Even assuming he could forget his family’s objections to Miss Sophie and his own questions regarding her, there was that massive barrier standing between them.
The happiness of two compared with the happiness of so many was no difficult decision. And it was not as though life with Miss Caswell would be miserable. Or even disagreeable. Content. Oliver had thought such a word quite acceptable just weeks before, but now it felt like a noose around his neck, and it was no one’s fault but his own.
As he sat there, his heart and head waged a war that would only end in a Pyrrhic victory. No matter how he examined the options, Oliver could not foresee a resolution without pain. The choice was between lesser or greater amounts of it.
Today, fate had given him ample reasons why Miss Sophie was unsuitable for him—as if he’d needed more than his own family’s misery over the match. With a sigh, Oliver deflated. He supposed he did need it, for he’d not heeded the warning. And he supposed he ought to be grateful to have this revelation when there was still time to make the right choice.
Shaking aside all else, Oliver strode along the path, firm in his destination. The clearing came sooner than expected and the searing glow of the sun beat down on him as he strode towards his quarry—and ignored the sight of Miss Sophie watching him.
Miss Caswell’s gaze was turned towards the distance, though she smiled and nodded at the other ladies. His shadow fell over her, and it drew her from her daze, her eyes reaching to meet his. A hint of sorrow touched her smile, and her gaze was as troubled as his own. Taking her by her hand, Oliver drew her to her feet, tucked her arm through his, and gave a few trite words of apology to the group for dragging their friend away.
“You looked as though you needed an escape,” he said.
Miss Caswell clung tighter to his arm and her smile turned grateful, though the sadness did not leave her eyes. “It has been a trying day, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Were you subjected to meaningless conversation with pompous windbags?” asked Oliver, slanting a glance in her direction.
She gave a snorting laugh and covered it with a hand. “You haven’t cared for the days’ festivities?”
“I haven’t cared for the company. Luckily, it is quickly improving,” he replied with a smile. “But what has your heart so troubled?”
“Do you ever feel as though your family’s expectations are a physical weight pressing down until you are liable to be crushed beneath them?” she asked with a humorless huff. “I adore them, but at times, it feels as though I do not have a will of my own.”
Steering her away from the others, Oliver led them on a winding course around the clearing. “Families can be a blessing and a curse at times. Though hopefully, more of the former and less of the latter. What are they pestering you about?”
Miss Caswell shook her head and gave a smile, though her tight hold on his arm did not lessen. “I do not wish to speak of sad things at present, Mr. Kingsley. Perhaps we might discuss the lack of education for the poor.”
Despite everything else that had happened today, Oliver let out a barking laugh. “And that is your idea of a happier subject?”
“At present? Yes. For at least I have some hope of it improving.” Her tone was dry, and her smile wry, but a spark of mirth brought a hint of life back to her gaze.
Pulling her to a stop, Oliver turned to face Miss Caswell. “If I might risk a touch of sincerity, I would like to say that should you need a listening ear, I have two that are quite capable and at your service.”
Miss Caswell took in a deep breath and let it out, the vestiges of the tension in her shoulders easing with it. Her smile broadened as she met his gaze. “I know, Mr. Kingsley, and I count your friendship among the most important in my life.”
Though the young lady before him had a way with words, Oliver knew she did not use them without care, and hearing her earnest declaration warmed his heart. Whatever else may be the case, he did not doubt her sincerity.
“And I feel the same, Miss Caswell,” said Oliver, threading her arm through his and continuing their stroll. She leaned heavily on him, but the strain was gone as they regaled each other with the antics they’d witnessed among the party, and Oliver felt as though this moment was a fresh start. A new beginning. Walking arm-in-arm with his bride to be.
This was his future.
Chapter 22
“Won’t you display your prowess with the bow, Mr. Kingsley?” With her quiver slung over her shoulder, Miss Essie Dosett had her bow propped up on the ground, her fingers holding it by the string as she slowly swung it this way and that. Cocking her head to the side, she looked at Oliver from under her lashes with a coy smile lighting her pretty face.
