Page 28 of Deceiving an Earl
Because it was everything that Ellen’s parents wanted for her and it was everything that Ellen did not want. Not now. Not yet. She had plans.
She swallowed and stabbed her spoon repeatedly into the ice until it was mush.
Oliver put his hand over hers, and she froze. It was the first time they had touched other than Oliver helping her off her mount or the occasional brush of arms.
His hand was warm, the pads of his fingers rough.
He was staring at her intently. At first she’d been very much aware of the other patrons in the establishment. Now she saw nothing but the deep azure of Oliver’s eyes.
“Why so serious?” he asked.
She shrugged, suddenly shy when she’d never been shy with him before.
She released her spoon, and it clinked as it hit the glass bowl. “Do you ever want more out of life than this?”
He sat back, his hand sliding off hers. She wanted to grab it, hang on to it, put it back over her hand, and keep it there. “More than what? Ices at Gunter’s with you? No.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “More than what life has given us.”
He drew in a deep breath and seemed to think about her question. “We’re lucky, you know. Born into the lives we have. Wealth. Social connections. Access to an education, if you are male.”
She waved her hand in the air. “Yes, yes.”
“What more could you want?”
“It just all seems so…small. We see the same people every day, walk the same streets, attend the same balls, plays.”
“You are far too young to be this jaded,” he said.
She blew out a frustrated breath. He wasn’t understanding what she was trying to tell him.
“What more do you want?” he asked.
“I want to meet people. I want to expand my life, to learn things.” She leaned forward. He was watching her intently, honestly listening to what she was saying, and the idea was so novel, so exciting, that someone was truly listening to what she had to say. “Do you attend the opera? Plays?”
“Of course. That’s hardly expanding your horizons.”
She shook her head. “Do you ever look at the actors, the performers, the musicians? I mean, really look at them? Do you ever wonder who they are? What they do after a performance? Who are their friends? How did they get into this line of work?”
He tilted his head. “I can’t say that I’ve ever thought any of that.”
“There is a whole world of people out there and we converse with the same ones over and over. Why? Why can’t we make friends from the theater? Because there is some unwritten rule that says we can’t? That’s silly.”
He blinked, then blinked again. “You’re right. We ostracize ourselves and by doing so we are hurting only ourselves.”
She pounded her open palm on the table, making the silver spoons in the glass bowls rattle. A couple at the next table paused their conversation to stare at them.
“Finally, someone who understands,” she said.
“Is that what you want to do? Meet new and interesting people?”
“Yes,” she breathed, excited by the prospect. “Do you know any of those people?”
“No.”
Her shoulders deflated. “Oh.”
He leaned forward and took her hands in his and stared deep into her eyes. “But if you were my wife, I would not stop you from befriending such people.”
