Ollie frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing. I only wish to continue our stroll.”
“Of course, if that is your desire, but let us also continue our conversation.”
“Perhaps we should not,” I said and started down the path again. “There is nothing so nice as the sounds of nature.” I’d longed for this show of affection from Ollie most of my life, but now I had the sudden urge to hide in the same hedgerow we’d played in together as children.
Ollie glanced at me sidelong. “Have I said something to offend you?”
“Not at all. The lavender bushes are inordinately beautiful this year. So full of blooms and fragrant too, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but Hannah, I am trying to tell you something important.”
I knew he was, and I could guess what about, but I did not wish for him to continue. I took a steadying breath and slowed my step to face him. “I know,” I said. “But I am not prepared to have this conversation.”
“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.
“No, it’s not that. It is just . . .” I bit my lip.
How could I ever explain my change of heart after he’d given up his courtship with Miss Digby for me? I glanced around for an escape.
“Amelia!” I all but cried her name with relief when I saw her entering the garden path.
“Good day, Miss Kent. Mr. Jennings,” she said as she approached, and then when she joined our circle, “I hope I am not intruding.”
“Not at all,” I said quickly.
“No,” Ollie agreed, though much less emphatically. “In fact, it is good you are here. I have some business matters to attend to, and I should hate to leave Miss Kent without a companion. If you will excuse me.” He touched the brim of his hat in a curt goodbye, then left the way we’d come.
“It appears things are going well with your Mr. Jennings,” Amelia said once he was out of sight.
“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes. You were standing so close. Did he finally declare his suit?”
I feared he had been trying, but . . . “No. We were only continuing a conversation from a few days ago.”
“Well, he looked as if he wished to,” she said. “How does Lord Jennings feel about this development? Is he ready to be cast aside for his younger brother?”
“I would not know. Damon is in London learning from a Mr. Rowley.”
“Mr. Rowley?” Her nose scrunched.
“Do you know him?”
“Thankfully no, but Frederick wrote of him often last Season. I am surprised you have not heard of him. He has quite a reputation among theton.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, well. We do not need to speculate on Mr. Rowley or on Lord Jennings’s less respectable diversions, but I do hope Lord Jennings will get any ungentlemanly conduct out of his system before we wed.”
I lost my footing and stumbled.
Amelia grabbed my arm, catching my fall. “Are you unwell?”
“I am still a little weak from my illness,” I lied, but the truth was the idea of Damon gallivanting about London made me feel almost as ill as the thought of him marrying Amelia. I’d known of her plan to avoid love and marry Damon almost from the very moment we met—and since I rather disliked Damon at that time, I had not been bothered by her plan—but now . . . everything was different.
“You are looking a little pale. Let us sit until you have recovered.” She led me to a bench and fanned my face. “Mother received a missive from the modiste that my new dresses are ready.”