And it was entirely wasted on Oliver Kingsley.
Perhaps if she was in earnest, he might’ve been concerned over her attentions. Unfortunately for her, Oliver found it more humorous than amorous, and he fought to keep his smile polite. When he’d been her age, such flirtations had been welcome, but his heart was far too entangled to find any pleasure in it now.
“Alas, I am no archer,” replied Oliver. “I have no talent or interest in the sport, so you had best seek another.”
“Then perhaps a round of lawn bowls?” Miss Dosett fluttered her eyes in what was likely meant to be an alluring manner. He’d seen such practiced movements fell many young men, but Oliver had never understood the attraction of such artifice. The young lady stepped forward, resting her hand on his arm. “I would love to test my skill against yours.”
Oliver stepped free of her touch. “I do apologize, Miss Dosett, but I fear you’d be better served finding a more engaging partner, and I do not wish to participate in the lawn games this afternoon.”
With that, he strode from the young girl, moving with just enough haste to leave her in no doubt that her efforts were wasted but not enough to bruise her pride. After nearly a fortnight of rejecting her overt flirtations, Oliver had hoped Miss Dosett would grasp his meaning, but he suspected she cared as much about his opinion on the matter as she cared for snaring Mr. Oliver Kingsley. He was no more than a man, and she could not resist the temptation to ensnare him. Or attempt to, at any rate.
At least Miss Miriam did not follow her friend’s lead, for it would be terribly uncomfortable to fend off such advances from the sister of his soon-to-be espoused wife. That could be counted as a blessing.
And while overt, those young ladies’ flirtations held none of the improper invitations of Mrs. Banfield’s. Theirs were nothing more than those of young ladies newly released on society testing their prowess and attraction. Another blessing.
Glancing around the grounds, Oliver searched for a companion, but found Miss Caswell, Lily, and their group engaged in a game of jeu de volant, the young ladies laughing as their battledores swung wide, allowing the shuttlecock to slip by them and fall to the grass. Miss Dosett returned to Miss Miriam’s side, and the other young men gathered around as they took their arrows and bows. The older gentlemen were gathered, likely in the midst of some heated debate, while the matrons were scattered here and there around the lawn.
And none of them held any appeal. Oliver was in no mood for games or debate. He simply wished to quietly enjoy the afternoon and the fine scenery.
Try though he might to ignore it, his eyes pulled him towards Miss Sophie, who was seated away from the others with her nose pressed in a book, thankfully; as she was otherwise occupied, it gave him an added determination to leave her be. His conviction had held strong for the past few days, but it was difficult to avoid temptation when the opportunity was seated before him, calling to him with far more allure than the other diversions.
But then her brother snuck up behind Miss Sophie, his hands moving quickly to snatch the book from her. Oliver was too far to hear their exchange, but Allen snapped the cover shut and shook it at her like a schoolmaster reprimanding a student. Though there was a good-natured smile on the fellow’s face, Oliver couldn’t help but notice that Miss Sophie’s eyes
dimmed, her shoulders drooping. The fellow tossed the book to the ground beside her and strode back to his companions, the other young gentlemen cheering his return as though his presence was the greatest gift they could receive.
Oliver felt Miss Sophie’s bone-deep sigh as she lifted the book once more, flipping through its pages to place her bookmark in its proper place. Clutching it to her chest, she stared out at the others, seeming so very solitary. A part of the gathering, yet apart from it all.
“That was unkind of your brother,” said Oliver, unaware of when he had approached her side.
Glancing up at him, Miss Sophie brushed the words aside with a wave of her hand. “Brothers are made to try their sisters’ patience.”
Oliver took a seat beside her, stretching out on the grass. “I hope I don’t give my sister such trouble.”
“It is a brother’s nature,” she replied, turning her gaze towards the others. “Allen means well.”
