“Would you accompany me to the dance at the assembly hall tomorrow?”
It was a public dance, something she rarely attended in Arathe-By-The-Sea, but she wanted to dance with Oliver. Desperately, she wanted to feel herself in his arms and hear the music and enjoy the lights. But, mostly she wanted his hands on her waist.
“Yes,” she said simply, and his pleased smile was a reward in and of itself. She could hardly believe that he seemed to want her so much. That he wanted to dance with her and had sought her out—not just at home, but then followed her to Arathe-By-The Sea. Who was this man? Why was this happening? And why was she starting to want in return?
She still wasn’t sure what she wanted long term and she thought that might be the place to start. When she envisioned her life after these last weeks did she want the same calm future with friends and work? Did she want love? Children? Would that enhance or would it take away from what she wanted?
Oliver handled the reigns perfectly as they met up with the busier afternoon traffic in Arathe-By-The Sea, handing her down early that afternoon, and she went back into the townhouse she was shocked that the time had flown by so quickly. It had been a morning and afternoon that hadn’t smothered her, hadn’t had her glancing at her watch, hadn’t had her wishing she were talking to Antigone or walking with Uncle Bradford. It had, in fact, been perfect.
Chapter Fifteen
“Where have you been, jezebel?” Antigone asked the moment that Venetia set aside her pelisse.
“Antigone,” Venetia heard the shock in her voice. “Oliver somehow found Lady Montrose and persuaded her to let us visit her gardens. He didn’t know…but….Lady Montrose…”
Antigone’s teasing expression faded into shock. “Your Lady Montrose?”
Venetia nodded.
“Oh my…”
Venetia headed into the parlor and broke down. In the safety of her home with her trusted friend she cried in earnest. Not a few tears here and there. But true sobbing. Crying for the child she was, for the goodness of Lady Montrose, for the blessing of Uncle Bradford and Antigone, all of it. Venetia wept into Antigone’s lap.
“Am I going to have to like him too?” Antigone’s question did not demand an answer, and Venetia did not give one. Antigone was protective of herself and her heart, but when she loved, she gave herself fully. And she would love whoever Venetia loved.
“I think you might,” Venetia confessed in a whisper. She heard the baffled tone of her voice, the shock, surprise, delight.
“You’re falling in love aren’t you?” The words were a little too even.
Venetia nodded, helplessly. Anything but the truth was unfair.
“Damn it,” Antigone said. They stared at each other. They’d had so many plans. They had been united against the world and custom. “I am not prepared to love the Duke just because you’ve been infected by Alice’s romantic notions.”
Venetia blinked before she said, “No one expects that. Nothing has changed. Not yet.”
“Oh, Vee,” Antigone said, taking her friend’s hand. “It’s going to. Just like Uncle Bradford said.”
“Antigone Helen Crestwell, you are as necessary to my happiness as Uncle Bradford and magecraft and plants. Even if I do fall in love, it does not mean that we are not united against the world. It just means we’ll have a hanger on.”
“That’s not how it is for Alice.”
Just because Antigone was hiding her fear did not mean that Venetia could not see it.
“It was never going to be the same for Alice as it was for us. Alice…she’s different than you and I and as much as I love her, she is not you.”
“But,” Antigone said, breaking down her veneer. She had a tortured look on her face, and Venetia wanted to brush it away. But friends did not ignore the depths of each other’s hearts.
“Antigone, my friend, I know that you’re worried. I know it. And I can tell you this—any man that I love—will love you too.”
“You can not demand that,” Antigone said, and this time she was the one who sounded haunted.
“It isn't something that I would demand. It’s just…Antigone…you are so much a part of me and my life that I can not image being really and truly in love with someone who does not see and accept that. That would be like loving everything about me but my hands. Love doesn’t work like that.”
They twined fingers and Venetia laid her head on Antigone’s shoulder. They did not try to reassure the other. There was no way that either could be truly at peace without time passing and the evidence of the future. And though Venetia was intrigued by Oliver, and possibly she was in almost love with him. She was not ready to throw her cap to the wind and join their fates. That wouldn’t be something that she could do easily. She was merely ready to think about it.
* * * * *
Rhys said nothing as Oliver returned but the time that had passed was answer enough that he’d been successful. Oliver didn’t need to ask if Rhys had experienced the same. The foul look on his face said that he hadn’t.
“Did you ask her to the dance?” Rhys’s voice was the growl of a werewolf. He leaned forward to pull a cigar from the box next to him and lit it from the candle on the table.
Oliver nodded. He didn’t smile or shake his fist in the air in triumph. He just nodded.
“Do you expect that your female will be accompanied by that appealing shrew?”
Oliver thought for a moment. The women’s scents were combined. Their closeness was evident in the way they spoke without words, the way Hugh said Antigone had been worrying over Venetia. They acted like twins. Even though they’d been born in different realms, to different parents, and different fates—it didn’t matter. They were united. Oliver examined his alpha, realizing that if they were both successful, they’d be spending a lot of time together.
