Page 52 of My Best Friend's Earl
Connie raised one eyebrow. “So, you were curious, satisfied that curiosity, and now can move on to other things? I confess, I do that quite often as well. Fixate on one thing, get my fill, then flit off to something else.” She leaned toward him, and the skin above her neckline, skin he knew for a fact was velvety smooth, bulged above the top of her gown. Had she left off a fichu purely for his benefit? If so, he wanted to kiss her in gratitude.
Who was he kidding? He wanted to kiss her anyway. What was the question? Oliver blinked and tried to focus on something besides that delicious dip of cleavage.
“Is that common, you think? For a man to search out one last kiss before committing himself for life with another woman?”
Any tension in his breeches wilted at that. “Rather a low blow.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “But to answer your question, I’m not.”
“Not what?” Her cheerful smile struck him as slightly forced. Maybe she liked talking about his upcoming nuptials as much as he did.
To hell with it. If she was brave enough to ask direct questions, he was brave enough to answer. Besides, he owed her the truth. This might be his only chance to tell her how he felt.And hadn’t he just been wishing the day before to experience her one more time? Well, this was his opportunity. Blowing out a sigh, Oliver let go of his death grip on self-control. “I’m not satisfied. One kiss in a back room at a ball, no matter how earth-shattering it was, could never be enough to satisfy me where you’re concerned.”
“Oh…” Now she was the one with her breath whooshing out from parted lips. When she grazed her teeth over her bottom lip, he made a pained noise deep in his throat. “I thought you might regret kissing me.”
A rueful smile tilted his mouth. “My attraction to you is wildly inconvenient, given that I’m an engaged man.”
“To a woman who is actively trying to escape that marriage.”
“Have you noticed your penchant for saying uncomfortable things?”
Constance shrugged. “Uncomfortable doesn’t mean untrue. Althea doesn’t want to marry you. She’s in love with Mr. Wellsley.”
Brave, sometimes reckless woman. Instead of taking offense, he slowly reached out a hand and brushed his pinky finger over hers.
That was it. Just one finger. But the connection was enough to make his heart jolt in his chest. “I’d speculated about the attachment to Mr. Wellsley. Unfortunately, unless Wellsley has loads of money and a secret title, Sir William will continue to be a tyrant. I’ve lost more sleep over this situation than you know, and don’t see a way out. Sir William is stubborn and vindictive in nature, I’m afraid. I can’t leave Althea at his mercy.”
As he said the words, which were so familiar after frequently repeating them, he realized something. Like Althea’s father, Oliver survived by stubbornly resisting change. Onceupon a time, that dogged immovability was something he’d been proud of.
Constance’s finger wrapped around his as he drank in the sight of her creamy skin and the determined jut of her chin. How would his life be different if there’d been a place for flexibility in his life? The way she adapted to any setting, be it a bookshop or a ballroom, showed a malleability he admired. Probably because that particular trait was so absent from him.
“You know,” he began, lacing the rest of their fingers together and savoring the contact, “for my entire adult life, nearly every decision connects to my father in some way.” Constance shifted in her seat, getting comfortable. He loved that.Yes, please settle in. Even if I can’t have more days like this, talking away the hours, let me have a little more time now.
“He was an absolute bastard, so I act in the opposite way he would in any given situation. As if I’m constantly proving to myself and everyone else that I’m the better man.”
“I think you’re a good man. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have lost sleep over all of this.” She squeezed his hand, and he offered a tiny smile in thanks.
“My mother, though. I think you would have liked her. Even though she was scientific and logical, she also laughed freely and butted heads with my father without regard to decorum. She was emotional and followed her gut when it came to matters of the heart. If I’d put thought into which parent should influence my actions the most, I would have picked my mother.” Why, then, was she relevant to so few areas of his existence? The thought made his eyebrows pinch together.
Constance reached out a finger and smoothed the line until the furrow relaxed.
“Mother loved animals. Not just for their appeal as companions, but also from a zoological perspective. Pick an animal, and she could list so many facts you’d lose track of them all. Her favorite thing to do was visit menageries and animal collections.” Oliver pointed at the gorilla skull on the shelf nearby. “That specimen was her most prized possession. It’s from an adult male gorilla. You know why she loved it?” Constance raised an inquiring brow, waiting. “Because it resembles a human skull. She believed animals had more in common with us than we give them credit for. That beneath it all, we are all animals—predator and prey.”
“She was a wise woman,” Constance mused, staring at the skull.
“Yes, she was. One day, we were petting a young rhinoceros. He was quite tolerant of people. She told me that no matter how docile he might appear, he was still a rhinoceros and wild inside. Without warning, his instincts might react to something and cause harm.” Oliver stared down at their joined hands, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. Faint lines scarred her skin, and her cuticles split in several places. They were working hands. Capable fingers. Soft palms. He’d give anything to know how they felt on every inch of his body.
“My father lived by his animal nature and hurt everyone he came in contact with.” Meeting her gaze, he confessed, “Until I kissed you, I believed I lacked those primal instincts Mother warned me of. I’m ashamed to admit the lack of what she called an animal nature never worried me. Because those urges would have made the concrete state of my life impossible to maintain.”
Constance watched him, content to listen.
“That, in itself, is pretty damned telling, isn’t it? Even though it hadn’t been conscious, some part of me must haverecognized that to stay the course I’d laid out for myself, I had to forgo my father’s worst traits, and my mother’s finest.”
“For those few minutes, when emotion led your actions instead of logic, how did you feel? Did the intensity scare you?” she asked.
“I felt alive in a way I never have before. Free. I didn’t know I was capable of such depth of emotion. And now, I am examining the life I’ve created and all I see is bars. As much as I want to snarl and bite at my circumstances, I can’t change course without hurting Althea or causing irreversible damage to the lives of hardworking, honest folks depending on me for their survival.”
In his lap, Prince shifted, then stretched awake. With a rumbling sort of greeting, he padded to his feet, then jumped across to the chaise. Oliver smiled as his pet’s tiny kitten nose nudged Constance’s cheek before he continued on across the back of the chaise, then hopped to the floor.
“I’m so sorry, Constance. Fuck. Whatever this is between us, I want it desperately. Please know that. But having you means hurting innocent people.” Looking away from the understanding and disappointment in her eyes was impossible. “I… can’t.”