The words were kind, and Oliver did not doubt that Miss Sophie believed them, but there was a quality to her tone that whispered of that resigned sigh he’d witnessed before.
“I do hate to see you unhappy, Miss Sophie.” The words came to his lips before Oliver could think better of it, and the young lady’s eyes widened and met his.
“That is a stark assessment of my mood, Mr. Kingsley.”
“It doesn’t make it any less true.”
Miss Sophie’s gaze dropped, her grip on her book relaxing as she rested it on her lap. “Unhappy is too hard a word for it. I know I am blessed, and I am grateful for the life I have.”
“And yet…?” he prodded. When Miss Sophie met his gaze, Oliver gave her a challenging raise of his brow. “Your tone was rife with those unspoken words.”
Giving a wry smile, Miss Sophie shook her head. “There is not a person on earth who has no wants. No life is that perfect.”
“True,” he said with an appreciative nod. “But that is no answer. And yet…?”
Miss Sophie’s brows drew together, and she sucked in her lips, nibbling on the edge as her gaze drifted away from him and to the others’ games and conversations.
“Do you ever feel out of place, Mr. Kingsley?”
The question was hardly more than a whisper, something easily lost among the sounds of frivolity surrounding them. Yet those tentative words struck Oliver with more force than Miss Sophie likely intended and settled into his heart like a physical weight. His shoulder brushed hers, and Miss Sophie’s eyes snapped open to gaze at him while his thoughts sorted through what he might say to drive away the loneliness weighing Miss Sophie down.
“At times, but I doubt that is what you mean,” said Oliver.
“Please, let us speak no more of it,” said Miss Sophie with a shake of her head. “It is only a bit of melancholy nonsense, and I shall be right soon enough. It does no good to dwell on that which I cannot change.”
With a faint smile and a nod at the landscape, she added, “Besides, it is difficult to feel anything but grateful when faced with such beauty.”
Oliver felt his own Avebury Park outshined Hardington Hall, but there was no denying that the Nelsons’ gardens were finer and more expansive. The formal gardens wrapped around the backside of the building and featured everything a floral enthusiast longed to see; even as summer stretched into autumn, they were a riot of color and a testament to their gardener’s skill.
But the view ahead of them was equally grand. Rather than building the home closer to the view they wished to see, the Nelsons’ ancestors had molded the land to be as they wished it. A vast stretch of carefully manicured green stretched out from the gardens and met a pond ringed with trees and shrubbery that was no more natural than the house beside it. Yet knowing that did not diminish its beauty. Especially when the sky could not decide between clouds or clear, blocking out much of the light except for great shafts that peeked through the white, dappling the land in gold. Those ensconced in their lawn games hardly gave it any notice, focusing instead on their scores, while he sat beside Miss Sophie, reveling in its beauty.
Oliver’s eyes drifted to his sister, who stood among the other young ladies. A polite smile was fixed on her face, but the expression was too tight to be natural. Miss Hettie Nelson and Miss Phyllis Thompson batted the shuttlecock between them, and when it flew in Lily’s direction, she swung and missed, eliciting groans from the other two. Then Miss Caswell was there, giving Lily a commiserating smile before teasing the others back into good temper. From his vantage point, Oliver could not hear their conversation, though exuberant snatches drifted towards him from time to time. Lily retrieved the shuttlecock and batted it with her battledore, launching it back into the fray with a brittle laugh.
“Can you tell me what is amiss with my sister? Lily has been sedate ever since the fishing excursion, and I cannot discover the reason for it, but I doubt someone as observant as you has missed the cause.”
Miss Sophie ran her hands over the cover of her book, her eyes drifting far from him. “It is not my secret to reveal. If your sister wishes you to know what has happened, then she will tell you.”
Oliver straightened, his brows pulling tight. “Was someone cruel to her? Tell me what occurred, and I will make it right—”
Miss Sophie grabbed his arm as Oliver moved to rise to his feet and tugged him back.
