Page 64 of The Last Kiss

Bewildered, rendered almost mute by this speech, Ash shook his head. “I’m afraid not, no.”

“Really? Well, Iamsurprised. But you should certainly read it, Ashleigh. It explains all about homogenic love, you see, and about the nervous strain it puts on a man when he feels afraid to express his…his tender feelings.” She gave an embarrassed smile, cheeks pinking again. “So, you see, I’m not quite so unworldly as you might imagine.”

“I — ” He cleared his throat, firming his voice. “No, I see that.”

“I do feel rather foolish not to have realised about you and West, but our patient was more of an Oscar Wilde type and I suppose I assumed all men who… Well.” She flapped her hand self-consciously. “The thing is, I do understand what it is to feel as if one doesn’t quite fit into the world.” This time, when she met his gaze, she held it for longer. “Perhaps that’s why we’ve become friends? Neither of us really fits, do we?”

Ash couldn’t answer. He hardly knew how to understand that this was possible. Olive’s embarrassed sympathy, her kindness, overwhelmed him, unlocked the howling grief in his soul. An ugly, wracking sob forced its way out of his throat. He tried to stifle it with his hand, but it was no good; the floodgates had opened, his grief couldn’t be contained.

Harry was gone. Ash would never see him again.

After a moment, he felt the bed dip and the teacup being taken from his hand. “There-there,” Olive said softly. “You poor thing.”

Wretchedly, he dropped his forehead onto her shoulder, breathing in rose-scented perfume. She stiffened but didn’t pull away. “I’m s-s-sorry f-for making such a fuss,” he rasped.

“Why shouldyoube sorry? It’sthemwho should be sorry. Blinkered old fossils keeping us all in chains and letting us go mad for want of the freedom to live our lives. They’re the ones who should be sorry, Ashleigh. Not you. Not West.” A shaky breath. “And not me.”

The first rush of release over, Ash lifted his head and wiped self-consciously at his face. Olive handed him her handkerchief and he smiled at her preparedness for every occasion. “I sh-should have been more discreet. Harry warned me. If I’d only listened.”

Olive’s lips pursed. “You shouldn’t have to be discreet, but of course...” She spread her hands, regarding him with sympathy. “How did Sir Arthur find out?”

He told her the sorry tale, her outrage on his behalf taking some of the sting from his humiliation.

“Will Sir Arthur go to the police, do you think?” she said, when he’d finished.

“I — No, I d-don’t think so. Not if he’s allowed Harry to l-leave.” That was a mercy, at least. “He’s t-too concerned about protecting Dodge’s career, you see. B-But Harry — ” His voice shook. “He’ll have been d-d-dismissed without a reference, obviously.”

“And there’s precious little work for returning servicemen as it is.”

“He has a widowed s-sister and t-two nieces...”

Olive puffed out a breath and said nothing, gazing out through the window at the summer garden. Ash supposed it must be mid-morning by now, that Olive had come calling with her mother who was no doubt wondering when and if he was going to make an honest woman of her daughter. And then a darker thought swamped him: when he married, as he’d promised he would, he’d be obliged to do his duty in the bedroom against all his inclinations. After the few precious hours of lovemaking he’d shared with Harry, the thought of intimacy with anyone else appalled him. And no doubt it would appal the poor soul he’d duped into marriage. “I can’t do it,” he blurted, tight-chested with panic. “I can’t m-marry and-and-and — ”

“Youwon’t have to.” He caught the bitterness in Olive’s voice, not aimed at him but there nonetheless. “Men have other options.”

“No, you don’t understand. I p-p-promised Father I’d marry.”

She looked aghast. “Whatever for?”

“For Harry. T-To keep him safe. I p-promised I’d be respectable.”

Olive snorted. “As if marrying some chit against your will — and probably against hers — is respectable!”

“W-what else can I do?” he said miserably. “They got into a fight. Harry s-struck my father. He could have him p-prosecuted for assault.”

“And he’s blackmailing you with the threat. Very respectable, I’m sure.” She slumped next to him. “They hold all the cards, don’t they? We don’t stand a chance.”

Not a single chance. He turned his gaze to Olive’s strong, capable profile. She should be so much more than some gentleman’s wife, she had so much to offer the world, so much talent and compassion — it was obvious to anyone who could see. And how many Olive Allens were out there, living squandered lives in servitude to their husbands? How many men like him and Harry, unable to express their love without fear? Olive had once said she’d rather die than marry and he understood now how trapped she felt. Rich or poor, it made no difference. A gilded cage was still a cage. “It can’t last,” he said, grinding the words like gravel between his teeth.

“What can’t?”

“This. All of it. In Russia — ”

Olive snorted. “We’ve never been much of a country for revolution, Ashleigh.”

That was a depressing truth. He studied Olive’s pensive expression, the firm set of her jaw and the bright intelligence of her eyes. A question occurred. “Do you — ?” He floundered, unsure whether he dared ask. In response to his silence, Olive turned her head, regarding him with a quizzical lift of her eyebrows. “D-Do you, perhaps, have a...an intimate friend? S-someone who means to you w-what West means to me?”

Her expression altered, neither wistful nor offended. “I have friends,” she said after some thought. “I count you as one of them, Ashleigh. But I find the idea of bedroom matters repellent. Affection, yes, for a dear friend, but I want nothing…intimate. With anyone.”

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