to make a quiet remark to her, she stiffened slightly.

He wondered at it, but he couldn’t help feel a bit of relief. Surely she would not have reacted so if she welcomed his attentions.

And the gesture felt wrong to Philip—like a betrayal of himself and Ruth. It was unnatural, sharply contrasted against the way he had felt drawn toward Ruth the day before, as though their hands, their faces, their souls were meant to touch.

“Miss Devenish,” Alice said once the men had rejoined the women in the drawing room. “You look a bit flushed. Philip, why don’t you show her out onto the terrace for a bit of fresh air? I do think it is cooler outside than it is inside.” She shot him a significant look.

What Alice expected to happen during the short jaunt outdoors after what he had said to her in the sitting room, Philip hardly knew, but he was grateful for the opportunity to speak to Miss Devenish in private. He needed to understand what precisely was going on.

He offered her his arm and led her toward the two doors on the far wall of the drawing room, which opened onto one of the larger terraces offered by the houses in Town. Torches illuminated the small garden below.

Miss Devenish unfurled her fan, waving it lightly in the air. “It does feel pleasant out here, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Philip said sardonically. “I believe my sister lit a few fires in the house to ensure it would be cooler out here. I was glad at my sister’s contrivance, though, for I have been wishing to speak with you in private.”

Miss Devenish glanced up at him, a wary light in her eyes.

It gave Philip the necessary confidence to be blunt. “I tend to dislike gossip, but I hope you will forgive me for addressing it in this instance, as I find myself feeling a desire to understand—and a suspicion that there is more truth than I previously supposed in what I have heard.”

She looked at him, a questioning frown in her eyes. “What is it?”

He opened his mouth then shut it, directing an evaluative gaze at her as he tried to decide how to proceed. “Are you in love with someone?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and she averted her gaze. “That is not what I was expecting.”

“I apologize for my forwardness, but I think it will serve us both better than the alternative. You can be fully honest with me, Miss Devenish, I assure you.”

She played with the hem of her dress. “I am. Or was, rather.”

“You were ?”

She looked up to meet his eye. “I cannot tell, to be honest. At times I feel more in love with him than ever. Other times, I feel the greatest rage imaginable and regret that we ever met.” She smiled sadly.

Philip frowned, watching the flickering of the torch light that illuminated only one side of Miss Devenish’s face. “I see. Allow me to be even more frank still, and I hope you will oblige me by returning the favor. Do you have a desire to marry me?”

She went still, her eyes still trained on him. “I am not certain how to answer that, my lord. Sometimes, I think I should be very content with you, while at others, I think I wish to never marry at all.”

He nodded. “And which of those do you feel today?”

She bit her lip.

“You can be honest. I will not take offense.”

She nodded. “The latter. It is nothing against you. You are very kind and good, and I am certain that you and everyone else shall think me fit only for Bedlam when I say it, but having tasted love, I cannot find it within me to marry for any other reason.”

He took her hand in his, offering a sympathetic smile. “I understand perfectly.”

“You do?”

“I do. And I would never wish for you to feel compelled into a marriage you cannot enter with your mind and heart.”

She smiled up at him with a hint of sadness. “Nor I you.”

Philip glanced at the doors. “What of your parents? I fear they have come to expect a match between us, and I would hate for this to cause any problems—"

She shook her head, and he let her hand drop. “I am fortunate in my parents. They have certainly come to expect an agreement between us, but only because I gave them reason to believe it was what I wanted. They merely wish for me to be happy.”

“You are fortunate,” Philip said, a sense of envy stinging inside. He let out a large breath and smiled. “Well, then. We do have an agreement—just a different one from what others have come to expect.” He put out a hand for a handshake, and she laughed lightly.

“We have an agreement.”