The ladies had planned a riding party? Why hadn’t he been invited to begin with? “The picnic is today?”
“In about an hour, in fact.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes at Hatley. Suspicion tiptoed over him. “And just when were you first asked to join this riding party?”
Hatley cracked the barest of grins. “Three days ago.”
“And you’re only just now deciding you should like for me to go in your stead?” Hatley nodded. “Do the ladies happen to know you are asking me to attend in your place?”
“No.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes into the barest of slits. “Scheming, Hatley?”
“Will you do it, or not?”
Oliver looked down and lightly scuffed his boot across the red rug. “Do you happen to know if Lord Hastings will also be among this riding party?”
“I believe so.”
Oliver’s fingers dug into the arm rest.
“Does that bother you?” asked Hatley, already reading the correct answer in the whitened grip of Oliver's knuckles.
He relaxed his hand and stood up. “Of course not. As I told you the other day, Elizabeth deserves the best. I hope this for her as much as she hopes it for herself.” Was that believable enough?
“I thought you said Hastings would bore her?”
“He will. But he will be safe.” His gaze dropped to the floor, seeing a memory of Elizabeth laughing instead of the ornate swirling pattern of the rug. “All I want is for Elizabeth to be safe.”
“For what it’s worth, Turner, I have no doubt she would be safe with you.”
Oliver looked up and met Hatley’s eyes. “Only because you don’t know my whole story.”
“Tell it to me.”
He couldn’t. Even if he wished to, Oliver couldn’t get the words out. With words came memories, and those memories still hurt today as much as the day they were created. However, this time, he didn’t feel like snapping at Hatley’s prodding. He held his gaze and admitted, at least in part, the truth. “I can’t. It hurts too much.” He swallowed and Hatley remained quiet, giving him the space he needed to collect his thoughts.
“Trust me, Elizabeth is better off with the viscount. He can offer her all of the things that I cannot. I’ll go in your stead today, but only because you need to be here with Mary. No matter your scheming, Hatley, I don’t plan to interfere with Hasting’s suit.”
What was Oliver doing here? No. He absolutely was not supposed to be invited. Elizabeth had made it plain to Mary that Oliver was not to be added to the guest list. Although she hadn't said as much to Mary, Elizabeth knew that if that blasted man continued to show up in every corner of her life she would never be released from loving him. And she thought that, for once in her life, her sister had listened and submitted to her desires for Oliver Turner to be left off of the guest list.
But there he was, ruining all of Elizabeth’s well thought out plans, walking his horse up next to hers with a smile that sent a warm rush through her chest. Did his blond hair have to look so wonderful peeking out of his hat at the nape of his neck? And why must he have worn her favorite light blue waistcoat under his black jacket? It was obnoxious how well it hugged the contours of his muscular shoulders. Shoulders she had spent a little too much time dreaming of touching. Elizabeth shook her head, ridding her mind of those unwelcome thoughts.
Rose and Carver, Lord Hastings and his younger sister, Lady Olivia, as well as Miss Barley and her younger sister, Miss Marion, were already in attendance and seated on their mounts, waiting to set out. Mary had also invited another single gentleman by the name of Mr. Yates, but he had unfortunately become ill overnight and had sent his regrets that morning. Unfortunately, the atrocious Miss Barley had weaseled an invitation for herself and her sister from Rose, and had not come down with an illness overnight that would have prohibited her attendance. No sooner than Rose and Elizabeth had left Mary’s house the day the riding party had been decided, had
Miss Barley and her mother crossed their path on the sidewalk and pounced on she and Rose.
Rose was a mastermind when it came to spinning conversations in the directions she wanted them to go, but even the retired con woman walked away from their talk in a haze, wondering how the devil she had been manipulated into extending an invitation to the obnoxious pair. Rose was a bit testy for the remainder of the day, sulking around the house, claiming she had completely lost her touch.
Carver had managed to pull Rose out of her blue devils by sweeping her off to a remote section of Hyde Park, rumored to be a popular dueling ground, and returning her pistol. He had nailed a playing card to the trunk of a tree and had her shoot several rounds until she was smiling again. She had returned home in the best of spirits and Elizabeth couldn’t help but long for the type of union Rose and Carver shared.
Which is why she was so spitting angry to find Oliver standing in front of her looking like the most attractive man alive. She would never find her soul mate when he was always showing up and taunting her with what she could never have.
“Mr. Turner,” said Elizabeth in a cold tone as Oliver stopped with his horse next to hers, “What a nice surprise.”
He lifted a brow in an amused smirk. “Really? I’d hate to see what your face looked like if it was an unpleasant surprise.” He winked and lowered his voice leaning closer so his breath tickled her ear. “Don’t worry, Lizzie. I won’t step on your time with Hastings.”
Could he not see that he already was? Just the feel of his breath against her ear was making her head spin. And it was irritating that he did not look the least bit upset by the knowledge that she was wishing for alone time with another man. Not that she was trying to make Oliver jealous by her courtship with Lord Hastings.