But she was not yet ready to make peace with him, either. It was only at the end of the meal did she speak up again. Gathering her courage, she rose from her chair.
"I will be leaving for a few days, if you will allow," Alethea announced, looking straight at Oliver. "I must stay with Felicity at her home. I need some time to think."
The children around the table gasped and even Theodore appeared to be taken by surprise. Only Oliver maintained a calm composure, though his fingers tapped the table ever so faintly.
"Are you…are you leaving us?" Clara asked, looking worried.
"No, darling." Alethea turned to her, her heart breaking at the sight of the child's wide, worried eyes. "I will only be gone a little while."
"But why?" Eleanor's voice was hushed when she spoke up next. "Have we done something wrong?"
"You have done nothing at all. This is not about you," Alethea's throat worked as she swallowed.
Theodore shifted uneasily. "Well, I suppose a brief visit can be refreshing. A change of scene, and all that."
"If you feel you must go," Oliver finally spoke, "I will not stop you."
Something in her chest twisted at the way he phrased it.If you feel you must.As if she were a child asking permission to flee.
"I do," she said softly.
Oliver was looking at her directly now. His eyes searched hers, as if he might still find some sign that she was only speaking in haste. For one suspended moment, he looked not angry but rather stricken. Then he turned his gaze away and pressed his lips together. His fist tightened once on the table, the knuckles whitening.
"Very well," he said. "Send word when you arrive."
"I will."
"And if you…require anything," he continued, though he did not look at her this time, "the staff will see that you have it."
"Thank you," she whispered.
She felt the children watching her. She could not bring herself to look at them again. She was afraid her composure would shatter entirely if she did.
As she stepped back from the table, she caught a glimpse of Oliver. His face was turned slightly away, but she caught the unguarded look on his face. Like a wounded animal caught between pride and longing.
Theodore opened his mouth as if to say something, anything to fill the silence, but evidently thought better of it and closed it again.
Alethea quickly muttered her goodbyes, and stepped out of the room.
A break was much needed. For the both of them.
CHAPTER 22
"You look as though you're trying to decide whether to drink that or throw it at the wall."
Oliver did not look up. He kept his gaze fixed on the whisky glass resting between his palms, as if it were the only steady point left in the room. Alexander sighed, the scrape of a chair sliding back punctuating the hush. He settled across from him, folding his hands.
"Laurence asked me to come," he went on, "He said you've been here every evening this week."
Oliver's mouth twitched faintly. "Laurence has always been inclined to take too much interest in other people's misfortunes."
"He's not wrong to be concerned."
"I'm not causing trouble."
"No," Alexander agreed, glancing around the familiar place, "Just sitting here like a man waiting for judgment."
"Perhaps I am."
