She dropped her gaze to his chest. Eyes locked on the fabric of his waistcoat. “Because I couldn’t.”
“Why? You’ve always been honest with me.”
“That’s different,” she said, a subtle tremble touching her voice.
“How?” Why was he pushing this? What would be the end result?
Her eyes raised and her stare fixed with his—poignant and accusatory. “Because you are not my suitor.” Those words strangled him. “I have nothing to prove to you, Oliver. No need to impress you.” Her voice sounded desperate and almost aching. It matched the way he felt. What was happening between them? “I’ll tell Lord Hastings the truth eventually, but for now…I simply need to have at least a few common interests with him.”
“But they are not common interests. You are sacrificing your likes and dislikes to fade in the presence of that boring imbecile.”
She pulled her chin from his hand and edged away from him. “Oh, stop, Oliver. That’s unfair. You have no right to speak to me like this. You have no claim on me.”
No right? No claim? Oliver had to ball his fists at his sides to keep the words from coming out. He had more claim on Elizabeth than anyone. Oliver knew and understood her better than anyone else in the world. He could grab her around the waist and pull her to him, kissing the breath out of her lungs right then and there if he wished, because he knew Elizabeth, and he knew she would want it too.
That thought stopped him and his hands relaxed.
Hatley was right. Elizabeth loved him. It was clear and shining in the challenge of her eyes. They seemed to be pleading with him to see—to see her heart and want her. How long had she felt this way? How had he never recognized it so plainly before? Or, perhaps he had never seen it because he didn’t wish to.
But if she loved him, why hadn’t she simply told him? Perhaps she knew deep down, just as much as he did, that he was not good enough for her.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He took a small step back. As much as the closet would allow. The space between them felt vast and cold. Elizabeth must have felt it, too. She rubbed her arms and was quiet for a moment before she turned, preparing to leave by putting her hand on the closet knob. But she paused and he heard her take in a deep breath.
She turned around sharply. “Do you know, Oliver, I find it rather hypocritical of you to lecture me on sacrificing my wants and desires for another.” He stood perfectly still. What could she possibly mean by that? “You asked me earlier if I was jealous of Miss Barley, and the answer is no. I was annoyed.”
His head kicked back at the sharpness in her tone, and the way she was stepping closer to him, closing their distance and leaving him trapped between her and the closet wall behind him. “Oh?” Had he stopped breathing? “What have I done to annoy you, Lizzie?”
“You’ve been flirting with the woman endlessly. No wonder she will not leave you alone. Not to mention becoming her personal manservant. You were quick to comply with every ridiculous request the woman made, from retrieving the nonexistent leaf from your hair, to swapping places with Lady Olivia at the picnic so you could protect her from the bees—which were also imaginary. You’ve been giving her every indication that you find her desirable. In fact, you give every woman in London that same indication.” Somehow she managed to step even closer to him. “That is not who you are, Oliver Turner. You’re better than that.” Was he though? “And as you are certainly not a manservant, you must stop acting as one.”
“Elizabeth, you don’t understand. I’m only providing the ladies of Society a service. It is not that they wish to spend their lives with me. They simply use my attentions to attract those more eligible. Men more like Lord Hastings.”
“You truly believe that?”
“Yes.”
Her brows pulled together. “Then you are a fool, Oliver. A fool who cannot see the beauty in yourself.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” he asked with a smirk.
“Do not try to tease your way out of this. I won’t let you this time.” She always had a way of cutting right to the heart of things with him. How did she manage to do that? It would be useless to try to side step the conversation with her.
“Very well, Lizzie.” He swallowed. “What shall I do then?”
“Drop your act. Be yourself from now on, and for goodness' sake, stop doing every lady’s bidding in all of London.”
He pursed his lips together and thought on it a moment. Unfortunately, her words rang true. He was exhausted from acting the part of Bond Street Beau. All he wanted was a quiet, happy life with Elizabeth. But if he couldn’t have that, he was going to ensure that she had it with someone. “All right, I will do as you say. But only on the condition that you do the same.” He only wanted Hastings to marry Elizabeth if the man could properly adore the woman for who she was. Elizabeth should never have to hide her adventurous spirit.
They stood there for a long silent moment, staring at each other—daring one another to admit their hearts. If only he could. If only he could trust himself to love her well and protect her. But his father’s words rang too loudly in his ears.
Finally, she broke the quiet and something in her smile grew mischievous, changing the air and making his stomach flip. “Agreed. Shall we have a practice?” Oliver knew that look too well. She was up to something but he wasn’t sure what yet.
“A practice could be good. What do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to teach you something.” Was her tone seductive or was he simply imagining that?
“Oh?” Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He swallowed, trying to also drag some air into his lungs. “And what’s that?”
Her eyes sparkled and a smile bloomed on her mouth. “The word…no.”