desperately wanted to give—but then rational thought made itself known, recalling precisely why that mightn’t be the best decision.
“And what of your family’s objections?” she asked.
*
When he was ten years old, Oliver took a nasty fall from a horse. Having ridden from a young age, it wasn’t the first time he’d taken a tumble, but that time was particularly painful and terrifying. Having struck the ground, pain shot through him, but that was quickly overshadowed when his lungs seized. His breath was gone, and no matter how he struggled, Oliver could not fill them again. Though it had taken only a few seconds for them to work once more, that time had seemed to stretch into minutes and hours as he’d lain there, fighting for breath.
Miss Sophie’s question had much the same effect.
“What do you know of that?” he finally asked.
Her lids lowered, and though she slackened her hold on his hand, she did not release him—not that Oliver would have given up so easily. Not now.
“Your sister told me of your parents’ objections.”
As both of his hands were occupied, Oliver could not give in to the impulse to run them through his hair. He settled for scowling. “Lily is too free with her words.”
Miss Sophie’s expression hardened, her eyes turning to flint. “Do not speak of her in that manner. Lily is a dear young lady, and I find her conversation lively and engaging. Do not curtail it—”
“Peace,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I did not mean to raise your ire.”
She dropped her gaze, and her already pinked cheeks deepened in color. “I apologize, but I do not like hearing her criticized so. Even from you.”
There was something in her tone and words that hinted at their significance. “What are you not telling me?”
That had Miss Sophie meeting his gaze once more. “It’s not my secret to tell.”
Though her answer did not give Oliver any peace on that score, he did not push matters. “So, what did Lily tell you?”
Miss Sophie lifted one shoulder in a gentle shrug. “That our parents have a history—though I surmised that from simply watching them—and that your parents do not wish you and her to associate with my family.”
“An edict Lily began ignoring some days ago, and you had no qualms with that or my own overtures of friendship,” he replied.
“That is hardly the same as courting, Mr. Kingsley.”
Courting. Whereas that word had held a more sedate meaning when referring to Miss Caswell, Oliver’s heart thumped a happy rhythm at hearing it tied to Miss Sophie.
“I readily agree, but although I allowed my parents’ opinions to sway me in the past, I’ve come to understand that I cannot give my heart to a lady simply because my parents wish it.” Holding her gaze, Oliver allowed his heart to push him to greater heights, the growing certainty gleaming in his eyes as he spoke.
Miss Sophie released his hand, walking away from the safety of the tree. Rain pelted down on her as she put space between them. “I have watched your family together, Mr. Kingsley. You do not understand how blessed you are to have such love and support, and I shan’t allow you to risk an irreparable fracture for me. That is too high a price—”
“Nonsense. And come back here or you will catch your death.” Snatching up her hand once more, Oliver dragged her back beneath the canopy.
“We hardly know each other, Mr. Kingsley.”
Oliver fought against the scowl threatening to surface. No wonder Miss Caswell had been so ready to bludgeon him when he was spouting such ridiculous things. Miss Sophie’s dress was not soaked through, but she was wet enough to elicit a few shivers. Though it was uncouth to go about in his shirtsleeves, Oliver shucked his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
“You need your jacket,” she protested.
Oliver rubbed her arms, hoping to warm them more rapidly, though it brought them closer together as well. “I feel no chill with you near.”
Miss Sophie pulled the fabric close and met his gaze with such hope.
“I am willing to try,” he said. “If we cannot overcome this final hurdle, that is one thing. But this is too important to let it slip away.”
Propriety warred with desire, the one warning Oliver to put some space between them while the other begged him to sweep her into his embrace. The former’s voice was little more than a whisper, but the strength of its objections was enough to keep him in check. Miss Sophie