Page 6 of The Rules of Courtship
If he had gone through with it, he would have been sacrificing his friendship with Samuel, wouldn’t he? That was unthinkable. How had he convinced himself it was a good idea? He blamed the isolation in this enormous house.
“Is there something you need?” Oliver asked, picking up a second mace and rounding the billiards table. Samuel was his first cousin, but their relationship lingered closer to the boundaries of brothers. They had always been opposites—Samuel a fop where Oliver cared not a whit for what he wore, Samuel bent on marriage while Oliver wanted nothing except to ride. But they cared deeply for one another, and they shared affection for driving curricles. It was enough.
“I have not seen you since church last week,” Samuel said. “Can a man not drop in occasionally to see about the wellbeing of his favorite cousin?”
Oliver eyed the empty glass resting on the edge of the billiards table that had likely held whisky. “Perhaps, unless it is actually the contents of my cellar you’ve come about.”
Samuel gave a boyish grin. “Grandmother hoarded the best. It’s only fair you share your wealth.”
Oliver’s stomach tightened. It was meant in jest, but he worried there was a layer of truth to the words. When Grandmother had died and left everything to Oliver, skipping all three of her children in favor of a grandson, it had been a sore point.He had felt ashamed to receive the entirety of the estate when his cousins were left with nothing.
None of them knew that the estate was deeply in debt, that he’d been given a challenge and not a windfall. He needed three thousand pounds to be free of the bank, but with how slowly his growth had been over the last nine months, he was nowhere near having what he needed.
Oliver’s mother had died in childbirth and he’d been abandoned by his navy-faring father, forcing his grandmother to raise him. She had given up enough for him already. He didn’t understand why she had chosen him to inherit, but he imagined it had something to do with her believing he could save Boone Park from utter ruin. He had devoted every spare moment to the task these last nine months, but progress was painfully slow.
Oliver shook his head and put down the mace. “You can have anything you’d like, Sam, and you know it.”
Samuel hit the final ball and moved to put the mace on the wall rack. “I shouldn’t make light of it. I know it’s been uncomfortable for you.” His eyes glittered against the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. He didn’t know the half of Oliver’s discomfort. “How are you really?”
Oliver ran his fingers over the smooth wood of the billiards table. “I’d be better if we could find my father.”
“Yes, well…I did my best, but I think?—”
“I do not blame you,” Oliver said quickly. Samuel had gone to look for Oliver’s father when Grandmother had taken a turn for the worse. They’d heard the captain had been on leave from the navy and landed in Plymouth, but Samuel had no luck locating him.
Oliver needed to speak of anything else. “I am going to reply favorably to the Rocklin house party. Would you care to go with me?”
Samuel’s gaze flicked to the floor, his brows drawing together. “No, I don’t think I would.”
Should he inform Samuel that Ruth would likely be in attendance? The words were there, on the tip of his tongue, but he said, “Would you like to stay here while I am gone? Watch over the house and land?”
A devilish smile came over Samuel’s golden face. “Watch over your cellars? I’d love to.”
Chapter Three
Rule #3: When terrible news is forthcoming, treat it like an unwanted suitor: avoid at all costs
Mischief was most definitely afoot, andthistime it wasn’t at Ruth’s hands. Her parents had obviously plotted a scheme, and they’d spent the duration of dinner building up the courage to broach the matter with her.
Papa took a large swallow of wine from his glass and eyed his wife, Lady Helena. Dinner that evening had been a long, quiet affair, Ruth’s parents consistently exchanging glances thick with meaning. As the courses progressed, the pregnant air around them grew heavier.
It could not be good if they were so nervous to speak of it.
In the past, when her parents had united like this, it had never boded well. The first time, they’d presented the idea of sending her away to school. She’d balked and convinced them not to continue that line of thinking. The second time, it was to inform her she would attend the Season in Town. She’d agreedand learned that, apart from dancing being somewhat enjoyable, London was too large and full of strangers to be anything but lonely.
What could they want now? To ship her to the Continent in search of a husband? Had Dr. Burnside offered for her and Papa provided his blessing? Had the entire town of Harewood come together and determined Ruth and her rules were a nuisance and she was being ousted?
Calm down, Ruth. There was no sense in being nonsensical. She almost wished her nine-year-old brother, Tom, had not been sent to bed early tonight so he could be here to help divert attention from her.
Papa cleared his throat. Ruth braced herself. “Do you recall Lord Rocklin, Ruth?”
That old viscount with missing teeth and onion breath? Oh, dear. It was worse than she had thought. Her fork hovered above her plate, ready to spear a potato and put it in her mouth should she not wish to speak. Lord Rocklin was old enough to be her father, for heaven’s sake. Surely Papa did not deem him a suitable husband? Ruth knew he was a widower, but he had daughters just younger than her.
His title couldn’t possibly have blinded her parents to his unsuitable age.
“Perhaps this is not the best time,” Lady Helena hedged. She always seemed to know exactly how Ruth was feeling and could likely sense her growing panic. With good reason.
Papa’s mouth tightened. “What better time would there be?”
