He frowned. To say he was let down by the turn in the conversation would be an understatement. “You’re going to help me say the word no?”
“Yes. It’s time you stopped doing everything for every woman in the world. Stand up for yourself. Claim some happiness of your own instead of always seeking it for everyone else.” She squared her shoulders and looked up at him. “Here. Let’s practice. Oliver, I need for you to ride all the way back to London to retrieve my blue shawl and then bring it back here for me.”
He laughed. “That’s a ridiculous request.”
“Yes, well, we must start with the easy ones since you seem to be inept at using the word.” She shifted on her feet and looked fully in his eyes. “Now, come on, take it seriously.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her determination. And he would spend all day learning this word if it meant he got to stay in that closet with the real Elizabeth, smelling her sweet orange scent and staring at those blue eyes. It was selfish, and he needed to let her get back to her courtship with Hastings. But for a moment, he wanted to be selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. “Very well. No, Elizabeth. I’ll not go to London for your shawl.”
She nodded. “Good. Now, Oliver, will you be a dear and go ask the kitchen staff to whip me up a fairy cake before we leave?”
He chuckled. “No.”
“Wash my horse.”
“Not a chance.”
“Give me a thousand pounds.”
“No.”
“Kiss me.” Her eyes locked with his and his heart stopped.
It was a game; he knew that, but his mind couldn’t help but hear the request as genuine. But…ah—it was genuine. She was holding very still but her eyes betrayed her. They always did. Her look was shifting the air. Shifting the rules. Daring him to kiss her. Inching toward the imaginary line and drawing him closer with her.
He couldn’t. Blast he wanted to—but he couldn’t. This whole closet conversation had gotten away from him.
Oliver wouldn't let himself look down at her lips. He tightened his fists at his sides and tried to convince himself that he was making the right decision.
“No, Elizabeth. I won’t kiss you.”
She blinked rapidly and looked away, the spell and the moment broken. She looked around the little closet and then back up at him with the fakest of smiles. “Perfect. I think you’ve gotten the hang of it. I’d better go find the others.” Elizabeth slipped out of the closet and he let her go.
He wasn’t entirely certain what had just happened or how he felt about it. Elizabeth looked…disappointed. Hurt even. But what about Hastings? Hadn’t she been encouraging his suit?
Oliver rubbed his hands over his face and groaned. Everything was too confusing—too out of reach. The obstacles in his mind felt insurmountable. And the chasm between him and Lizzie—growing. His place in everyone’s life had changed. Kensworth didn’t need him anymore. Elizabeth was replacing him. His father was dying. Memories of his mother, fading. And his reasons to visit Dalton Park were dwindling.
Who was he without these people who had given him purpose and identity?
What did he want in life?
Elizabeth.
But he wouldn’t let himself have her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, walking as she was toward Mary’s house. They didn’t live far, but Rose had insisted she take a maid with her. Not because Rose gave a dash about propriety, but because she was afraid if Mary found out Rose had let Elizabeth walk by herself, she would be on the receiving end of quite the dressing down. She was possibly the only person Rose feared in this world. Elizabeth understood the sentiment.
If she was being perfectly honest, Elizabeth didn’t care to see her sister. She still felt angry at her. Pushed aside. Overlooked. If her sister didn’t wish to include her in her life, well, then fine, Elizabeth didn’t want Mary to be a part of her life, either.
Only one, tiny problem…she did wish for Mary to be in her life. And as much as she wanted to make her own decisions and be treated as a grown woman, she also had an invitation in her hand and no idea how to respond to it. Elizabeth w
as going to put all of her feelings aside and ask Mary to make the choice for her.
Elizabeth had entered the breakfast room that morning to a frowning Rose holding the invitation from the Dowager Lady Hastings in her hand. The dowager had put together a little house party—which, thankfully, Elizabeth had already been prepared to learn about from Lord Hastings—and requested their presence. Rose didn’t seem to like the idea too much but refused to make a comment, saying Elizabeth needed to make this choice for herself. Rose seemed to understand the implications of their family being invited to a private house party at the Hastings's estate in the middle of the Season.
And yet another problem; Oliver had left Elizabeth feelings too mixed up to make the choice for herself. It was either accept the invitation, therefore encouraging Lord Hastings and his suit, or come to terms with the fact that she would never love him the way she loved Oliver and decline the invitation, sending him a clear message that their courtship was over.