A Matchmaking Mismatch (Romance Retold #3)

Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-Two

R uth kneaded the dough with her fists, brushing away a hair on her cheek, only to realize she must have imagined the hair. All that was there was flour—and now a sticky piece of dough. That was one benefit of short hair—it didn’t get in the way of cooking and baking.

Mr. Jolley at The Marsbrooke Weekly had been disappointed when Topher had informed him that the Swan would no longer be providing content for the newspaper. He had offered them fifty percent more to continue the column, and Topher had tried to convince Ruth to accept the offer—for the sake of the family—but she hadn’t yielded. She would find another way to contribute to the family’s income—one that didn’t elicit so many painful memories or require her to tell so many lies.

Topher came down the stairs, setting his hat atop his head. “I am off to the barrister’s. Hopefully Mr. Linas will see fit to give me some honest work. He likes me well enough.”

Ruth nodded with a sigh. She knew Topher preferred the adventure of smuggling to what he was seeking now, but like her, he had learned from his time in Town. The last thing their family needed was for Topher to be apprehended by one of the excisemen.

The door opened, and Ellen appeared, arms full of vegetables and potatoes from her trip to the market. Both Ruth and Topher rushed over to relieve her of her burden.

“Thank you,” Ellen said. She set her hands on her hips and caught her breath. “Whose grand carriage is that outside?”

Ruth and Topher shared a confused glance as they set the food on the table.

“It was coming to a stop just as I walked in—I thought perhaps one of you was expecting one of your friends from Town.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Ruth’s heart thumped. No matter how she tried to tame it, it would insist upon hoping.

Ellen bustled to the door and opened it, while Ruth and Topher stared at one another.

“Yes, good day,” said an older male voice. “Is Mr. Hawthorn at home?”

“Just a moment, if you please sir, while I see.”

Topher strode over. “Never mind that, Ellen.”

She moved, allowing Topher to take her place in the doorway, which he did, suddenly going still. “Mr. Devenish. Rebecca.”

Ruth’s eyes widened.

“C-c-come in,” Topher sputtered, opening the door wider.

Mr. Devenish and his daughter stepped into the house, and Ruth was annoyed to feel the heat rising in their cheeks. It was one thing for all of London to know that she and Topher had no money—it was another thing entirely for people to see it with their own eyes.

But the Devenishes’ gazes didn’t rove about the room, they merely traveled to Ruth, and Miss Devenish smiled.

“Miss Hawthorn,” she said, dipping into a small curtsy as her father bowed.

Ruth curtsied in return, aware of how foolish she looked, doing so in a flour-covered apron.

Topher led them into the parlor, and Ruth stared as their backs disappeared and the door shut behind them. A little pang shot through her heart, and she turned back to her dough, aware that Ellen was watching her.

“I am almost finished with this,” Ruth said.

“Leave it to me, miss.” Ellen came over, but Ruth stayed in place.

“No. I want to finish it. I like the work.” There was something satisfying about working the dough. Ruth had offered to do it every day since their return, finding that she felt a little bit more in control of herself afterward. For a while, at least.

“Very well, miss.” Ellen set to cutting vegetables, and Ruth tried not to be curious about the muffled conversation happening in the other room.

It was fifteen minutes before the door to the parlor opened again. Ruth was standing before the fire, where the bread cooked, filling the room with its scent. She turned to see Topher emerge, Miss Devenish trailing behind him. They were holding hands.

Topher’s mouth stretched into a wide smile, and he led Miss Devenish over toward Ruth. “Well, sister. Will you wish me joy?” He looked down at Miss Devenish beside him, and she smiled warmly up at him.

Ruth’s mouth opened as she looked back and forth between them, and Mr. Devenish emerged into the kitchen, a smile on his face, as well.

“We hope to marry as soon as the banns can be read,” Topher said, gaze still trained on Miss Devenish in a way that twisted Ruth’s heart with envy. He finally looked back at Ruth.

“Truly?” she asked, seeking confirmation from Miss Devenish, who nodded and moved closer to Topher.

“Yes. We can marry here in your parish if you wish,” Miss Devenish said to him.

“I will marry you anywhere you choose,” he responded.

Ruth embraced them both—apologizing for her state—and said everything appropriate, until the Devenishes and Topher disappeared outside, arranging details and plans for the next few weeks.

Ruth swallowed as the sound of their joyful voices became muffled and then drowned in the noise of the street. Tears burned in her eyes, and she hurried to turn back to the oven, removing the loaves of bread and sliding them onto the table.

“Miss?” Ellen’s steady chopping slowed.

Ruth wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands and forced a laugh. “Bah! Those onions you are cutting! If you will excuse me…” She avoided Ellen’s eye as she hurried up the stairs and into her room.

She was able to make herself decent by the time Topher called to her through the door to her bedchamber.

“Come in,” she said, straightening a stack of papers on the wobbly desk in hopes that it would appear she had been busy.

He entered slowly, warily, and it made Ruth feel fragile in a way that stung her eyes again. She didn’t want to feel fragile anymore, but she didn’t know how to stop.

She smiled at her brother and motioned him to the chair against the wall, determined to show him the happy face he deserved.

“Well, that was quite unexpected,” she said.

He sat down with a large sigh and a speaking look. “It was. I thought I would never see her again, much less…” He glanced at Ruth again and didn’t finish.

“What happened?” she asked. “I should have asked you after the masquerade, but I thought perhaps you didn’t wish to speak of it.”

“I didn’t.” He shrugged. “She was angry—hurt, you know. She thought that it had all been a sham—that I had used your methods to trick her into falling in love with me, and that, just like everyone else, I only wanted her for her wealth.”

Ruth nodded. “So, what changed?”

“Rowney. He talked to her—told her everything he knew about me. He convinced her that it wasn’t all an act—that I loved her as soon as we spoke, long before I knew anything of her situation.”

“He is a good friend.”

“He is. Despite the fact that I lied to him, too.” He sent Ruth a commiserating grimace. “I know you are trying to be happy for me, Ruth, and I love you for it. But I also know that you are hurting more than you let on, and I wish there was something I could do to change that. It feels unfair that things should happen this way, even if I am grateful for my own good fortune.”

She pulled him up from his chair and embraced him, glad that he was unable to see the way her eyes were filling with tears. It was all they seemed to be good for nowadays. “You mustn’t temper your joy on my account, Topher. I would never wish that. I am so very happy for you.”

He sighed, holding her tightly. “And for our family. It changes everything, you know.” He pulled away. “Rebecca has a kind heart, and she won’t let our family go wanting.”

“You needn’t go to Mr. Linas’s, then?” she teased.

He shook his head. “Rebecca’s father knows someone who might be willing to recommend me for studying law.”

“Well, that is good news, indeed.”

He kept a hand on Ruth’s arm and looked her in the eye. “We shall find someone for you, Ruthie. Don’t despair.” A small commotion sounded downstairs, and the familiar tones of their mother’s voice reached them. “And now I must go speak with Mama. She hasn’t any idea what has happened—and she is meant to accompany me to Rebecca’s tomorrow. Will you mind watching the children for the day?”

Ruth smiled. “Not at all. Now go give her the good news.”

Topher’s mouth broke into a grin, and he hurried from the room, leaving a cloud of joyful dust behind him.