“Jesus, Oliver.”
“The second kiss was Dorcas. An experiment of sorts, although I didn’t realize it at the time. Roughly a month before she eloped, she kissed me. Whatever she was looking for, she didn’t find. That, or the experience confirmed I couldn’t measure up to the man she wanted.”
Dorian shook his head. “Then this incident with Connie was entirely unprecedented. No wonder it’s weighing so heavily. May I ask, which part is most worrisome? That you kissed a woman who is not your fiancée? That she’s Althea’s friend?”
When Oliver winced, Dorian studied him closer. “Or is what’s really bothering you that you want to do it again?”
Heat suffused his body and he ran a finger under his collar, feeling a new sympathy for insects under a magnifying glass. He couldn’t push aside the truth when stated so directly. “Althea and I are not a love match, so there’s not as much guilt in that regard. Especially after Constance explained that she was delivering a message to that man from Althea.”
“Interesting. What was the message?”
“She wouldn’t say. Having seen the way that Wellsley chap watches her, I can hazard a few guesses.”
“I see. Is it their friendship, then?”
“No. Although that makes me a bastard for saying so.”
“Then you’re kicking yourself for wanting more.” A smile teased Dorian’s mouth, and Oliver didn’t have the energy to call out his friend on such blatant enjoyment of the situation.
“I lost control. Completely lost control. There was no logic or reasoning, or explainable escalation of events. It was just… boom. Like a lit fuse tossed into a barrel of gunpowder. Only far messier.”
“Those are called emotions.” Dorian was fully smiling now, and Oliver searched halfheartedly for something to throw at his head. “They can be bloody inconvenient and often terrifying, but they’re quite literally what makes life worth living.”
Rather than argue, Oliver waved away Dorian’s sarcasm like a pesky bug. “There’s no reasonable explanation for my reaction—and with Constance Martin, of all people. I have to believe it was a one-time occurrence. The… powder keg nature of one encounter isn’t reason enough to change my entire future.”
“Horseshit. One person can change everything, and you know it. You watched it happen to me—and laughed a few times, if I remember correctly. The issue is, you’ve never cared before. Didn’t you sit in this very chair and tell me about the appalling situation Sir William created and expects you to rescue him from? Even though your future and the financial stability of multiple estates are at risk, your analytical brain remained in charge. Very little emotion. The fact that Connie inspires any reaction at all warrants an examination of your plans.”
Speaking of analytical brains, Oliver needed his more than ever. “Help me find a way out of this. That’s what I need right now.”
“All right. Let’s play out each scenario.” They’d done this often over the course of their long friendship when one of them faced a difficult decision. “What happens if you cry off from the engagement?”
“Sir William throws a tantrum—which Constance saysis already happening. Althea’s knee injury keeping her from dancing? Fabricated. Her parents are only allowing her out of their sight if she’s with me. The girl’s practically living in her bedchamber. If I don’t get her out of there, they’ll take away her dowry—if we can call it such a thing—and she’s stuck under the thumb of a bully for the rest of her life.” After years with the late earl, Oliver couldn’t stomach the thought of subjecting her to such an existence. “Oh, and there’s a distinct possibility that he’ll go to debtor’s prison, leaving Althea destitute.”
“But you get the girl.” Dorian’s tone suggested he already knew Oliver wouldn’t capitulate so easily.
“If I ruin her dear friend’s future, Constance won’t want me, and for good reason. Next.”
“Sir William won’t accept a loan or sell the river instead of marrying off his spawn? You could build your canals and wiggle out of this.”
“I’ve offered. Repeatedly. Besides, if the weather doesn’t change and allow us to grow something, I might not have ready cash to make good on an offer should he change his mind.”
“You could dower her yourself, although I suppose you run into the same financial issue.”
Oliver nodded. “It might take every penny I have to keep my staff and tenants alive if this disastrous growing season continues beyond the year. Have you examined the grocer’s bills lately? Prices are already high because of tariffs, and rising because of anticipated shortages.”
“Damned, bloody Corn Laws,” the duke muttered.
“It’s going to be awful, Dorian. No one knows how long this will last, or how widespread shortages will be.”
Crops were looking dire as nature proved to be a fickle bitch this year.
“Even if the sun came out tomorrow and we miraculously salvaged our growing season, there’s another problem with throwing money at the situation. Imagine Althea’s chances at a decent match after the scandal of a broken engagement, Sir William’s histrionics and possible stint in prison, then me offering to pay literally anyone else to marry her.”
“What’s the worst that can happen if you gave in and got Connie out of your system? Assuming, of course, everyone was honest about intentions, et cetera. Hypothetically, of course.”
Memories of the heat from her core rubbing against his cock, and that nipple he’d never fully glimpsed, flashed through his mind. Oliver shifted in the chair in a futile effort to relieve the building pressure in his breeches. “In that hypothetical scenario—if I could live with myself and marry Althea after being intimate with Constance—I’d spend the rest of my life desperately wanting to fuck my wife’s dearest friend.”
Dorian winced. “No matter what, you’re spending the rest of your life in that scenario.”
