Page 59 of The Rules of Courtship
When she returned to the stables, she found Oliver standing at Rosaline’s stall, his arms crossed over the gate and his head bent, resting upon his folded arms. The sight was harrowing enough to cause her steps to falter. His body bent in anguish, grief curving him in on himself.
“Oliver?” she asked.
He straightened, putting his hat on his head. “Are you ready?”
“Oliver,” she repeated, coming closer. “You are clearly troubled. We need not ride today.”
“On the contrary. A ride is precisely what I need.”
She hesitated. Was he here in search of more distraction? It further solidified her need to break their false engagement before it could spiral out of their control. “I feel it important to disabuse you of the notion that you need to save me. I need no saving. We will remain friends. I can accept the responsibility and consequences of my actions, and I feel capable of weathering any resulting storms.”
His jaw worked as she gave her speech. “Are you quite finished trying to sacrifice yourself, Ruth?”
“It is not a sacrifice to give you freedom. I stand by my words. Our friendship will remain intact.”
He did not reply immediately, instead stepping forward and bringing a fresh wave of cedar and citrus, pushing out the pungent smell of horses and making her knees weak. The smell took her back to the moonlit garden immediately, transporting her as if by magic. She could feel the ghost of his fingertips on her skin, his hands expertly cradling her head, and yearned to feel it again.
Drawing in a quick breath, she took a step back.
Oliver shook his head. “Shall we ride now?”
“We need to discuss this.”
“We can do so just as easily far away from here,” he countered.
He was right. The grooms could be listening. Ruth nodded, watching him step aside to allow her into Rosaline’s stall. The horse was happy to see her, already saddled and waiting. Rosaline tossed her head, then nuzzled Ruth’s neck, huffing hot breath on the open skin at her nape.
They were seated and riding away from Willowbrook House minutes later, the wind whipping over her face. Ruth breathed in deeply, directing her horse toward the familiar hedge she liked to jump. Oliver had accompanied her enough times to know the aim of her direction, and he patiently followed. A rush of adrenaline flowed through her body after Rosaline soared through the air and her hooves hit the ground. Ruth’s chest heaved from the exercise, and she looked over her shoulder to find Oliver had jumped it after her, bringing his horse easily to her side.
“That was incredible,” she said.
“You are a skilled horsewoman.”
“In that, we are well matched.” Ruth immediately regretted the words. They would not be matched for long. She swallowed, pulling at Rosaline to direct her toward Oliver, though she faced him now. Their knees would nearly be brushing if both of her legs were not on the other side of the horse, but she twisted her waist to see him. “May we speak plainly now? I do not intend to hold you to the engagement. We can find a way to lessen the damage, surely.”
“Is that what you prefer?”
“I prefer not to marry a man who finds the notion unpalatable.”
“Unpalat—gads, Ruth. You were in the garden, too. How can you possibly think that of me?”
“I did not say you did not enjoy the kiss,” she said evenly,ignoring the heat rising up her neck. “Only that a marriage is not necessary.”
He searched her face, his eyebrows drawing together. “I see.”
“One can certainly enjoy kissing a person without wishing to lash their lives together. Marriage is…permanent.”
“It is,” he agreed.
“Then we are of the same mind.”
Oliver did not reply. He looked past her, toward the field that skirted his land. They had ridden so far now they were nearer to Boone Park than they were Willowbrook. “If that is what you want, I will accept it.”
Disappointment settled low in her gut. It was not at all what she wanted, but she understood it was how things would work. “My father must still be informed. He will likely be able to help us find a way to smoothly break the engagement. By now, word will have already begun to spread, so we must be mindful of how we proceed.”
“In that, we might have more time than you think.” Oliver looked again toward Boone Park before settling a rueful smile on her. His horse took a restless step away, but he got him under control. “My father has returned already, and Dr. Burnside has been to see him. It seems we do not have long.”
“Oh, Oliver,” she said, reaching for him out of impulse. Their horses were far too distanced, and the space between her hand and him left an unsatisfying clawing in her chest.
