To Catch A Suitor (Dalton Family 2)

“No. I think it’s a wise choice.”

This time it was he who pulled away to look at her. “You do? You don’t think it’s a bit…cowardly of me to want to run as far away from the place as possible?”

She smiled softly and reached up to touch the side of his face—something she had most definitely never done before. She ran her thumb back and forth against his jaw, tracing the movement with her eyes. “I would never think you a coward for taking care of yourself, Oliver.”

His gaze dropped to her lips. This was not a spontaneous thought to kiss her. It was something that had been lurking and taunting him for years. But seeing her here on Hastings's property and knowing that, very soon—he woul

d not have a right to hold her as he was or talk to her intimately like they always had or entertain the idea of kissing her—well, all of those thoughts were begging him to put all of his fears aside and embrace his desire.

And he might have, if she hadn’t tensed up and dropped her gaze toward the ground. “I must go,” she said with a cold tone. What had he done? He could have sworn she wanted him to kiss her only a moment ago.

Or…perhaps she really did have feelings for Hastings. That thought tore at him.

Either way, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing he had upset her. “Lizzie, have I upset you?”

“No,” she said, pulling out of his arms and most certainly looking upset. She started to walk away, but then turned back sharply. “I’m here for Lord Hastings.” She threw the words at him like a dagger.

“I know.”

Determination hung in her eyes, and her hands were fisted at her sides, gloves straining against the tightness. “He’s asked Carver for permission to marry me.”

Oliver blinked. “I see.”

“And…you should know, I’ve made up my mind about it, and I’m going to accept his offer when he proposes.”

Oliver’s legs felt weak. Those words shouldn’t have come as such a shock for him. It’s what he’d been planning for and convincing himself was the right thing for her for years. Hastings could love her better than he could. Offer her more. But all he could seem to think of was how Hastings didn’t know that Elizabeth despised cucumbers, and read romance novels ironically, and sometimes fell asleep outside under a tree on warm days and would need to be awakened before the sun burned her skin.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Then why didn’t she look happy? “And this”—she gestured in the air between them—“what we are…must change. I have to make room in my life for Wesley.” Wesley. Oliver had never hated a name more.

“I understand.”

She rubbed her lips together, blinking as she nodded mutely. They had always known this day would come. Their friendship must change. He found a small comfort in the fact that it was evidently just as difficult for her as it was for him.

“Good day, Oliver.” She curtsied, turned, and began walking away. He watched as she froze again after taking two steps. She whirled around, a new determined and inquisitive look on her face. She opened her mouth but hesitated a moment before she finally asked, “W-why do you smell so good today?”

He nearly laughed from this sudden change in topic as well as the serious knit of her brows. He couldn’t resist a smile as he used his tongue to push the mint leaf forward to bite between his front teeth. “Mint. From the garden outside Pembroke.”

She eyed his mouth for one long moment, and if he wasn’t mistaken—he saw a great deal of longing. Did she ever give Hastings that look?

“Thought so,” she said, sounding utterly put out by that mint leaf. Elizabeth turned around again and stomped off in the direction of Addington Hall, leaving Oliver more confused than ever.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Oliver shoved his hands through his hair and leaned his elbows against the desk as the solicitor closed the door behind him on his way out. He had been sitting at that desk poring over his father’s ledgers with the solicitor since he had left Elizabeth earlier that day. It was a little more than shocking to learn that he actually had quite a bit of money to his name now. His father had been paying his staff a ridiculously low wage—an unfortunate fact that didn’t surprise Oliver—and there were several tenant homes on the estate’s property that were bringing in a high return.

For some reason, Oliver had always thought his father was just barely scraping by. He’d never imagined that there would actually be a large inheritance once Frank Turner died. The meeting with the solicitor might have even been considered uplifting had the man not mentioned the letter Frank had written to him right before his death.

Apparently, his wonderful father had written to the solicitor days before he died, inquiring to see if an entail could be placed on the house, but he had died before anything could officially be put in place. Frank had made it clear that he suspected his greedy son would attempt to sell the house before his body had time to go cold in the grave and wanted to ensure that it couldn’t happen. Frank Turner was nothing if not a prideful man, and he wanted to make sure that the Turner name stayed associated with Pembroke for generations. It was odd to Oliver that this seemed to be a last minute thought for his father. Or perhaps it was the first time he had been sober enough in years to consider it. Either way, he wasn’t surprised to learn that Frank Turner’s hatefulness had transcended the grave.

A knock sounded on the door of the study. It was five knocks in a familiar beat.

“Come in, Kenny.”

His friend opened the door and stepped inside. “I knocked on the front door, but decided to let myself in when there was no answer from your staff.”

“That’s because I don’t have a staff,” Oliver said. “Most of them quit their posts the day Frank died. They couldn’t get away from this cursed house soon enough.” Oliver had hired a maid of all duties and a lad from the village to tend to his horse while he was staying at Pembroke. It hadn't been a problem when he was only planning to stay another day or two. But now…