To Catch A Suitor (Dalton Family 2)

Elizabeth reached the top of the first floor landing just as Jeffers opened the front door and Lord Hastings stepped inside.

The carriage was pulling down the front lane of Dalton Park. Elizabeth knew because she had spotted it from the window where she had been keeping watch the past hour. She shot out of the window seat, her book landing on the floor with a hard thunk before she rushed from her bedchamber to the stairs.

Her breath was racing and anyone who saw her would think her mad. But Elizabeth didn’t mind. Oliver was finally here and it was summer, her favorite time of year. Not necessarily because of the weather—although the warm sunshine certainly didn’t detract from her admirations—but because it meant she would have a whole month with her favorite person in the world.

Elizabeth reached the landing where she had waited for Oliver to step through the

door every summer for the last eight years. Would Carver be with him this year? Her heart still ached for her brother and the grief he wrestled with.

There was a loud knock on the door and Elizabeth’s heart echoed its beat. Her hand gripped the oak banister as Henley opened the door. And then there he was. Oliver Turner stepped inside with a bright smile on his face that made Elizabeth’s stomach tie into wonderful knots.

He didn’t know it, but she loved him.

Last summer had felt like magic. Oliver hadn't declared himself, but something in the way he had treated her was different from every other summer. It was as if he had finally seen her for who she truly was. And now he was back, and hope flickered in her chest.

She waited, holding her breath for the moment she loved more than anything. The moment that had been repeated at the start of every summer since the first day Oliver joined Carver at Dalton Park.

And then it happened. Oliver handed his hat and gloves to Henley, and then with such determination—such certainty and assurance—he turned his sea blue eyes up to Elizabeth like he never doubted for one moment that that was where he would find her waiting for him. Like he had been anticipating this moment just as much as she had.

He smiled fully and raised his hand to her.

Elizabeth smiled back—every part of her aching to be loved by this man, knowing that no one else would ever fill her with as much joy and sparks and excitement as Oliver Turner.

Elizabeth waited there at the top of the stairs. For some reason, her feet would not move from that place. She didn’t want to admit what she was waiting there for as she watched Rose enter the foyer and greet Lord Hastings. She gripped the railing—watching, waiting, hoping.

Nothing.

He didn’t see her. He didn’t sense her the way Oliver always seemed to.

Elizabeth cleared the lump from her throat and made her way down the stairs. It was unfair of her to hope for something that Lord Hastings had no way of knowing was important to her.

“Lady Elizabeth,” said Lord Hastings with a small bow and a warm smile as she approached. “Good morning. You look well.”

Well. He never said she looked beautiful or enchanting. He always thought she looked well. Oh, heavens. Now she was being completely absurd. What did she expect? For Lord Hastings to perform one of Lord Byron’s poems to her in the middle of the foyer in front of Jeffers and Rose? She was being unfair and it needed to stop.

Elizabeth smiled what she hoped was her most encouraging smile and curtsied. Seeing him again, dressed in his golden waistcoat and black riding jacket, she was honestly able to say that she found him very handsome. His eyes were a deep green and put her in mind of a forest at dusk. He didn’t smile overly much, but she could tell by the lines around his eyes that he did laugh from time to time. Perhaps she could bring out the laughter in him more often.

“Do you have everything you need?” asked Rose, with a smile that was tender and supportive, but Elizabeth knew Rose well enough now to see that there was more behind it.

“I believe so.” Elizabeth turned to the viscount. “Lord Hastings, would you give me a moment to speak privately with my sister-in-law before we set out?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll only be a moment.”

“Take your time.” He bowed again and turned to walk outside. He really was a kind soul. She could certainly do much worse than Lord Hastings.

“What is it?” Rose asked the moment the door shut behind the viscount.

“That’s the very question I was going to ask you.”

Rose blinked—her face otherwise unreadable. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You gave me your false polite smile. Why?”

Rose’s eyebrows twitched together for the briefest of seconds. “I think you’re reading too much into my demeanor.”

“That’s what you’d like for me to think. But like it or not, Rose Ashburn, Countess of Kensworth, I know you now. And I know that you are hiding something from me and that it must have something to do with Lord Hastings. Do you not approve of him?”