“That was the excuse Damon provided for you not returning to the picnic.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” I sat on the opposite end of the sofa from him and neatly folded, then refolded, my hands in my lap.
“Miss Digby was disappointed you didn’t return,” Ollie said.
“Was she?”
“Yes, she was. It was quite rude of you not to return to the picnic.”
“Rude ofme? A headache is a perfectly valid reason to leave a picnic.”
“Only if one truly exists.”
I clenched my jaw. After the way Ollie had treated me yesterday, he had little right to lecture me on manners. But I did not wish to quarrel with him today. I’d come here to speak to him of my feelings, and I would not be deterred.
Still, I hadn’t the faintest idea how to broach the subject. I searched the recesses of my mind for an example of how to proceed. Surely, one of Miss Radcliffe’s or Miss Edgeworth’s heroines had declared her suit to a gentleman, but I could not think of one example.
“Well, I hope you’re feeling better today,” Ollie continued, “because Miss Digby is coming to call on you.”
I stiffened. “I’m not feeling up to the visit.”
Ollie released a heavy breath and set his newspaper on the side table. “May I ask why not?”
I gathered my courage and looked him in the eye. “Because I have no wish to watch you court her.”
Ollie’s head tilted to one side, and his brow creased in the center.
“Do you care for me, Ollie?”
“Of course I do. You are one of my dearest of friends, Hanny. That is why it’s so important to me that you and Miss Digby become friends.”
“No, Ollie. Do you care for me as more than a friend? Because . . . I do.”
His eyes widened in surprise.
“When the letter arrived inviting me to Summerhaven,” I hurried to explain, “I thought it had been written at your behest. I thought you wanted to courtme.”
“Hannah, I—” He cut off his words with a shake of his head. “This whole summer you have only had eyes for Damon. You played chess with him, rode horses with him, you danced withhim. I thought you were enamored with him just like all the other young ladies of theton.”
I bit my lip, knowing I should not confess to mine and Damon’s ruse—if Ollie knew, it could further alienate the brothers—but how else could I explain my actions? How could Ollie know for certain that my heart lay with him and not his brother? Ihadto tell him.
“It was a ruse,” I said.
His eyebrows dipped low, furrowing his brow. “Whatwas a ruse?”
“Everything. What you saw between Damon and me . . . Our relationship was a ruse.”
“Why would you—”
“Damon needed to delay marriage, and I needed you to see me. It was a charade.”
“A charade?” he repeated.
I nodded. “The only reason I allowed Damon to pretend to court me was to turn your head.”
Ollie blinked.
“You made me a promise,” I pressed on. “Years ago, under the old oak tree. You said we would always be together.”
