“Too many.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“Kate,” he said, letting his face grow serious again, “has Elizabeth told you all of this?”
“She didn’t have to. It’s written across her face every time she looks at you—it always has been.”
Oliver pressed his lips together and ran his hand along the back of his neck. Kate was right—something he never thought he would think.
His hurts and his fears had been keeping him from living the life he wanted. It was time to let go of those things. It was time to trust himself and let go of his father.
“We'd better hurry if we are going to stop that wedding,” Oliver said, watching a smile beam over Kate’s face.
Oliver and Kate stood shoulder to shoulder overlooking the empty chapel. “I’m sorry, you just missed them. The bride and groom left together about a quarter of an hour ago,” said an older man sweeping the floors at the other end of the small chapel.
Oliver thought his legs might give out. In fact, they did. He grabbed hold of a pew and sat down. Kate moved to put her hand on his shoulder as he dropped his face into his hands. “She’s gone. I’m too late,” he said.
Kate stayed quiet but kept her hand on his shoulder in silent support. After several minutes, she said, “I’m so sorry, Oliver. I really thought we would make it in time.”
“How am I going to move on now, Kate? How am I going to spend every day for the rest of my life without her?” The weight of the consequences of his decision fell on him like boulders. He felt sick.
“I don’t know, Oliver. Hopefully, in time…” her words trailed off. Apparently she knew how unhelpful they were. “Come on. Let’s at least get out of here.”
He nodded and stood, all too ready to get away from the chapel. And there was no way he was going to live in that blasted house a day longer. Living as Elizabeth’s—Lady Hastings's—neighbor would be nothing but torture.
Oliver had the carriage stop before Addington Hall could come into view. He was making sure Kate returned to her family safely, but his heart could not take facing the happy couple. “I’ll walk back to Pembroke from here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
Kate didn’t argue. She knew the pain he was facing.
Oliver stepped out of the carriage and raised his hand to Kate as the carriage pulled off.
Oliver’s feet took him not to the house, but to the tree where he had untangled Elizabeth’s hair. He could still picture her standing there, both helpless and defiant as he lingered, taking as long as possible to unwind her hair from the branch. His pain and guilt wrapped around him like a straight jacket. Elizabeth—his best friend in the world—was married. The love of his life was married to another man. His mind didn’t want to believe it, and he wasn’t sure what he would do now.
Oliver walked to the trunk of the tree and rested his back against the jagged wood. His heart felt beaten and singed. Elizabeth was gone. His mother was gone. Kensworth was married and no longer needed him like he once had. And his father had left the earth without ever seek
ing any sort of reconciliation.
Emptiness flooded Oliver.
He was given a chance to love Elizabeth and had lost it. He had let his father’s words define him and control him to the point of losing himself. He had lost everything that mattered most to him. His back slid down the tree as he found his way to the ground. Unable to control his pain any longer, Oliver put his face in his hands and wept. He wept for what he’d lost, he wept for what he wanted, he wept for the choices he should have made but didn’t.
He felt himself unraveling. The frayed edges of his life would hold no more and he seemed unable to control their confusion. But, in the midst of their breakdown, he recognized something else, too. A memory arose from within, awakening his senses and drawing from him a smile amidst the pain. Possibly even healing.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Hello, darling. Are you hurt?” Oliver asked, carefully approaching little Lady Elizabeth holding the bloody cut on her arm. Oliver had only seen glimpses of the girl since he had arrived at Dalton Park two days ago. He knew she had been curious about him, perched as she had been on the stairs and looking down with a hesitancy marking her face. He had smiled at her that day, hoping she would know she would be safe around him.
“Yes…” said Lady Elizabeth, casting a glance to the large bleeding cut on her arm.
He stepped closer, careful to move slowly and not spook her. Kenny had run off with Lady Mary and his neighbor, Miss Claire, to hide somewhere in the forest. Oliver had been seeking them when he had come across Lady Elizabeth. “May I see your cut?” he asked, kneeling down beside her.
She nodded and extended her small arm toward him. He knew from Kenny that the girl was only ten. But she was so petite he thought she looked even younger. He gently assessed the cut and knew immediately from the way it was bleeding that it was going to need stitching. But he was not going to be the one to break the news to the girl.
“This looks painful. How did you manage to claim this impressive scrape?”