Page 19 of On a Midsummer Night
Henry shifted in his seat next to her, and she glanced at him from the corner of her gaze. He was wearing his mask of indifference again, but Beth fancied she could detect his tells now.
And apparently, so could Oliver, for he spread his hands on the tabletop and said, “I’m sorry to learn of your father’s passing, Henry. I can only imagine how difficult that was. Your family was always so close.”
His throat worked for a long moment. “We were. Much has changed.”
Oliver arched his brow. “I’m sure. But I bet your sister Ariana is still a stunner.”
Henry’s scowl was so fierce Beth had to press a napkin to her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“I meant no disrespect, and you know it.” Turning first to Beth and then Lucy, he explained, “His younger sister, Ariana, was still in the schoolroom when I met her. Just four-and-ten, maybe?” Oliver looked at Henry in question.
“That sounds right,” he said reluctantly.
“Henry had invited me to his parents’ house for supper, and after a delicious meal, his mother asked Ariana to sing for us.” Oliver clutched a hand to his chest dramatically. “Imagine my surprise, if you will, when this wee girl opened her mouth, and this soaring aria sprang forth from her lips. She was a revelation.”
Beth darted her gaze to Henry to find him staring at the tabletop, a soft sort of smile on his lips. A pleased smile. A proud smile. The sight made her chest tight.
“I hope she’s studying at a conservatory now,” Oliver said, “for she is much too talented to save her voice for dinner parties or musicales with tone-deaf cousins.”
Henry snorted before bursting into a full-throated laugh. He propped an elbow on the table and hid his face behind his hand, even while his shoulders shook.
“Oh dear, is it you who’s tone-deaf?” Oliver shook his head mournfully. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I offer my condolences for the burden you bear.”
“Surely you remember what an excellent dancer Henry was,” Beth interjected with a tsk. “A feat that would be impossible if he were truly tone-deaf.”
Her brother cocked his head to the side. “I don’t remember, actually. But it seems as if you do.”
Her toes curled in her slippers, but Beth worked to hold Oliver’s gaze. “I seem to recall that he cut quite a swath.”
Beth dared not glance at Henry, for she knew that one look from him would crumble her carefully erected composure.
“Well, I think you are being entirely too kind to Henry here. I heard him sing more than one railroad song whilst deep in his cups—”
“Faith, Dalton, I’m more relieved than I can say that you are as ridiculous as you ever were.”
Swallowing back a chuckle, Beth considered the two men. While she had been heartbroken when Henry had fled Bristol with no word or warning, so had Oliver too. The men had shared a fast friendship, and her brother had been left confused and disillusioned, not only by Henry’s abrupt departure but the manner in which he severed all ties after that visit. Seeing them laughing and joking with each other now sent warmth curling through her body.
The rest of their lunch passed in the same jovial manner, with Oliver cracking witty and silly jokes and Henry responding with clever rejoinders. Beth interjected with her remarks and observations at times, but mostly she was content to allow the two friends time to reconnect. Even Lucy seemed pleased to follow Henry and Oliver’s volleys as a spectator, sensing the moment was important for the pair. And whatever Lucy might feel for Henry, Beth appreciated that her cousin did not make lunch uncomfortable and continued to treat him pleasantly.
“Beth.”
She startled at Oliver’s voice, her gaze immediately finding his.
“I was reminiscing with Henry about that party we attended at the Rochesters’ when he visited us in Bristol. Do you remember it?”
Flashes of memory sped through her mind. Henry, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush with his chest, his cologne wafting about her in a hypnotic cloud. The way he’d tucked his face into that sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, causing her to tremble. How he’d spoken an oath against her skin before his lips had claimed hers.
Beth couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Henry. Could he replay that night in his mind? Did he recall his vow? And how he’d broken it as if he had not branded it on her heart?
His dark eyes met hers. Held hers, and in their depths, she knew the truth.
“Of course, I remember,” she finally responded. “How could I forget?”
Chapter Seven
Oliver agreed to meet Henry the next day at the gentlemen’s club he had joined the year before. It had seemed prudent to establish himself as a worthy representative of the railway to speculators and one the board of directors had approved of. Henry had hosted any number of investor meetings there, describing his design for the locomotive and answering questions pertaining to the timing and efficiency he and his team had calculated.
Henry had not expected it to be the location where he bared his deepest secrets.