It was a good thing that Rhys was a good alpha, cousin, and friend. Despite the burr in his saddle these days.
Oliver simply nodded and threw his cousin a cigar. Rhys looked as if he needed to be calmed, lit it for Oliver, and threw the flaming thing back. Oliver could smoke a sympathy cigar with his cousin and alpha if that was what was needed. He lit a second cigar off of the first and tossed it back to his cousin.
Family took care of each other. Was there some way to help Rhys? But no…Oliver didn’t need Venetia to tell him that Antigone made her own path. And, he didn’t need Antigone to tell him that Venetia was not secured. If it was even possible to secure a human. Either way, the shrew as Rhys called her, would choose something different simply out of spite if she felt prodded or forced.
“What do I do?” Rhys asked.
Oliver thoroughly examined the Duke before asking, “Are you pursuing her because she runs, because you’re really interested, or is it something else?”
Rhys thought for long moments before he said, “No one says no to me. Ever. Not you. Not Hugh. Not my mother. No one but the shrew. She’s lovely. She’s clever. She’s fun. She loves deeply. She is not intrigued by my position or money. She’s important to those who are important to me. Do I love her? No. Do I want her? Yes.”
“Her and only her?”
“I’ll always regret her if I cannot win her.”
“I suspect that she’d object to that term. People are not prizes, etcetera.”
Rhys snorted and then said, “I suspect she’d object to anything and everything I said or did. The things is…she’d object.”
“So you pursue her because she runs.”
“No, even though that seems to be the truth, it’s not all of it. I can not explain it.”
“You don’t have to. I would say I am on your side, but I am not. I find that I am on Venetia’s side. And I suspect that her answer to you would be something very different from the one I am inclined to give.”
“Your female,” Rhys said, “is as much of a shrew as the one I want. It shocks me that our sweet Alice loves these women so much.”
“Does it,” Hugh asked. He’d been listen
ing so quietly that Oliver hadn’t even noticed him. “I think you mean, my sweet Alice.”
The scent of utter satisfaction that came from Hugh was nauseating. It made Oliver want to beat him a little, just to remind him what it was like to not have everything. Then he remembered Rhys’s situation and said nothing. It looked far too likely that Rhys was going to end up like their poor star-cross cousin Henry and Oliver could but pray he avoided that same boat.
* * * * *
Alice had arrived while Antigone and Venetia dressed. Alice had deliberately gotten ready early to enjoy the other two while they dressed. She found Venetia and Antigone in front of the same dressing table, two servants arranging their hair while they said nothing.
There was so much unsaid in the thick and tense air. Worry on Antigone’s side but the refusal to do anything to add to Venetia’s nerves. Or, Alice assumed her worries about the baby. Still, the tension was ridiculous. She wanted to smack each about their heads. They needed to quit fighting against something that would be so perfect.
Except her own romance was too recent to be able to scold anyone else. She’d run from her love and gotten herself kidnapped—she did not have a leg to stand on and knew it. Even now—the only reason her hands were not scarred was that Rhys had demanded a bevy of the very best healers and made them attend her time and again until there was no sign of what she’d been through. Perhaps that should have been Hugh, but he’d been unable to leave her side. Not so different than now. So far Rhys had dragged two healers to her in the days he’d been in Arathe-By-The-Sea while Hugh had simply dogged her steps.
It was a suffocating sort of love, but Hugh would probably never get over her kidnapping. His worries would fade as time passed or her patience would come to an end. But this was not going to be an eternal state of affairs. She was, however, giving him until the baby was born to calm down. Some time after as well, she thought, but not much longer. She wasn’t feeling suffocated yet. But it was just a matter of time before it was her Hugh she was beating about the head.
She took a deep breath, glanced at her friends, and reminded herself that wisdom came easier when looking back rather than forward. Fears were the great debilitator. And Rhys, at least, was difficult to love. He would never be anything but possessive and protective. He would never be able to not smother the woman he loved in attention. This weird controlled version of him wasn't fooling any of them and there was zero chance that Antigone would love a fake version of Rhys.
Alice was the one who put the pearls in Antigone’s dark hair. She had lovely, deep brunette locks with strands of gold just often enough to make her hair shine. The pearls stood out against that dark sea, and her wide brown eyes, framed by thick lashes were enough to catch any one’s attention. Antigone was, simply, lovely.
Venetia, with her golden hair, was a foil. The two friends were similar in height and build. They carried their heads at the same angle—curious, confident, but not that arrogant angle that so many of the ton had. In Venetia's hair, she wore flowers that she had grown herself, wrapped in magecraft, and had them attached to pins. She looked astoundingly beautiful tonight. There was something free and shining in her. It was, Alice thought, a weight that had fallen away in the last days. She thought that Venetia had been carrying something inside of her so long that no one had realized it was there or how heavy it was. Had Venetia let those weights go? Or just loosened her grasp on them? Either way, whatever change she had made had added a glow to her face, a brighter, freer light in her eyes.
