Shifting from foot to foot, Oliver relaxed his jaw and released the breath stuck in his lungs. “I know, and I cannot bear the thought of causing them any more heartache. I’ve already broken with Miss Sophie.”
Father sighed with a faint smile. “It’s for the best.”
Oliver’s stomach gave a sour turn, his heart dropping in his chest as he nodded; that simple movement felt like the worst lie he’d ever spoken. And something in Father’s expression said he understood Oliver’s disbelief.
Meeting his son’s eyes with unflinching strength, his father confessed, “I courted Mrs. Banfield before I met your mother. I thought myself madly in love with her, and that no other could ever hold my heart as she did. When she married another, I was foolish enough to believe I would never love again.”
Father huffed, shaking his head at his past self as his eyes drifted away for several quiet moments.
“You know your mother and I married for convenience, but when we exchanged vows, I was still enamored with Mrs. Banfield. I kept your mother at arm’s length because I believed my feelings for her could never compare to the silly sentiments I harbored for that woman.”
Shifting, Father kicked at the ground, grinding his teeth together. He took a deep breath through his nose before he continued. “Then Mrs. Banfield and I were thrown together in a situation similar to your own, and I sought her out time and time again, convinced my behavior was innocent. Warm friendship. Nothing more. And all the while, my dear, endlessly kind, and beautiful wife’s heart broke as I fawned over another.”
Tugging at the stock tied around his neck, Father rubbed a finger across the crooked bend of his nose. “To this day, I cannot think back on my behavior without abhorrence. I was never unfaithful to your mother, but neither was I the faithful husband she deserved.”
He gave another huff and kicked at the ground again. “With time, I came to see the truth behind Mrs. Banfield’s demure mask. She didn’t care for me, and what I felt for her was nothing but an infatuation kept alive by my own stupidity and stubbornness.”
“Father—”
But the gentleman shook his head. “You are committing the same folly, Oliver. Learn from my mistake and let go of this infatuation before it costs you dearly.”
Oliver tucked his hands behind him, his gaze turning to the pond. There was a little breeze, causing ripples along the glassy surface; the green of the foliage and grass created a stark contrast to the dark water. But his thoughts were far from the idyllic view before him.
Father’s words only confirmed and strengthened his decision to sever ties to Miss Sophie, but the weight pressing on his chest did not lighten.
“As I have said, I know my duty, and I shan’t shirk my responsibility to my family or Miss Caswell,” said Oliver, his strength ebbing with each word; he maintained his upright posture with the last of his reserves.
“Duty and responsibility?” Father’s brows rose high, his tone echoing that surprise. “You sound like a condemned man.”
But Oliver was past the point of discussion. There was no more to say, nothing more to be done, and it did no good to bemoan his situation. Father called after him but, thankfully, did not follow as Oliver turned back to the party and strode to where Lily and the other young ladies played.
“Mr. Kingsley.” Miss Caswell clutched her battledore before her with a tight smile, and Oliver felt a flush of shame, knowing that his behavior was the source of her unease.
“Would you join me for a stroll around the garden?” Forcing all other thoughts from his mind, Oliver gave her a warm smile. Regardless of his current torment, he was always pleased to see her, and it was best to focus on that.
“Certainly,” she said, taking his proffered arm.
Oliver forced his feet to maintain a languid pace as the pair wound their way around the others and towards the ornate gardens. With more distance, Miss Caswell’s tension eased, her smile growing more natural, and the pressure in his chest subsided. Here was a fine choice for his future. The proper wife.
Repeating those words in his mind, Oliver forced his thoughts to focus solely on the delightful young lady at his side.
*
It was nothing but an infatuation. The words didn’t do much to unravel the knot Victoria’s heart had twisted itself into, but she clung to them as Oliver Kingsley led them away from the others and into the formal gardens. The Nelsons’ grounds were truly lovely, but the effect of the flowers and manicured shrubs was lost on her, as her thoughts returned again and again to the sight of her beau seated beside Miss Sophia Banfield.
Surely it was naught but a passing flirtation. Something forgotten as quickly as it had struck. And Mr. Kingsley was still attentive, spending more time with her over the last few days than he had with Sophie.
But no self-imposed deception allowed Victoria to ignore how Mr. Kingsley’s eyes brightened at the sight of that young lady. The aura of satisfaction he always had when in her company, as though he was meant to be by her side. No matter how Victoria attempted to pass it off as meaningless, her conscience would not allow that lie to stand uncontested.
Mr. Kingsley was more than infatuated with Sophie. But surely it wasn’t anything close to love. The pair hardly knew each other.
Victoria winced at the recriminating thought that recalled the rapid manner in which her feelings for Mr. Dixon had developed so long ago during a chance meeting at a ball. It hadn’t been an instantaneous love—Victoria wasn’t certain such a thing existed—but interest had developed into an attachment and then something deeper in a matter of days. For some, it took months or years to develop such strong attachments, but she could not guard her heart when every interaction with Mr. Dixon had shown her more and more reasons to admire him.
As she and Mr. Kingsley stepped towards the gardens, she felt Mr. Dixon’s gaze following her, and only when the greenery of the formal garden enveloped them, blocking them from view, was she able to let out the breath she’d been holding.
Victoria was not one to fumble with her words, but her tongue was cemented to the roof of her mouth, refusing to offer up even the slightest bit of assistance. And Mr. Kingsley was of no help. Breezes brushed the bushes; their rustling foliage and the distant sound of the others were the only sounds breaking the silence.
Conversation was always easy between them. Victoria could not think of another time when she’d struggled for words with Mr. Kingsley, but the silence pressed down on her. It bore witness to the shift in their situation, and Victoria’s heartbeat increased as she fought for a solution.
