Lord Hastings's brows knitted together.
Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I’m feeling rather tired after my walk anyway.” She saw the slightly saddened look that swept over Wesley’s face, so she quickly added for encouragement, “Perhaps we might have time to talk…privately, as you suggest, after I’ve rested.”
His smile returned. It was a nice smile. Nice. Why did that word keep popping into her head? And why did it sound so negative?
No matter. There would be plenty of years to learn to love his niceness after they married.
Elizabeth watched the two men ride off and part of her felt a little dejected that Wesley had not even tried to kiss her hand, or squeeze it lightly before he left her. Even a wink would have gone a long way to encouraging some flutters. Nothing. The man must have devoted his life to the study of propriety. There would be no surprises in life with him.
At that moment, she heard a cat meow above her head. Elizabeth paused and squinted up into the tree she had been crossing under. There was an adorable little kitten perched on a high branch sending out cries of help.
“Oh, no. Are you stuck?” asked Elizabeth, unashamedly talking to the white kitten in the tree. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” It was a rather small tree. She’d certainly climbed higher ones before.
As Elizabeth was bunching up her skirts and preparing to climb the tree, that annoying voice in her head was telling her to stop and think before she acted. These sorts of adventures had never ended well for her in the past, and she was trying to act more refined and polished these days. Not to mention the fact that she was not at Dalton Park but on Lord Hastings’s estate.
But Lord Hastings wasn’t around, now was he?
Telling that voice to stuff it, Elizabeth started up the tree in the direction of the kitten. Just as she had suspected, it was the easiest climb of her life. She was on the branch just under the kitten. It would be easy to reach up and retrieve the animal if her stupid bonnet wasn’t so large, obstructing her vision.
Elizabeth untied it and tossed it off, relishing the freedom of that small act. Reaching up, she took the kitten gently in her arms and began to climb down. When she had almost reached the lowest branch, the kitten jumped from her arms to the ground and darted off.
Elizabeth gave a mock scoff. “And that’s the thanks I get for rescuing you from a tree?” She looked down, noting that the drop was not much, and decided to jump rather than climb the last little bit. But just as always in her life, there was a slight hitch.
Everything would have gone smoothly had a branch not snagged her hair on the way down. But of course, it did. And now Elizabeth was standing beneath the tree, being held captive by a rogue branch that felt as if it were slowly ripping every hair from her head. She looked up and immediately winced at the sharp tug of her hair. Like a claw, the branch had somehow grasped, twisted, and intertwined itself into the style that only a few moments ago had been a nicely polished and pinned style.
“Just wonderful!” she said with a rather juvenile stomp. But she didn’t care about looking mature at that moment. She felt angry. Why couldn’t things simply go her way for once? Why could she not, just this one time, act exactly how she pleased and not have any looming consequences?
Elizabeth reached up, careful to not tilt her head again, lest she be further punished by that cursed branch. Her fingers stilled when she heard the approaching sound of hooves again.
No! He’s back?
Could this day get any worse? Lord Hastings was going to ride up and see her tangled in this vindictive branch and ask how the situation came about. She was going to have to tell him the truth and would bet a pony he wasn’t going to like it.
She sighed, preparing herself for her fate as the horse stopped and she heard the sound of Wesley dismount and chuckle.
Wait. That wasn’t Wesley’s chuckle. That wonderful sound belonged to—
“Do I even want to know, Lizzie? How the devil do you always manage to get your hair tangled up in shrubbery?” asked her best friend in the world as he approached her from behind.
Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her chest. The sound of his voice washed over her making chill bumps fly across her ski
n. She tried to whip around to see him but the branch said no. She hissed at the pain stinging her scalp.
“No, don’t move.” Oliver came into the periphery of her vision.
First, his boots. Should the sight of slightly muddy top boots really cause a woman so much anticipation? Next, she could see his cravat as he came to stand just beside her—ridiculously close—and then she could feel his warmth as he stretched out tall with his hands above her head, working to free her hair. He smelled intoxicating. “This is rather impressive. What were you doing to make this tree so angry with you?”
But her mind was still reeling. How was Oliver here? And acting so nonchalant? Like he fully expected to see her today and they had planned it all along? This must have had something to do with Carver’s triumphant smile. She should have known better than to assume her brother would have not interfered in her life. But, at the moment, she couldn’t say she minded.
“I…was rescuing a kitten,” she said in a bit of daze, holding completely still as Oliver tended to her hair. What was it he smelled like? It was fantastic.
He tilted his head down, hands still in her hair, and smirked. “A kitten? This isn’t like one of your footpad stories, is it? A heroic action to cover up the fact that you were simply climbing trees for fun again?” He smiled fully and her eyes fell to the dimple on his right cheek. He hadn’t shaved yet that day. It was unfair how attractive the man looked with a beard.
“It ran off as soon as I reached the bottom.”
“A likely story.”
“It did!”