The Caswells’ clothes were finely made but lacked embellishments. They eschewed driving through the Park during the Season, claiming a preference for walking. They were well-liked and well-connected among London society, yet they abstained from entertaining due to Mrs. Caswell’s “nerves.” They made a good show of preferring simpler tastes than many of the upper classes, yet Oliver now suspected that it had more to do with necessity.
How had he not noticed all the little signs before?
Pausing on the path, Oliver placed his hands on his hips and threw back his head with a sigh. Eyes closed, he took in several breaths and wondered why things had become so complicated. The forest air filled his lungs, weaving its magic through him as he inhaled its crisp, fresh scent.
And with it came clarity.
Peter’s revelations had been intended to inspire panic or upheaval, but instead, they filled Oliver with a renewed sense of purpose. He did not doubt Miss Caswell’s goodness. Whether or not money played a role in her accepting his courtship was immaterial, for Oliver knew she reciprocated the admiration and friendship he felt. They’d built the beginnings of a relationship that would serve them well through the years, and Oliver did not shy away from the thought of assisting her family in whatever capacity they required.
Neither could he blame them for resorting to such lengths. Society was not kind to the fallen and viewed them with pity or derision.
No, the money did not change his feelings towards Miss Caswell, but it did alter his feelings towards himself. How could he harbor fantasies of a life with Miss Sophie when they would bring ruin to the Caswells? The choice between the two young ladies—if there ever had been one—was no longer just about his happiness or that of the ladies involved. Could he live with condemning the Caswells to penury? They may have gotten themselves into this financial mess, but Oliver had the power to free them of it. How would his conscience accept that he’d chosen his own happiness over so many others’?
Even assuming he could forget his family’s objections to Miss Sophie and his own questions regarding her, there was that massive barrier standing between them.
The happiness of two compared with the happiness of so many was no difficult decision. And it was not as though life with Miss Caswell would be miserable. Or even disagreeable. Content. Oliver had thought such a word quite acceptable just weeks before, but now it felt like a noose around his neck, and it was no one’s fault but his own.
As he sat there, his heart and head waged a war that would only end in a Pyrrhic victory. No matter how he examined the options, Oliver could not foresee a resolution without pain. The choice was between lesser or greater amounts of it.
Today, fate had given him ample reasons why Miss Sophie was unsuitable for him—as if he’d needed more than his own family’s misery over the match. With a sigh, Oliver deflated. He supposed he did need it, for he’d not heeded the warning. And he supposed he ought to be grateful to have this revelation when there was still time to make the right choice.
Shaking aside all else, Oliver strode along the path, firm in his destination. The clearing came sooner than expected and the searing glow of the sun beat down on him as he strode towards his quarry—and ignored the sight of Miss Sophie watching him.
Miss Caswell’s gaze was turned towards the distance, though she smiled and nodded at the other ladies. His shadow fell over her, and it drew her from her daze, her eyes reaching to meet his. A hint of sorrow touched her smile, and her gaze was as troubled as his own. Taking her by her hand, Oliver drew her to her feet, tucked her arm through his, and gave a few trite words of apology to the group for dragging their friend away.
“You looked as though you needed an escape,” he said.
Miss Caswell clung tighter to his arm and her smile turned grateful, though the sadness did not leave her eyes. “It has been a trying day, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Were you subjected to meaningless conversation with pompous windbags?” asked Oliver, slanting a glance in her direction.
She gave a snorting laugh and covered it with a hand. “You haven’t cared for the days’ festivities?”
“I haven’t cared for the company. Luckily, it is quickly improving,” he replied with a smile. “But what has your heart so troubled?”
“Do you ever feel as though your family’s expectations are a physical weight pressing down until you are liable to be crushed beneath them?” she asked with a humorless huff. “I adore them, but at times, it feels as though I do not have a will of my own.”
Steering her away from the others, Oliver led them on a winding course around the clearing. “Families can be a blessing and a curse at times. Though hopefully, more of the former and less of the latter. What are they pestering you about?”
Miss Caswell shook her head and gave a smile, though her tight hold on his arm did not lessen. “I do not wish to speak of sad things at present, Mr. Kingsley. Perhaps we might discuss the lack of education for the poor.”
Despite everything else that had happened today, Oliver let out a barking laugh. “And that is your idea of a happier subject?”
“At present? Yes. For at least I have some hope of it improving.” Her tone was dry, and her smile wry, but a spark of mirth brought a hint of life back to her gaze.
Pulling her to a stop, Oliver turned to face Miss Caswell. “If I might risk a touch of sincerity, I would like to say that should you need a listening ear, I have two that are quite capable and at your service.”
Miss Caswell took in a deep breath and let it out, the vestiges of the tension in her shoulders easing with it. Her smile broadened as she met his gaze. “I know, Mr. Kingsley, and I count your friendship among the most important in my life.”
Though the young lady before him had a way with words, Oliver knew she did not use them without care, and hearing her earnest declaration warmed his heart. Whatever else may be the case, he did not doubt her sincerity.
“And I feel the same, Miss Caswell,” said Oliver, threading her arm through his and continuing their stroll. She leaned heavily on him, but the strain was gone as they regaled each other with the antics they’d witnessed among the party, and Oliver felt as though this moment was a fresh start. A new beginning. Walking arm-in-arm with his bride to be.
This was his future.
Chapter 22
“Won’t you display your prowess with the bow, Mr. Kingsley?” With her quiver slung over her shoulder, Miss Essie Dosett had her bow propped up on the ground, her fingers holding it by the string as she slowly swung it this way and that. Cocking her head to the side, she looked at Oliver from under her lashes with a coy smile lighting her pretty face.
