Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,65

do not see the point in waiting any longer.” Victoria was not one for fibs, and that statement leapt straight into a blatant falsehood. Her resolve weakened with each thought of Mr. Dixon’s whispered declarations. Merely meeting his gaze was enough to allow her determination to crumble further. To say nothing of her beau’s waning interest.

“We know each other quite well, Mr. Kingsley. Is there a reason to equivocate?”

He nodded, giving no words to the thoughts she saw buzzing about his head like the bees flitting around the garden. Taking Victoria by the hand, he pulled her close, and she fumbled to know what to do with her hands. Placing them on his chest felt unnatural, though it was no more comfortable to place them on his shoulders or wrap her arms around him.

His hand rested on her back, and Mr. Kingsley leaned forward but his toes caught hers, and Victoria squeaked and stumbled into him, their arms pulling them together reflexively. Then his lips pressed to hers, and Victoria closed her eyes, willing her heart to latch onto this dear man. But it was difficult to concentrate when every touch brought comparisons to Mr. Dixon. Mr. Kingsley’s kiss was more than a perfunctory touch, but even as it deepened, Victoria searched for a spark of passion or delight to be found in his embrace. The motions did not differ much from those she’d shared with Mr. Dixon, yet they felt like a different beast altogether—some foreign, alien creature that did not belong in the same genus.

The kiss slowed, and the couple parted, their embrace holding them close as Victoria met Mr. Kingsley’s gaze. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it was a truth so universal that some variation of that proverb had existed for hundreds of years and across countless cultures. One’s eyes speak with a language all their own, communicating the deepest heart, and Mr. Kingsley’s were no exception. Instead of a spark of pleasure, she was met with eyes dulled by resignation and disappointment. Eyes that mirrored Victoria’s own.

“Miss Caswell, will you marry—”

“No, Mr. Kingsley.” Victoria forced the words out before she had the opportunity to rethink this hasty course of action.

Even speaking the words brought a sour turn to her stomach, but it was far less painful than the twist of guilt that struck at the thought of sacrificing Mr. Kingsley’s happiness for her family’s sake. Perhaps if she’d caught a hint of contentment in his gaze she could move forward with a marriage based on friendship, but she could not bring herself to force Mr. Kingsley to play the part of the honor-bound groom.

“I think it time we have a frank discussion,” she said, stepping back to slump onto the stone barrier lining the path.

Chapter 24

When one has kissed a young lady and proposed matrimony, one expected the young lady to accept with overflowing declarations of joy or perhaps even swoon. Though Oliver knew better than to expect the latter from Miss Caswell, a vehement denial was certainly unexpected. His jumbled thoughts attempted to grasp the situation, but these thoughts were overshadowed by the lightness that filled his chest at her refusal.

A man ought to feel distraught. Shouldn’t he?

But then again, a man ought to feel some stirring of passion when locked in a young lady’s embrace. The kiss had been pleasant enough, and there was no denying that he’d responded to it as any man would when an attractive woman threw herself in his arms, but it was lacking. Oliver hated viewing the experience in such a light, but he couldn’t deny that his response to Miss Caswell was nothing more than perfunctory.

Needing a seat, Oliver collapsed onto the wall beside Miss Caswell.

“That did not go as anticipated,” he murmured.

Miss Caswell turned her head to glance at him with raised brows, a sad smile on her lips that held more than a touch of self-mockery. The pair looked at each other for several long, silent moments before Oliver gave a huffing chuckle, and Miss Caswell joined in his low laughter.

“That was not how I had imagined this moment.” Miss Caswell drew her hands into her lap and sighed with a shake of her head.

“Then I am not alone in my confusion?”

Miss Caswell’s brows rose. “I am not confused about the kiss, but I am at a loss as to why you would propose when you love another.”

The stark words sent an itchy shiver along Oliver’s spine, and he shifted