Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love Book 3)

by M. A. Nichols

  Elijah snatched her up in another kiss, clearing her mind of all thought and leaving her awash in the glow of his love filling her. Her heart expanded, matching the fervent adoration he showed with every touch. Only after she was so caught up in him that she could hardly remember her name did he release her lips.

  “I will not listen to you verbally flog yourself for what has been,” he said with narrowed eyes.

  “But—”

  He held true to his promise by silencing her words with another kiss.

  “There is no need to bemoan the past, my love,” he whispered, that wicked grin of his emerging again. “You are an intelligent creature, and I knew you’d come to your senses in time.”

  Victoria’s brows rose. “You did?”

  Elijah’s grin twisted with an edge of anxiety. “No, but I hoped, and all that matters is that we are together now.”

  “Forevermore,” she whispered, and before Elijah could say another word, Victoria pressed her lips to his.

  Chapter 41

  “Are you certain we shouldn’t have sent a carriage?” asked Mother, coming to stand beside Oliver. The pair stared out the library window in the direction of Hardington Hall. From this distance, they couldn’t see the building, but they were afforded a clear view of the path Sophie was most likely to take.

  “She prefers to walk,” he replied, though he was regretting that decision.

  “I’m certain she will arrive soon,” said Lily from her place on the sofa.

  Turning, Oliver looked at his sister, whose gaze was fixed on the book in her hands though her attention was elsewhere. Despite the joyful prospect of an afternoon with Sophie, his heart dropped in his chest at the sight of Lily’s red eyes. Though she had kept the majority of her tears locked in her bedchamber over the past two days, there was no hiding the evidence of them.

  Lily looked up at him and gave him a weak approximation of a smile, and Oliver gave her one back, but she shook away the sympathy and shut her book with a snap. The sound drew Mother’s attention, and the lady withdrew from the window and took the seat beside her daughter.

  “I am well, Mama,” said Lily, though the words would be more convincing without the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  Mother wrapped an arm around Lily’s shoulders and drew her daughter close. “Of course you are, my darling.” Then, turning her gaze to Oliver, she added, “Perhaps you ought to meet her partway. I would feel more at ease if she had an escort.”

  Sophie knew the path between Avebury Park and Hardington Hall as surely as any native of the area, but Oliver needed no prodding. With quick steps, he strode from the library and out the front door. Making his way across the lawn, he turned in the general direction of the Nelsons’ home, hoping she was not coming via another route. Perhaps she’d gone out for one final drawing and was nowhere near Hardington Hall.

  The light was golden, sparkling off the dewy blades of grass, those droplets serving as the only remnant of the morning mists. The sun warmed his jacket while the autumn air bit at his nose, giving that perfect blend of warmth and chill. The world was quiet, for the insects were dormant while the birds huddled in their nests; not even the slightest breeze broke the stillness.

  The distance grew between him and Avebury Park, and he found himself worrying that his path may not cross with Sophie’s. There was precious little time left for them, and Oliver couldn’t stand the thought of wasting any of it in a fruitless search. But even as he wondered if he ought to return home, he spied Sophie cresting a hill. Oliver found himself caught between wishing to race to her side and admiring the sight of her.

  The sunlight shone off the gold in her hair, and her cheeks were pink from the walk and the growing autumn chill, giving her complexion a perfect rosy hue. Her smile was broad and beaming as she saw him, her bright eyes sparkling in the morning sun. Though dressed in a simple muslin gown with no ornamentation, Oliver swore there was no lovelier lady. Her formal finery at the ball had been attractive, indeed, but this was the Sophie he loved, and this was where she belonged.

  His feet finally prodded his lagging wits to move, and Oliver took a few hurried steps towards her and scooped her into his arms. With a quick kiss in greeting, he released her, taking her hand in his as the pair turned their steps towards home.

  “I am sorry for my tardiness,” said Sophie. “Mama insisted I oversee the packing of my trunks.”

  Oliver’s steps faltered. “But you do not leave until tomorrow.”

  Sophie’s gaze dimmed at that pronouncement, matching the weightiness in Oliver’s chest at having spoken the words.

  “I believe Mama was simply making excuses to keep me from coming,” said Sophie.

  Oliver’s eyes widened. “Does she disapprove of me?”

  Stepping closer, Sophie squeezed his hand and bumped his shoulder with hers. “I believe it is your mother of whom she disapproves. Or rather that I enjoy her company so very much.”

  Brows pulled tight together, Oliver drew her to a stop and faced her. “Should I be worried?”

  Sophie shook her head, resting her free hand on his chest. “It is unpleasant but not insurmountable. I believe Mama is jealous of all her daughters in some form or another. She was equally unpleasant when my sisters received gentlemen callers.” She paused, leaning her head to the side as she considered it. “Perhaps she is a little more so because of the history between our parents, but it is of no concern.”

  Oliver looked at her hand as her fingers ran along the edges of his lapels. Bringing up his free hand, he laid it atop hers. “How am I to bear your absence?”

  Her expression tightened, her lips trembling as she stared at his collar. “We will make do.”