“Do not make a scene,” she said, her hand resting on his arm for several long moments before she flushed and pulled away. “There is nothing for you to do but be the brother you’ve always been.”
“Surely there must be something more.”
“You speak as though your role as adoring brother is nothing, but I assure you that giving her your love and acceptance is no little thing. She knows you and your parents cherish her, and that will do more than anything else to lift her spirits.”
Oliver held Miss Sophie’s gaze for a long moment, his heart desperate to delve deeper into the mystery rife in her words. He wanted to understand both her and Lily better, but he could not bear to hound the lady when her eyes begged him to leave things be. In the end, the only option was to trust Miss Sophie’s assurances on both fronts.
Giving a nod, Oliver turned his attention back to the party, and the pair lapsed into a comfortable silence. There was no denying the pleasure to be had in a conversation with Miss Sophie, but Oliver was coming to understand that silences could be equally enjoyable. It was peaceful in a manner that Oliver only felt when in the presence of his family, and he could not help but bask in the sentiment.
“I have missed you during my morning excursions.” Miss Sophie’s words were soft enough that Oliver nearly missed them, and when he cast his gaze towards her, her cheeks pinked in response.
Oliver shifted in his seat and attempted to speak lightly. “Surely it is better without my interference. I fear my clomping steps frightened away most of your intended subjects.”
Miss Sophie’s gaze fell to the grass, her fingers fiddling with the blades, and Oliver fought to keep from itching his arms at the guilt skittering along his skin. Four days. Four wasted mornings spent staring out his bedchamber window, knowing exactly where he wanted to be but couldn’t. Interminable hours as he waited for the time to tick by. No matter how strong his convictions, his heart would not let Miss Sophie go.
“I do get more done alone, but it is more enjoyable with you there,” said Miss Sophie, raising her eyes to meet his.
They were the blue of a clear afternoon sky and shone with that sweet heart that beat in her chest. His stomach shifted uneasily at the thought that he’d ever believed her to be anything but the honest creature she was. She was not her mother.
Yet her gaze did hold an invitation. A question. A hope. They held the same sentiments Oliver felt thumping in his chest as his heart reached out for hers, begging him to cast aside reason and take Miss Sophie as his own.
And Oliver straightened as he realized the horrid truth. He had toyed with her affections.
His mother and Lil
y were prone to blazing red cheeks, but Oliver rarely blushed. Yet now, he felt his face heating as his conscience called forth all the condemnation he deserved. Despite the warmth of the summer day, a chill swept through him, making his heart shiver as he realized that he’d behaved like a cad. He was not free to feel anything towards Miss Sophie other than the friendship he had offered her, and seeking her out so constantly gave rise to hopes doomed to be crushed.
Never was there a greater fool than Oliver Kingsley. There were reasons why men and women did not pursue friendships, and the evidence was slapping him in the face now.
He sucked in a breath and spoke before he could think better of it. “I need to apologize, Miss Sophie, for I have acted rashly, and it is clear to me that it isn’t appropriate for me to seek out your company in private as I have. I hope you will forgive me.”
Miss Sophie flinched, a flash of pain lighting her eyes, though she tried to hide it behind an impassive expression. But even without any outward signs, Oliver felt her heartache and knew it was his doing.
“There is nothing to forgive,” she murmured.
“There is…” But words failed him as Oliver struggled to know what to say. What could he say? He ought to leave it all unsaid, but Miss Sophie deserved some explanation. Simply disappearing from her life was cowardly, and she deserved better.
Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, “I know I raised your expectations.” Oliver paused and cringed at that. “I raised both our expectations, and it was cruel of me to do so.”
Sucking in a deep breath, he met her gaze again. “I am not free, Miss Sophie. No matter how I may wish it different. I cannot turn my back on Miss Caswell or my family.”
The breath in her lungs stilled as her eyes filled with sparkling tears. Drawing in her lips, she bit on them and nodded. Clearing her throat, she gave a tight smile and spoke in a strained but conversational tone.
Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love Book 3) Page 15
