Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,40
on the water, sailing along the southern coast on a clear day where the sky is sapphire blue and the white cliffs topped with tufts of emerald grass loom overhead.”
Oliver’s brows rose. “That is very specific.”
“I once had the opportunity to sail along the western coast, and I’ve always wondered what it would be like to see the mighty white cliffs of the south from the sea,” said Miss Sophie. “But if I were to answer your question more realistically, I would be curled up under that tree.” She nodded at the largest tree sitting at the crest of the hill. “With a selection of Banbury cakes and a novel.”
“Ah, but what novel?”
Miss Sophie paused, her eyes unfocusing as she thought through her options. “It would depend on my mood. For a bit of tears with a happy ending, I enjoy Charles Dickens. For drama, something like The Monk or The Castle of Otranto. But my latest love is a French serial by the name of Les Trois Mousquetaires. I stumbled across it a few weeks ago and was lucky to find the very last issue before we left Town. It is an exciting tale of daring swordsmen fighting against a great evil to protect their king and country.”
Oliver chuckled. “I hadn’t expected such an array of dramatic prose.”
“I must balance out the serious books on migration patterns in waterfowl with fanciful tales.”
And with that, they began discussing literature, which led to plays and music. Then on to art. The more they spoke, the more Oliver felt at ease. The conversation was natural and engaging, at times passionate but with a muted quality, as though Miss Sophie felt all the same excitement as Miss Caswell but held it inside rather than releasing it out into the world.
It was unfair to compare the two ladies. Oliver knew it was wrong, yet he couldn’t stop himself as he listened to Miss Sophie speak about her favorite walks through the woods. She described them in such detail, it felt as though he were there. She captured his attention so thoroughly, and Oliver couldn’t help but compare this conversation with the one he’d just left.
Miss Sophie was peace personified. Being with her was like being wrapped in a thick blanket on a winter’s day, watching the snow drift lazily to earth, feeling warm and content and never wishing to leave the beauty of that moment.
Miss Caswell was all brightness and energy. There was a spark of vitality glowing in her heart, which had the power to invigorate and inspire. Being near her was like being swept up in a horse race, the hooves beating a rapid beat against the ground as he held on for dear life, thrilled at the feel of the wind rushing across his face and the power of the horseflesh beneath him, yet with a dash of trepidation that the horse might misstep and spell disaster for them both.
She was a force, commanding those around her with an ease and tenderness that ensured their actions aligned with her end goal—a power she used to further her many causes. Miss Caswell was many wonderful things, but Oliver struggled to picture her sitting thusly and enjoying a beautiful afternoon lounging about and enjoying the splendors of the countryside. As of yet, she hadn’t availed herself of any of the comforts the Nelsons had provided, choosing instead to linger around the politicians.
Giving some undoubtedly witty rejoinder, Miss Caswell had the others laughing, and Oliver was taken with the picture she presented. There was so much good to be found in that dear lady, and the more he came to know her, the more he admired her. And yet the thought of pursuing the future she painted, with a life full of social events and the tangled mess of politics, held little appeal. Oliver liked the idea of effecting that grand change she desired—it was something he longed to see—but those truly successful in politics dedicated their lives to it, and Oliver shuddered at the thought of surrendering the life and responsibilities he had in Bristow.
“Son.”
Oliver straightened at the sound of his father’s voice. There was no need for the jolt of surprise that had his throat tightening, for there was nothing untoward about chatting with a fellow guest. It was not as though his parents wished him to snub Miss Sophie. He’d done nothing wrong. Yet, as he turned to see his parents standing behind him, Oliver could not meet their eyes.