“Lizzie and I had a row,” he finally blurted out, immediately put out with himself for allowing Hatley’s hypnosis to succeed.
“A row about what? And if I remember correctly, aren’t disagreements fairly common between you two?” Hatley wasn’t wrong. Elizabeth and Oliver were never afraid to come to cuffs with one another. It’s why their friendship felt so strong.
But when he thought back on the encounter between he and Elizabeth in the back room of Kensworth House, he felt agitated. “This one was different. It was…”
“It was what?”
Oliver’s eyes met Hatley’s. “I don’t know exactly. That’s what bothers me. It was something she said to me. Lizzie seemed to think that I only viewed her as an untamed creature. Someone who could never make a good wife.” He shook his head. “I can’t think why she would imagine such a thing. Or care, even.”
One of Hatley’s brows was lifting, along with the corner of his mouth. “Can’t you?” He paused, as if waiting for Oliver to fill with some obvious revelation. “She’s in love with you, man.”
Oliver sucked in a deep breath right as he had taken a drink and it sent him directly into a coughing fit. After a few moments, he recovered himself from coughing and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head. “Lizzie does not love me.” Or…did she? No. He absolutely could not allow himself to wonder that. Or even believe it. Because if he believed that—oh, blast, no. That made everything so much more complicated. It made staying away from her more difficult. It made not telling her the truth unbearable.
“Would that be so terrible if she did? You two get on quite well together, do you not?” How on earth was the man’s voice so calm? Oliver’s world was spinning and Hatley’s subdued tone simply did not fit.
“It would be terrible,” Oliver said firmly.
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“Why?” Robert asked, undeterred.
Oliver’s nerves felt like bees swarming inside him. He needed to get up. To pace. He shot out of his seat and walked to the window across the room. But that wasn’t nearly enough walking so he paced back. He didn’t want to tell Hatley anything. He wouldn’t tell him anything. Remember, he was a closed book. A locked chest. A— “Because I would manage to hurt her somehow.” Oh, yes. Definitely a locked chest.
Robert leaned forward in his seat. “How are you so certain?”
He wasn’t certain, and that was the problem. It wasn’t as if he had ever been aggressive or spiraled out of control with alcohol before. But still, Frank Turner’s words seemed to creep up his spine like a dangerous spider, ready to bite and inject poison at any moment.
Oliver couldn’t bring himself to tell Robert about his father or the abuse he and his late mother had endured over the years. So instead, he told a version of the truth. “Surely you know my ability to fall in and out of love at the drop of a hat. What if I pursue Lizzie only to fall out of love with her in a few weeks? Our friendship would be ruined. Her family would hate me.” Oliver didn’t even realize that was a real fear until he spoke the words and they resonated deep within him. How was Hatley so blasted good at extracting information?
There was a silence. A long one that left his vulner
able words hanging in the air around him, and leaving him even more exposed. “Or perhaps,” said the earl, “you’ve simply never known true love before.” Oliver slid his eyes from his boots up to meet Hatley’s dark eyes. Hatley leaned back again. “The thing about emotional scars is that they often distort our view of ourselves. Sometimes we think we are seeing our skin, ugly and marred, but really we’re just looking at a scar and don’t realize it.”
“You think I’m scarred?”
“I know you are. We all are, in some way. But our hurts manifest in different areas.”
Oliver let out a short laugh, growing more and more uncomfortable. “And mine manifests in the form of falling in and out of love with women, rapidly?” Stupid. If anything, Oliver’s flighty feelings were simply a fulfillment of Frank Turner’s constant prediction of how worthless Oliver would be to the world. Better if you had never been born, were the actual words his father had used.
Robert shook his head lightly, his confidence and gaze never falling away. “The opposite, actually. I think whatever demons you fight leave you feeling the need to be loved by everyone you meet.”
Oliver sunk back in his chair, realizing that he was coming out the other side of the Hatley emotion tunnel. How had he let this happen? He hated discussing his feelings. He hated the way that his friend’s words felt like a sudden knife to his chest. And he hated the way that hearing the words need to be loved conjured up memories of his father slapping him across the face. He shut his eyes against the memories and the heat he felt building behind his eyes. Oliver stood up.
“You’re wrong this time, Hatley. I’m just a flirt. There’s nothing more to it. No deep underlying pathology. No emotional scars blinding me. I’m just a man who falls in love too much and has too fickle of a heart to form anything lasting. And because of that, I will pretend I never heard what you said about Elizabeth.” And for more reasons that he wasn’t willing to divulge.
He turned on his heels, ready to storm out of the billiards room and leave the earl and his wrongheadedness behind. He wasn’t some weak, jaded man looking for love and acceptance. He could live with being a flirt. He could live with the whisper telling him he would never offer anything of value to the world. But what he could not live with was letting his father’s hand reach him anymore. He refused to believe he was broken or misguided or affected in any way by that man whom he had left behind at Pembroke years ago.
Oliver was in control of his life. He could make sure that he never let himself enter a situation he wouldn’t be able to control. Marriage left too many things to question—and it was not an option. Frank Turner wouldn't control him anymore.
“Oliver,” Hatley’s voice caught him before he left the room. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.” He wouldn’t be coming back to talk to Hatley, though. He’d had quite enough of the earl’s thoughts.
“You think too much of your abilities, Hatley. Stick to the billiards table next time.”
And then he left.
“Everything all right?” asked Rose, coming down the stairs and spotting Oliver before he left out the front door.