To Catch A Suitor (Dalton Family 2)

thing. I don’t think there’s anything I can do but wait this out with her.”

“But you would tell me if there was anything I could do?” asked Kensworth, his question mirroring Oliver's thoughts as well.

Robert nodded. “Of course.” But he looked tired. No…more than tired, he looked weary.

Normally Hatley was vibrant and alert and always ready to impart wisdom. But just then he looked almost as if he were giving up on something. It troubled Oliver to see the man look so worn down.

Hatley shot the last ball into the pocket, ending the game. Kensworth shook his head, eyeing the billiards table in sad disbelief. “Blast. Hang you, Robert. That’s four times in a row. Can you never show a little mercy on us?”

Robert smirked. “That was mercy. I let you both get a shot in, didn’t I?”

“You are goodness itself,” said Oliver.

Kensworth set down his stick and looked toward the door. “All right, gentlemen. I’m off to find my wife.”

“You’re always off to find your wife,” said Oliver with a smirk as he returned his stick to its holder against the wall.

Robert pretended to whisper at Oliver. “Devilishly clingy, that one.”

Kensworth just laughed and threw his hands up in defeat. “Call me whatever you like. If being married to the most beautiful woman in the world and wishing to spend every spare moment with her means I’m pathetic, so be it.”

Oliver made a sound of disgust. “Just get out of here already and quit spouting poetry at us.”

Kensworth turned and left the room with a chuckle. Hatley poured two drinks from the beverage cart and gestured toward the sitting area. It wasn’t until they were both seated and Oliver had taken his first sip that he realized his mistake.

“I’m surprised you’re not out paying a call to some lovely new debutante,” said Hatley. Blast. Oliver knew better than to allow himself to be caught in a room alone with Robert when there was something weighing on him. Even worse that it was a secret.

“Mmhmm,” said Oliver, taking a sip of his brandy to gain himself a moment to think. Oliver always took small sips, forcing himself to take more time in consuming an alcoholic beverage than was necessary. Knowing what he knew about Frank Turner, Oliver took extravagant precautions when it came to all intoxicating substances. “Just wasn’t feeling quite the thing today.” There. That was noncommittal. There was absolutely nothing in that to allude to his pent-up feelings.

“Really?” Hatley took a sip of his brandy, one leg crossed easily over the other. “And why was that?”

“No reason in particular. It’s simply been a long couple of days, and I—” but then he stopped and looked up at the earl who was studying him with those dark, all-knowing eyes. Oliver chuckled and waved his hand. “Oh, no you don’t! No, no, no.”

Hatley looked amused as he reached in his jacket to pull out his silver snuff box. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” said Oliver, watching Hatley skillfully flick open the snuff box and take a pinch. “I’ve witnessed enough of these conversations between you and Kenny to know that you’re about to drag me into an emotional tunnel and have me spilling my whole budget before I ever know what’s hit me.”

Hatley just chuckled. “I don’t think I do that.”

“Oh, believe me, you do.” Oliver rested his glass on the armrest. “And it almost always starts by you hypnotizing me with that deuced snuff box of yours.” He paused, not wanting to watch Hatley take a bit of snuff but unable to look away. “But really, Hatley, you’ve got to show me how to flick it open like that. Very elegant.”

Hatley laughed. “Some other time. For now, why don’t you tell what’s put that grave look on your face?”

“I don’t have a grave look.”

“You’re not smiling.” What was with everyone suddenly becoming so interested in how often he smiled?

“And that makes it grave?”

“When we are speaking of Oliver Turner, the eternally smiling man, yes.”

Oliver grimaced. “What a weak picture you’ve painted of me.”

Hatley’s brows pulled together with a contemplative look. “You think smiling makes you a weak man?”

Oliver laughed and then pointed to Hatley. “You’re doing it again. Keep your bloody psychology to yourself, Hatley.”

The man shrugged with a smug grin and a silence fell over the room. Neither of them made a move to stand. At first, the silence was comfortable. But after a time, when Oliver’s mind returned to Elizabeth and his father, the silence felt unbearable. And the way Hatley continued to just stare at him, as if he could see Oliver’s thoughts written in the air around him, and knowing it was only a matter of time before Oliver cracked, only added to his discomfort.