Alice didn’t know if Oliver would be successful in persuading Venetia to love him, but his pursuit of her—no matter the outcome—would change the flavor of Venetia’s life. Perhaps it was simply being wanted. Alice knew that, for her, being wanted was powerful. For so long the only person who expressed interest in her had been the married clergyman of Jenner’s Hollow. When Hugh didn’t just find her worthy of interest but had fallen in love with her, Alice had been unable to believe it was real. Not that she didn’t believe she was lovable. She did. Just as Venetia had enough confidence to believe it of herself. It was more that the need Hugh had for Alice—and Alice alone—made her feel shockingly special. She was one man’s priority. The first person in his heart. It was all she had ever wanted. And she’d wanted it so long it didn’t seem possible that it could have occurred.
* * * * *
Dances like the ones Arathe-By-The-Sea put on were unique. It wasn’t so much that the same rules didn’t apply—for they did—but that because they were so many strangers, dancing and playing together, people just…ignored whichever rules were inconvenient.
It was the reason why Venetia didn’t object when Oliver never brought her back to her party but danced with her the whole evening through. They should have limited themselves to two dances. They didn’t. Venetia wanted to get to know Oliver. She couldn't as well as she needed to in little snatches of time. A millennia was a long time in a society that rarely divorced. One must be certain before such a commitment as marriage.
It was too noisy to talk, and Venetia was grateful. She’d changed her behavior in such a way that having done so was awkward. It was nice to be together without feeling the weight of that with not talking about it.
It didn’t matter. None of that did. Oliver was so clearly not pressuring her, that she wasn’t sure what to think. He had said nothing that referred to the future beyond asking her to meet him for riding the next afternoon. Perhaps, before, when combining their lives was half-joke it had been acceptable to tease. But now…when a relationship was something they were really considering and testing —it was too…sacred…to be the butt of an ill-considered joke.
They were talking about their lives. A near millennia to unite themselves and devote themselves to one another. That wasn’t something you just did without feeling it in your mind and heart. Not when you intended to make such a commitment for love. One just couldn’t be too picky when love was the consideration.
* * * * *
Crowing, Oliver thought, would be an excellent way to be murdered by Rhys and abandoned by Venetia. Was it disturbing that the second fate was more terrifying to Oliver? What would he do if she turned from him in the end? That future was not worth considering. But his empathy for his cousin, Henry, was ever increasing.
Oliver pulled her just a shade closer. He could see into her brilliant eyes. She’d kept them turned from him for much of the evening. Never pulling away or seeming to be inattentive but simply lost in the moments they were sharing.
It was a fate he would not have been allowed in Lyndon where people knew him and his station. Where the matchmaking mamas had an eye on his title and fortune. Where his own mother could stop him from just about anything with a quirk of her perfect brow.
He loved Arathe-By-The-Sea. It was possible he’d be buying a home here too. And Edgefield. One to be close to Malvern and then Arathe-By-The-Sea because it would be the place that Venetia gave him a chance. Should she choose him in the end, they would walk the cobblestone streets arm in arm. They would be able to indulge in the occasional chaste caress because they would be united. They would be able to bring their children to the seashore here and come for the carnivals and the mini-season. He could get his cousins Henry or his brother George to bring their yachts down and take them for a cruise.
It was too loud to talk, but he was concerned that if he stopped dancing with her someone else would sneak her away. She was not entirely unknown here, and he had seen several interested gazes as they’d danced. Interested gazes that had turned sharp when they realized that he was not returning her to her family and friends.
He’d been able to invite her riding in between one dance. And he’d told her a quick story about Rhys in between another. He told her he wanted her to meet his mother and hoped the statement didn't scare her away. Which was when he realized that he was no longer just interested. Or hopeful. He was well and truly in love. He pulled her even closer as the thought rolled through him.
He l
oved Venetia Malvern.
He loved her perfect nose, and the curve of her lips, and her golden curls, but those were nothing. Nothing against the love he felt for someone so loyal, kind, bright, and talented. She was funny and tricksy. She was wounded but valiant. She was…everything.
Chapter Sixteen
The clatter of horses hooves on the pavement faded into soft thumps on the sand. It was so early that businesses were closed and few were on the streets, allowing Venetia and Oliver the chance to let their horses run free. There had been days and days of riding now, and she almost couldn’t imagine returning to mornings where she didn’t get up excited to see him.
They raced down to the sea and then veered to run along it. The wind was on her face, the feel of flying so clear, she felt as if she could touch the sky. When they finally pulled their horses to a halt, she was breathless.
“Have you ever been back to the mortal realm?”
She shook her head and then asked, “Have you gone?”
“A few times.”
The words themselves, said so casually, let her know just how rich he was. A passage through the portals into the mortal realms was very expensive indeed. Few went.
“What is your favorite thing to do?” This was her question as she needed him to be something other than an ennui-ridden bachelor of the ton.
He paused as if surprised he didn’t have a ready answer and then struggled to reply, “To be around the people I love. And tease them.”
Persuaded to Love: A Kendawyn Paranormal Regency Page 13
