Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,47

turned wry. “Even though it runs contrary to my goal of securing you as my wife, I cannot help but admire your tenacity and dedication to your family.”

The mirth fled his expression, his eyes burning into hers as Elijah said with absolute conviction, “But I will not give up on us, Victoria. I will not force your hand, but neither will I surrender. And even if you should marry another, I will go to my grave with your name written upon my heart.”

No lady hearing such a declaration could remain firm. More than the words, Victoria saw his unwavering adoration in every facet of his expression; it burned in his eyes and radiated from his touch. Sending a cry heavenward, Victoria prayed for forgiveness; she was not strong enough to withstand it. Closing her eyes, she forced aside all thought and brought her lips to his.

***

Fishing was a diverting pastime, but Oliver couldn’t focus on it while his thoughts were so tangled. Stepping away from the other gentlemen, he gave all assurances to return shortly, though Father answered with a distinctly unhappy look that held more than a touch of warning. Letting out a sigh, Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets and tromped into the forest in search of a bit of quiet, as there was no peace to be found.

Oliver adored and respected his parents, but they were being so ridiculous. Though they no longer scolded him for his friendship with Miss Sophie, they gave him plenty of silent reprimands. Father was forever sending him hard looks that demanded Oliver’s obedience, while Mother’s eyes were filled with despair, as though he were careening towards utter destruction.

Couldn’t they see Miss Sophie was different from Mrs. Banfield and the rest of her family?

Though in all honesty, Oliver wasn’t even certain why his parents were so set against that family. Certainly, they were not the sort with whom he’d wish a close acquaintance, but what he’d seen of the family, they were not deserving of such animosity. Perhaps it was due to some misunderstanding. It wasn’t unusual for feuds to begin over minor irritations or miscommunications, and if Oliver could merely discover the source of the trouble, he might be able to mend the breach.

But then what?

Oliver halted in his tracks and shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh. This was all pointless; it was not as though Oliver could maintain a friendship with Miss Sophie once his marriage to Miss Caswell was settled.

“Come to clear your head, Mr. Kingsley?”

The voice had Oliver jumping, and he whirled around to see Mrs. Banfield standing behind him. With a glance, he realized he’d wandered farther from the river than intended, and they were well out of sight.

Mrs. Banfield watched him with half-lidded eyes, a smile curling her lips. “I was hoping for some time with you.”

“I cannot imagine why,” he said with a slanted grin. “I am not terribly interesting.”

Her lips formed into a pout that looked incongruous with a lady of her years. “You are too hard on yourself, Mr. Kingsley. I am certain you have much to interest me.”

Mrs. Banfield lifted a hand to his lapel as though brushing aside a speck of dirt, but her hand lingered there as she stared up into his eyes. Oliver stepped away, but she moved with him, coming so close that her skirts tangled around his legs.

“At times, I find these parties so boring,” she said with a sigh that brushed against his cheeks, bringing with it a cloying scent of roses. “Perhaps there is something we might do to better occupy our time.”

If Oliver had been in ignorance as to her meaning—and he was certain he wasn’t—any doubt fled when Mrs. Banfield drew close enough that she brushed against his chest, rising to her tiptoes to whisper into his ear.

“The rest of the guests will be outside for several hours, and my bedchamber is a short journey from here.”

The sudden and brazen overture took him so by surprise that Oliver was rooted in place like a petrified tree, blinking and shuddering at the feel of her hands running up his chest. When he finally moved, he did so carefully, so as not to topple the woman, who was leaning heavily on him as her hands roamed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice coming out in a juvenile squeak.

“There’s no need to be coy, Oliver,” she said with a laugh, her fingers working to undo his waistcoat buttons. Her voice dipped