There was nothing to say that hadn’t been said, so Phin just shrugged for a second time. Suddenly, Athena turned and stepped up in front of him again, her finger jabbing at his chest once more.
“Phineas Oliphant, that lass loves ye, and ye would be foolish to let a lifetime of happiness slip through yer fingers because of a misunderstanding. March yerself up to her and tell her ye love her, loud and clear. Then propose marriage, aye?”
A slow grin crept across his face. “Aye, sister dear.”
“Aye, yer dear sister wants what’s best for ye,” Athena snapped. “Why do ye think I have been forcing myself to attend the Dumpkins events, here and there, despite the stares and whispers? It is to keep an eye on ye. Especially after I learned Olive’s interests—that is why I kenned the two of ye would be perfect together.”
Straightening from the doorframe, Phineas grinned down at his sister. “Well, perhaps there’s time for a bit of gallivanting after all. With Olive!”
The letter in her hands wasn’t even damp. But then again, why would it be? It had been safely stored inside the pocket of Phineas’s jacket—the one which had stayed dry in the shed when the rain had started, and which now rested around her shoulders—for a few days, judging by the posted date.
Usual offer…Aberdeen Jones…Holy Land…leave immediately…send word of your arrival…looking forward to discussing details with you soon.
It was signed by the Board of Directors for the Society of Archaeology.
Olive’s hands shook as she folded the letter and returned it to the pocket of his jacket, tears threatening to spill.
Phineas was leaving her.
He was going to London to hear the particulars of this latest mission, and then he was going to the Holy Land to retrieve a Roman chalice from a city which shouldn’t even exist. He wasleaving.
And he’d known it for days.
He’d known it when he’d suggested the archaeological dig with her.
He’d known it when he’d kissed her.
He’d known it when he’d allowed her to seduce him, to behave in the most wonderfully wanton manner. He’d known it when he’d made love to her beautifully enough to make her sob.
He was leaving.
With a sigh, Olive pulled her spectacles from her face and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to squeeze the tears back inside her head. She knew she couldn’t cry right now. She simply didn’t have the energy.
Sheshouldmarch after Phineas, hand him the letter, and demand answers. But did she really want them?
Leaving the storage shed, not even an hour ago, she’d been struck by a sense of loss. It had been a wonderful interlude—the excavationandthe intercourse—but it clearly wasn’t something that could happen again.
And now it wouldn’t, because Phineas Oliphant was leaving.
Or rather, Aberdeen Jones was leaving.
And she loved them both.
If only they—him—either of them—loved her.
But no, she’d thrown herself at a man she’d long admired, and he’d taken what she’d offered, hadn’t he? Could she blame him?
Could she blame herself?
She sighed again and slipped her spectacles back on. She needed to find him, if only to return his jacketandhis letter, and tell him she didn’t expect anything from him in the future, since he was leaving. He’d likely accept the assurance gratefully.
The memory of him spilling his very essence inside her, and how she’d never felt closer to another human being in that moment, threatened to overwhelm her.
No, no, she couldn’t think of that. Best to get changed, hold onto her resolve, and say what needed to be said. To his face.
Should she bother sending for Mary? Olive stared down at her damp blouse and skirts, wondering if it was worth it.
She’d managed to get out of these clothes on her own earlier—although she’d had a much more interesting motivation—and more-or-less back into them. Phineas had helped her, but she could manage to change on her own.
