“Right,” she said, trying to sound as if she had been attending the entire time. “And this invitation…I should be excited to accept it, no doubt?”
Lord Hastings looked at her with an expression that was the closest thing to warm she had seen from him thus far. “Shall we speak frankly with one another again, Lady Elizabeth?” If frank meant with a little more excitement, she really hoped he would. “My mother has never felt a need to extend an invitation to visit Addington Hall to an unmarried lady and her family before.” A visit? To Lord Hastings’s country seat?
Elizabeth swallowed. “But…she does now?”
He smiled a little. She had to admit he looked handsome when he did that. Her stomach didn’t flip over like it did when Oliver smiled, but she could appreciate the sight nonetheless. “I think she does, yes.”
“Oh.” She needed to smile. This was good, was it not? He was essentially admitting that a proposal was imminent. Good. Wonderful. Brilliant. This was exactly what she wanted.
Elizabeth looked down at the reins, held a bit too tightly in her hands. She mustered a smile and aimed it at Lord Hastings. “I should be delighted to receive an invitation.” There was no going back now.
Oliver suddenly slowed his horse’s pace to drop in beside Elizabeth. She resisted the urge to look at him. She wasn’t going to let him ruin this for her. “I don’t think Miss Barley should have to ride alone,” she said to Oliver. Getting rid of Oliver was a must. She couldn’t focus on Lord Hastings when she was constantly trying to put out the fire that rushed over her when Oliver was near.
“Neither do I. Which is why I’ve come to fetch Lord Hastings.” Oliver looked around Elizabeth to make eye contact with the viscount. “Miss Barley wishes to bend your ear a moment. Something about hoping to join the commitee that helps sponsor young women who have found themselves in unfortunate situations. You know, the committee over which your mother presides.”
Something about Oliver’s tone made Elizabeth’s eyes narrow. What was he up to? She looked to Lord Hastings and he frowned. “I’m afraid Lady Hastings is not associated with any such committee.”
Oliver looked flabbergasted. Completely and utterly flabbergasted. “You don’t say? I thought for certain she was. Well, you’d better set Miss Barley straight then.”
Elizabeth looked to Miss Barley and noted her wildly possessive eyes staring Oliver down. It did not look like the face of a woman who wished to have a private chat with Lord Hastings over any such committee. What was Oliver’s aim?
“Very well,” said Lord Hastings, looking as if he’d rather have his hair plucked out one by one than ride beside Miss Barley for even a moment. She could at least admire him for that. “Do you mind, Lady Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth was a little startled when the first thought that popped in her head was, For goodness’ sake, go! It only served to make her angrier with Oliver. She would have been perfectly content with Lord Hastings's monotone stories if it weren’t for that obnoxious best friend of hers.
“I will be sad to lose your company, but I quite understand,” said Elizabeth.
He smiled, pleased by her reply. Her eyes widened as he reached out and squeezed her hand—the first contact they had shared other than when they were dancing. “I will return to you soon.”
Oh, come on, you rebellious heart. Why won’t you beat faster for him?
The moment Lord Hastings led his horse up to the front, Oliver guided his to ride close to Elizabeth—the same way they always rode at Dalton Park. Or, not exactly the same way, because his leg had never brushed up against hers before like it was doing at that moment.
“Shouldn’t you be the one to set Miss Barley straight since you were the one to lead her astray?” said Elizabeth through tight teeth and turning to glare at Oliver.
“Oh, no. She might think I’m simply trying to needle her out of position. Better leave it to Hastings.” Unbelievable.
Oliver’s horse, Romeo, tossed his head against the reins, trying to gain the attention of Lucy—Elizabeth’s mare. Knowing how much Lucy meant to Elizabeth, Papa had been kind enough to have the horse transported to Town with her. It was nice having this bit of home away from home.
Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile down at the two horses that were the best of friends. Anytime they were let out to pasture together, they always played and raced and danced around as if they were the animal embodiments of Elizabeth and Oliver.
She laughed and leaned down to pat Romeo. “Not today, boy. Lucy has to focus.” It hadn’t surprised Elizabeth a bit the day Oliver had told her he had named his new horse after the Shakespearean lover.
“Poor old chap,” said Oliver, with a chuckle. “He’s missed his friend, and now that she’s with him again, he can’t even get her to play.” Elizabeth looked down at the grass. Was he actually talking about Lucy and Romeo? She was so tired of Oliver just thinking of her as a friend. “Come on, let’s have a race and give these horses something to do. I know you’re just as bored as I am on this dull ride.” He hadn’t looked bored, laughing at all of Miss Barley’s jests.
But he was right. She was dying to let her horse run. She knew Lord and Lady Stanton’s home wasn’t much farther. She itched to spur her horse into a gallop and surprise Oliver before he was ready. It wouldn’t take long for him to catch her—it never did—and he would laugh, telling her she was a dirty cheat. Last time she had jumped the start of a race, he had taken her dessert at dinner as penance. She smiled just thinking of it.
“See, just the thought of a race is making you happy. Come on, Lizzie. I know you want to.”
Elizabeth’s smile fell, and his nickname reminded her that she couldn’t act in such a way anymore. He was still thinking of her as Little Lizzie. What did she have to do to get him to understand? To see that she was different—no longer that little girl, eager to run with him into any adventure. Things had to change. It was time for her to become a wife and a mother. If he didn’t wish for her to fill that role in his life, he was going to have to move aside. Lord Hastings was her future now.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together and sat a little straighter, banishing memories of Dalton Park from her mind. “Ladies do not race during a riding party, Mr. Turner. Lord Hastings would not find it becoming.”
“Elizabeth.” The way he said her name—almost as a caress—made her look up at him. There was something new in his tone. And his look…if she had thought Lord Hastings's look was warm, this one was pure fire. Her heart raced. What did it mean? Was she imagining it? Was he…jealous?
Her traitorous heart liked that idea far too much.
“Mr. Turner!” Miss Barley’s voice sidled into their conversation, effectively putting a stop to whatever Oliver was about to say. “You promised you would tell me about meeting the prince regent! We are nearly finished with our ride and I have yet to hear the story. Do come tell me.” She fanned her spider leg lashes at him.