  Oliver dropped his head, thinking over all the many times he had contemplated this parting. “Will we?”

  “Can we not try?”

  The tremulous question had his head raising again to meet Sophie’s gaze, but her eyes were fixed on his chest. With a gentle finger, Oliver nudged her chin upwards, forcing her gaze to his. He’d pondered this moment, imagining what he would do, and one course of action returned to his thoughts again and again. Though he’d intended to wait a while longer, this moment felt all too right to ignore.

  “I did not mean for us to surrender,” he murmured with a tender smile. “But I cannot stand the thought of us parting on such uncertain footing. At present, I cannot even write to you without raising eyebrows.”

  Sinking to his knees, Oliver gazed at his Sophie, her sweet hand clasped in his. “I’ve wanted to speak to you about this so many times, but I feared you would think me impetuous. Our time together may be of short duration, but I feel as though I know your heart as well as my own.”

  Turning her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “Will you—?”

  Sophie interrupted his words by launching herself into his arms, nearly taking them both to the ground. Her lips connected with his and Oliver reveled in her love. He’d never known his heart could be so full, and it thumped against his chest, beating in time with his dear Sophie’s.

  “Am I to assume that is a ‘yes’?” he whispered.

  But Sophie’s wide smile was the only answer she gave, and Oliver’s grew to match hers. Releasing her, he grabbed a blade of grass from the field and lifted her left hand, twisting the strip of green around her ring finger.

  “You deserve a proper ring, but I haven’t had the opportunity—”

  “It’s perfect,” she said, leaning into him as he tied the knot. Weaving their fingers together, Sophie shifted to his side so she could lean her head against his shoulder.

  Resting his head against hers, Oliver pressed a kiss to her hair and whispered, “I couldn’t agree more.”

  If not for the fact that his family was expecting, Oliver would’ve remained precisely where they were. But knowing that the ties binding them were more than those of a mere courtship gave him a sense of peace over the impending separation. Neither of their hearts or intentions were in any
doubt.

  Though they passed several moments enjoying the bliss of their engagement, there was only so much time they could spend there together before his parents sent out a search party. Helping his espoused to her feet, Oliver pressed one more kiss to her cheek before tucking her arm through his and meandering home; his family may be waiting, but that did not mean he had to hurry.

  Leading Sophie through the front door, Oliver spared a moment to imagine the day when he would bring his wife home—to their home. Sophie gave him a beaming smile, and he wondered if she were picturing it as well, but they arrived in the parlor before he could ask and found not only his family but Miss Caswell and Mr. Dixon.

  “Mr. Kingsley,” said Miss Caswell, as the whole group came to their feet in greeting. “I am so glad to have caught you. I was afraid we’d not see you before my family leaves for London.”

  Taking Mr. Dixon by the arm, she glanced at the gentleman with a beaming smile.

  “Am I to assume all has resolved itself to your satisfaction?” asked Oliver with a grin of his own. The question was quite redundant, for the young lady clung to Mr. Dixon’s arm, her eyes glittering with a joy he’d never seen before from her.

  “We have not announced anything formally as of yet,” she said with a coy tone.

  “Congratulations!” said Sophie, pulling free to embrace Miss Caswell. And with that, the group erupted in equal measure, giving embraces and handshakes all around.

  Oliver reached Mr. Dixon, giving him a hearty shake and slap of his shoulder, with all the earnest words of gratitude and congratulations he could give. And when he worked his way through the hubbub to Miss Caswell, he felt at a loss to convey all he felt at that moment.

  “This house party has not turned out at all as I had expected,” she said with a laugh.

  Oliver gave her a tender smile. “But I cannot imagine a better resolution. Despite our best efforts, we’ve found our perfect matches.”

  Miss Caswell chuckled again and nodded. Turning so she stood beside him, the pair looked out at the others, who were gathered around Mr. Dixon and Sophie. “I never imagined I could be so happy.”

  “And your family?” Oliver slanted her a look.

  Miss Caswell’s expression grew troubled, though the light in her eyes never dimmed. “Miriam and my mother do not agree with my choice, but I’ve accepted that there is no resolution to please us all. I am at peace with it.”

  “Then I am doubly happy for you and Mr. Dixon,” said Oliver.

  She cast a look in his direction. “And what of your Miss Banfield?”

  Oliver raised his brows in mock innocence. “What of her?”

  Miss Caswell’s eyes narrowed, and he gave her a rascally grin in return.

  “As it happens, we have an announcement of our own,” he said, stepping away from Miss Caswell to take Sophie’s hand.

  *

  Sophie gazed into Oliver’s eyes, feeling such a mixture of peace and joy that she wished she could spend the rest of her life lost in this moment. The warmth in her heart expanded as she realized she would, for their futures were bound together. Raising her hand to place a kiss on their makeshift ring, Oliver held her in his gaze as he announced their engagement to the room.

  No matter how she wished to stay right in that place, the others insisted on commandeering their attention for all the proper congratulations, and Sophie was passed from person to person until she stood before Mrs. Kingsley. Eyes bright with unshed tears, the lady enfolded Sophie into her arms.

