Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

A t ten o’clock the next morning, Philip’s valet Nash was helping him dress for the day when a knock sounded upon the door of Philip’s dressing room. He grabbed at his shirt, which lay upon the wooden chair, wondering if perhaps Ruth had decided to come see him instead. She had once seen him in just such a state of half undress, and his heart quickened slightly at the memory. Little had he realized that he was subjecting an innocent young woman to such a sight.

Well, not entirely innocent. She had been deceiving him, after all.

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

Philip laughed his relief—and slight disappointment. It was Finmore.

He nodded at Nash, who opened the door.

“Since when do you pay calls at such an uncivilized hour?” Philip pulled the shirt on over his head, shaking out the sleeves. “Indeed, when are you even awake at this time?”

Finmore smiled and tossed his hat on the chair. “Wish I could say I was turning over a new leaf, but I simply wasn’t patient enough to wait before seeing you.”

Philip scoffed lightly, threading his arms through the holes of the waistcoat Nash held and working at the buttons. “Missed me that much, did you?”

“Heard all the gossip, more like. What’s this about a duel with Munroe?”

Philip’s fingers slowed on the last button. So word was getting around, was it? No doubt Munroe was parading it about that he had taught Henry Ruth a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. Philip only wished he could reveal that, not only had Munroe barely grazed his victim, the victim was, in fact, a young lady. It was hardly the victory Munroe seemed to think it.

Philip wavered over how much to tell Finmore. “Yes.” He waited for Nash to bring a fresh cravat. “You know how Munroe is. He was looking for an excuse to quarrel with Ruth, and he found his opportunity.”

“And you acted for him?” One of Finmore’s brows was raised.

“I did.”

His mouth turned up in one of his signature half-smiles. “I left you very respectable and come home to find you have embroiled yourself in an affair of honor, of all things. I must say, though, I enjoy this new side of you. Tell me, would you act for me?”

Philip chuckled, watching in the mirror as Nash evened the sides of the cloth around his neck. “No.”

“You offend me.” Finmore picked up his hat and sat down on the chair, leaning his back against one armrest and draping a leg over the other. “Why ever not?”

Philip cocked a brow at him through the mirror. “If you were involved, I would have my doubts about it being an affair of honor .”

Finmore laughed. “Touché.” He pulled out a snuff box. “I hear your little Ruth was injured.”

“Barely,” Philip said, ignoring the epithet. The thought of what might have happened to her sent a little shock of fear through him.

“I might have known Munroe was exaggerating.”

“A safe assumption to make.”

Nash reached for the black tailcoat that lay on the clothes press and inspected it another time before holding it up for Philip.

Finmore watched with disinterest. “By the by, did you ever discover who Miss Devenish’s secret lover was?”

Philip frowned. He had forgotten about that rumor. “No, but I begin to think it another creation of the gossipmongers’.”

“Hm. Well, word last night was that the man had rebuffed her.”

Philip felt a niggling irritation as Nash smoothed the coat fabric across Philip’s back and shoulders. “You’re becoming a dead bore, Finmore, what with your neverending stream of gossip.”

Finmore shrugged a careless shoulder and got up from the chair. “Thought you might wish to know.”

Philip shot him a false smile and bowed ironically. “Much obliged to you.”

“How are things going with Miss Devenish?”

“Quite well,” Philip said, feeling a hint of victory at the way Finmore’s brows tugged upward at his response. He didn’t need to know that it was the Swan who had made such a response possible.

“I must ask, what does quite well mean to a man who, the last time I saw him with her, assaulted a woman with half-chewed dessert?”

Philip shot him an annoyed glance. “I am tolerably certain she shall accept my offer, if that tells you anything.”

Finmore raised his brows even higher. “That is certainly more than I expected. Have you kissed her?”

Philip sat down as Nash took out his pair of black and brown leather top boots. “The girl is barely emerging from a year of mourning, Fin.”

He chuckled. “That’s a no if I ever heard one. Perhaps it is for the best, though—it gives you time to acquire some finesse in the art.” He cocked a brow. “Miss Devenish will hardly wish to have the doubtful pleasure of teaching you. A bad kiss can put a quick ending to the most promising of liaisons.”

Philip busied himself with tucking his pantaloons into the top of his boots, hoping it covered the niggling doubt he felt. He had never explicitly told Finmore about his lack of experience with women, but they had been friends long enough that Finmore had put two and two together. He had always excused himself from Finmore’s invitations to accompany him to places of ill-repute, using estate business as an excuse, but he knew Finmore saw through it.

Philip had assumed that, whenever he did kiss a woman, it would come naturally. But the assumption seemed ridiculous now. What about his dealings with women had come naturally?

He stood and dismissed his valet, grateful to know that Nash wouldn’t relay what he had heard.

“Come with me tonight,” Finmore said with a smile. “Let us give the saint some experience.”

Philip hated when Finmore called him that. He wasn’t a saint—just a coward who avoided things he wasn’t good at. The two of them seemed unlikely friends on the surface—a rake and a “saint.” But Finmore did not come from a happy home, and he drowned his problems in entertainment. He embraced where Philip eschewed. Neither of them ever spoke of the motivations for their choices, but Philip had had years to glean an understanding of his friend, and he cared for him, aggravating as Finmore could be. “You are, as always, generous in your offers to corrupt me, Fin, but I must once again decline.”

Finmore shrugged and stood. “Suit yourself.” He grasped Philip by the shoulder. “I shall hope for your sake that Miss Devenish is a patient teacher, for I assure you, it will not be her first kiss.” He strode from the room, leaving Philip to wonder if Finmore spoke from personal experience with her, or if he was merely making an assumption.

He had assumed that Miss Devenish lacked any such experience, just as he did. The thought that he might be wrong was unwelcome.

Was he feeling jealous? He didn’t think so. It felt more like uncertainty—like self-doubt. He had known that his abstention was uncommon among his peers, but he hadn’t worried about that, thinking that at least his naivety would be matched by the woman he married.

He sighed and followed after Finmore, who led them into the breakfast room as though it was his own house. Philip regarded Finmore’s familiarity with uncustomary impatience. He hadn’t planned on lingering over his food. He was anxious to see Ruth.

When Finmore finally left for his own lodgings, Philip watched his departure through the bow window in the morning room then slipped through the door to make the short walk to Upper Brook Street.

Why he hadn’t wished to tell Finmore where he was going, he couldn’t say precisely. The less Finmore knew of Ruth, the better. Finmore could be aggravatingly perceptive at times.