Page 20 of On a Midsummer Night
Oliver sat across a narrow table from him, a glass of brandy between his hands and his blue gaze fixed on Henry’s face. Henry fought not to squirm under his friend’s patient inspection. Oliver’s friendly and animated personality often created an impression that he was a frivolous sort of man and not to be taken seriously, an oversight Henry had seen him use to his benefit more times than he could count. If anything, he knew Oliver to be wickedly clever, observant, and able to relate to others in ways that had even the most guarded and reserved people befriending him.
Thus Henry knew better than to tell his old friend a tale that wasn’t true.
“So it’s been, what? Three years? I’ve written you Lord knows how many times, and my inquiries have gone unanswered.” Oliver furrowed his brow. “What happened, Henry?”
“My father died.” The words still hurt to say.
“I know. I sent a card of condolence. I would have gone to the funeral, but I never learned where or when it was held.”
Henry swallowed. “It was a private affair.”
“I gathered as much.” Oliver stared at him over his glass. “But that doesn’t explain your behavior afterwards.”
“Things were tumultuous after the funeral.” Henry dragged a hand down his face. What an understatement. “My only thoughts had been for my mother and Ariana. Ariana had been accepted to a music conservatory in Vienna, and my father’s death was the push she needed to go. Naturally, my mother went with her.”
“And then? Once you had them settled, you could not return my letters?”
“I did, actually.” He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the tabletop. “But I never sent them.”
“And the transfer? Why did you request to leave our division? At first, I thought it was because you wanted to design the Great Western locomotive on your own . . .” Oliver twisted his mouth. “But that wasn’t it, was it?”
Henry shook his head.
“And now you’re courting Cousin Lucy—”
“I was. I’m not anymore.”
“When Beth was right there,” Oliver continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“What does your sister have to do with this?” Henry managed to spit out, even as unease raised the hair on the back of his neck.
Oliver’s nostrils flared. “I saw the two of you in the park yesterday. Even from my vantage point, I noticed how you looked at her. How she looked at you.”
Henry refused to meet his eyes.
“And I know something happened between the two of you in Bristol. Beth would never say, but it was obvious your sudden departure, your continued silence, hurt her immensely.” Oliver clicked his tongue. “But what I don’t know is howyoufeel about her.”
Henry shook his head, unwilling—unable—to put a name to what he felt for Beth. Still.
“Henry,” his friend began, a deep sigh shuddering past his lips, “I won’t allow you to string Beth along. I’m assuming it happened once before, and it must have killed her when you courted Lucy right in front of her.”
Pressing his fingers to his temples, Henry exhaled. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your sister—”
“Yet I’m sure you did anyway. And I refuse to stand by and watch you do it again. It’s one thing for you to abandon our friendship, but it’s quite another to break my sister’s heart over and over again.”
Henry smacked his hand on the tabletop, causing the liquid in their glasses to slosh along the rims. “You make Beth sound like a simpering debutante who would be harmed by the barest hint of a bitter breeze. Beth is a tempest: powerful and awe-inspiring and capable of sucking you under before you even know which way is up.”
Oliver leaned back into his seat, his jaw going slack. “So it’s like that, then?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you damn well do.” Oliver shook his head. “You love her.”
Grasping his glass, Henry threw back the contents, hoping the burn would numb his racing thoughts. Love Beth? Of course not. He admired her. Respected her. Thought about her when he stroked his cock at night. But love . . . well, that was a step too far.
“But you did once,” his mind whispered to him.
“Christ, it’s true.” Oliver snorted before taking a drink from his glass. He wiped a hand across his mouth and pinned Henry with a stare. “Does she know?”
