To Catch A Suitor (Dalton Family 2)

“You told me yourself you thought they were fantastic.” She changed her voice on that last word and blinked her eyes as if he always spoke in a nasally, obnoxious voice when he discussed other women.

“I meant it in a frightening way. As in—they are so fantastic they haunt my dreams. I fear for my life when she blinks at me. How in the world could you ever believe I would be in love with that woman?”

She looked down and shuffled her feet, lightly kicking his boot in the process. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because you have flirted with her constantly.”

“You’re one to talk,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He smiled down at her, resisting the urge to tip her chin back up to him. “Were you perhaps…a little jealous when you thought I loved Miss Barley?”

Elizabeth’s eyes snapped to him. “Absolutely not. That’s ridiculous. I was only confused by all of the attention you give her and wanted to know for sure.”

“Mhmm.” She was jealous.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face!” said Elizabeth. Her heated cheeks and obstinate refusal were having the same effect on him as the champagne had on her. He was drunk off of hope and the inebriation was numbing his better judgment.

“You were jealous.”

“I want to slap you. Or step on your toes. Or both.”

He leaned down a little closer to her, narrowing an eye and whispering as if it were a great secret. “Exactly which part made you the most jealous?”

“This is absurd. I’m leaving.” She turned toward the door but he caught her arm before she could take another step.

“I’m only teasing, Lizzie.” He had yet to let go of her arm. He should. But his hand wouldn’t move.

He followed her gaze down to his hand resting on the side of her arm—chill bumps running like a wave over her skin—before she looked back up at him. “You’ve broken two of our rules now,” she said quietly, a slight tremble to her voice.

He wanted to break a few more. What had gotten into him? This wasn’t good. He could feel his resolve wavering and he needed to let Elizabeth go. But the sight of her and Lord Hastings was tearing him up inside.

“What are rules if not made to be broken?”

She didn’t smile. Her gaze challenged him. “Why are we in here, Oliver?”

“Because…” his hand trailed down her arm until his hand clasped hers, lacing their fingers together in a way that was intimate and daring and honest. “You ate cucumbers.”

He didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until it all released in a puff of disappointment. She yanked her hand from his and crossed her arms in front of her. She was back to prickly Elizabeth. “I knew you would not let that go. It was only a few cucumbers, Oliver. Hardly a reason to get your petticoats in a tangle.”

“There was more than just cucumbers and we both know it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure to what you are referring.”

“Ah—we are going to play the ignorant game, are we? Then allow me to enlighten you.” He gestured toward her outfit. “For starters, I know that you cannot enjoy wearing that color.”

She raised her chin defiantly. “There is nothing wrong with this color.”

“No, there’s not. And you look stunning in it, might I add. But I happen to know that bright colors make you feel ostentatious in the worst sort of way. Am I wrong?”

She looked at him as if she wanted nothing more than to argue, or strangle him, or kiss him but couldn’t. He wouldn’t mind one of those things.

“I thought so,” he continued. “And earlier today when Hastings stated that taking a carriage would have been much more enjoyable, you agreed as if your life depended on it, when I know that you would have hated taking a carriage above all things. Not only does your stomach feel weak in closed carriages, but you despise being deprived of the sun and wind in your hair.”

She pursed her lips together and looked down to her folded arms, her dark lashes fanning against her cheeks. Oliver lowered his voice and inched even closer. He was taking liberties but he couldn’t bring himself to care ju

st then.

Taking her chin gently in his hand, he tilted it up to look her full in the eyes. “What I want to know, Lizzie, is why you have not been honest with Lord Hastings today?”