  “I am so happy for you both,” she whispered. “And I am honored to have you as part of our family, Sophie.”

  Questions flew concerning the wedding, but those were unimportant details. A sliver of sorrow worked its way into her heart at the thought of her departure the next day, but that was yet another meaningless nothing. Returning to Oliver, Sophie leaned into him, reveling in the feel of him at her side, and reminded herself that no matter how many days or weeks they may be apart, the next time she returned to Avebury Park she would be Sophia Kingsley.

  Sophie turned her gaze to meet Oliver’s, wishing she had the words to describe the feelings coursing through her, but there was no need. For in Oliver’s eyes she saw the same unending joy reflected there, matching hers with equal fervor. Their love. Their family. Their home.

  Epilogue

  London

  Six months later

  With a pen tucked behind her ear, Victoria stared at the array of papers before her. The notes were a veritable mess, though each made perfect sense to her. Menus, guest lists, seating arrangements, each spread across the writing table as she crossed out and added to each.

  Holding up her page with the table setting, Victoria snatched a nearby book and flipped through the pages that displayed various arrangements. While the Russian style of dining was gaining popularity, Victoria couldn’t bring herself to eschew the French. There was something wonderful about seeing all the dishes together on the table, and it seemed such a shame to hamper the cook’s culinary art; a meal was enjoyed with one’s eyes first, after all. And yet, there was a benefit to having the courses presented one at a time.

  Victoria leaned back from her book, tapping her finger against the desk. Staring out the parlor window, she watched the clogged street, the horses and carriages fighting for space on the narrow lane while people wove between them. The clomps of horseshoes against cobblestones and the shouts of vendors peddling their wares echoed through the glass panes.

  Having lived on Cardham Lane for some months now, Victoria had grown used to the chaos outside her front door, but at times it struck her just how different her life was now. She’d always thought herself good with words, yet whenever she attempted to describe her present felicity, Mama never seemed to understand. That lady’s childhood had been spent traveling between the many grand estates her noble family owned, and in her eyes, Victoria’s pokey flat was not much better than the slums of East End.

  Serenity settled into Victoria’s bones, testifying again that this was where she was meant to be. True, it might be a year or two before they could afford even a maid-of-all-work, but Victoria no longer flinched when a bill arrived. For all that she and her husband had to be prudent with their finances, it was a fraction of the worry her parents felt on a constant basis.

  But gathering wool was not going to help her decide on table dressings.

  Victoria turned her attention back to her notes and threw herself into her work. Sometime later, the front door opened, and footsteps sounded in the hall as Elijah called out to her. She cast a quick glance and smile toward him as he entered and returned her attention to her notes.

  “I spent several hours this morning with Mr. Flemming’s housekeeper and cook,” she said, nodding at the pages as Elijah came to stand over her. “We’ve settled on a menu for the dinner, and I believe I have sorted out the seating arrangement. I think it best if we place Mr. Barrymore next to Mrs. Macklemore, for it would be impossible for him to remain unmoved by education reform with her at his side all dinner. But I’m finding it more difficult to place Mrs. Ferris…”

  Victoria’s words faded as lips brushed against her neck.

  “How am I to concentrate when you are bothering me?” she asked in a pert tone. But Elijah merely huffed, his breath tickling her skin, and placed another kiss beside the first.

  “I must get this done today, sir.”

  “And I am certain you will, madam,” he whispered, brushing his fingers across her shoulder.

  Victoria had thought herself well versed in all things Elijah, but the months following their marriage had only deepened her understanding and adoration of this dear man. And they had taught her that there was no fighting him when he was of a mind to distract her. Not that she wished to.

  Rising to her feet, Victoria turned and wrapped her arms around him. “You are a terrible nuisance at times.”

  Elijah’s lids lowered with that wicked grin of his. “I hope I always am.”

  He
leaned in, but Victoria pulled back as she recalled what she’d intended to tell him. “The invitation arrived today.”

  Ignoring the distance she’d tried to maintain, Elijah drew close and feathered kisses along her jaw. “From whom?”

  Victoria closed her eyes and sighed as his arms wrapped around her. She adored his cologne so much that she’d taken to smelling it when he was away on business, though it never smelled quite as good on its own as it did on him.

  But then she recalled that he’d asked her a question, and she sifted through her fuzzy thoughts. “What?”

  Elijah straightened, his eyes glowing with mirth as he gazed upon his wife. “You mentioned an invitation.”

  Blinking, Victoria cleared her head and nodded. “From Oliver Kingsley. He wrote especially to invite us to stay with his family and attend the wedding next month. Sophie has decided to marry from Avebury Park, which is fortunate, as it shan’t be too difficult to slip away even with Parliament in session…”

  But it was impossible for her to continue speaking of such subjects—however happy they may be—when Elijah’s blue eyes sparked and glowed with such happiness. Victoria was awed and humbled at the thought that she would spend the rest of her life gazing into them.

  “I love you, dear husband of mine,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his.

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