Chapter Three
The scent of warm bread and honey drifted lazily through the breakfast room. Sarah sat at the table, her plate mostly untouched and her tea cooling as she watched the door with quiet expectation.
“She’s not coming.” Oliver offered from his place at the sideboard as he poured himself a generous cup of coffee. “She has seen the guest list and decided that we are not worth the effort.”
“At least one of us,” Matthew murmured over the rim of his cup, slowly taking a sip of his tea.
Oliver slid into his seat at the table as he smiled and raised his cup toward Matthew in a mock salute.
He was fully aware that his presence was the reason behind Lady Rockwell’s absence; the mystery was why he cared.
Sarah shot them a look proving that, despite the early hour, she was already thoroughly exasperated with them both. “She is just slow in the morning.”
“She is a ghost in the morning,” Matthew whispered absent-mindedly, stabbing at his eggs. Oliver grinned, “Ah, the elusive Lady Rockwell. Perhaps she requires a summoning charm.”
“She requires time,” Sarah said gently, though her eyes carried a warning.
Before Oliver could respond, the door opened and Grace entered.
She was undeniably breathtaking—but the coldness in her eyes struck him like an unexpected frost attempting to smother the first signs of spring.
Her gaze flickered around over the room, settling everywhere but on him, as she took the seat furthest from Oliver without a word.
“Good morning,” Sarah offered, her voice soft and hopeful. Grace nodded once in her direction, “Good morning.”
Oliver could have left her alone—he could have left them all to eat their breakfast in peace—but what would be the fun in that?
“You missed the sunrise,” he said, and her gaze rose to meet his. “It was absolutely stunning, much like myself, if I may say so.”
Grace blinked at him slowly. Sarah stared at him with a mixture of mortification and amusement. Matthew didn’t even bother to hide his smirk.
Oliver leaned back in his chair, completely undeterred by her lack of response. “I admire your restraint. My charm overcomes most people by breakfast.”
“Most people are fools,” Grace replied coolly, rising to fill her plate, or perhaps it was just an attempt to put more distance between them. Oliver stole a glance at Matthew, whose entire expression was a reminder to tread lightly.
Unfortunately, Oliver’s good sense wasn’t quick enough to keep pace with his mouth. “Well, thank heavens you are here to raise the average intelligence in the room.”
Grace slid back into her chair, not even sparing him a glance. “You are remarkably chatty for someone who contributes so little.” She remarked, cutting into her food with much more force than necessary.
Matthew choked on his tea, and Sarah set her fork down with a loud clink. “We were thinking of going riding this morning,” she interjected before Oliver could retort. “It would not be far, just around the grounds. It is a beautiful day.”
Grace’s knife paused mid-air. “You three go ahead.”
“Oh, come now,” Oliver drawled. “You can not possibly hide in your chambers all summer. Surely the horses would appreciate your company more than your walls do.”
“I would rather be trampled by a horse than endure an entire morning in your presence.” Oliver’s eyes glimmered in satisfaction. “Death by stampede; sounds poetic.”
“It sounds tempting,” Grace muttered.
“If you insist on martyrdom, might I suggest a slightly nobler method? Drowning while rescuing a kitten, perhaps?”
Grace set her teacup down with a sharp thud. “I would rather drown you,” she said, her voice rising just enough to betray the crack in her resolve. Sarah shifted in her seat, resting a calming hand on her friend’s arm. “Grace…”
“I do not wish to go riding,” Grace snapped, rising abruptly. “I do not wish for company, and I certainly do not wish to sit here while Lord Blackburn prattles on like a parrot.”
Oliver’s smirk deepened. “Shall I squawk for you? Would that better meet your expectations?”
She took a steadying breath, eyes no void of ice and full of fire, locked on his.
“Allow me to make myself perfectly clear, Lord Blackburn—I do not wish to speak to you again for the remainder of the summer.”
Oliver’s smirk faltered as her words struck with unexpected weight.
The room seemed to shrink around them, and a small twinge of regret settled in his chest. He had only meant to draw her out, to rekindle some of the spark he had glimpsed the first time they met, but the pain in her eyes told him he had gravely miscalculated. “Your wish is my command.”
Grace turned and stormed out of the room. Sarah shot Oliver a look far more threatening than he ever imagined she could muster before hurrying after Grace.
The room fell into complete silence, and Oliver stared down at his untouched plate. “That went rather well, don’t you think?”
Matthew rose from the table and gestured towards the door. “Walk with me, Ollie.” Oliver sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, wondering if he ought to have taken those whispered tales of fiery-tempered Scotsmen more seriously.
They walked in silence past the stables, the early morning air already heavy with the heat of early summer.
Oliver was not a man easily made uncomfortable; years of pretending not to care what people thought of him had ensured that.
But every moment that Matthew refused to speak made something beneath his skin prickle.
“I do hope this isn’t about the eggs,” Oliver finally broke the silence the only way he knew how. “I know they were overcooked, and I take full responsibility for distracting your cook this morning.”
Matthew stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “Do you ever stop talking?”
Oliver grinned, completely unfazed. “Not voluntarily.”
Matthew rubbed a hand across his jaw, his gaze narrowing as if weighing mercy against murder.
Matthew Fenwick was not a man easily provoked.
He had the patience of a saint and the heart to match, but even saints had limits, and Oliver had a sneaking suspicion that Matthew was dangerously close to his. “You pushed Grace too hard, Oliver.”
Oliver’s smile flickered, but it didn’t vanish completely. “You are quite protective of her.”
Matthew didn’t back down, his gaze steady and unflinching. “She is family.”
“I know.” Oliver’s voice softened. He noticed the muscle in Matthew’s jaw tick—the grief he knew had been kept so neatly in check since Grace arrived, threatened to break through.
“She lost her entire world when Benjamin died.”
Oliver lifted his chin slightly. “I know.” The words came out slow, weighed down by the truth of how well Oliver did understand Grace’s pain.
Matthew’s posture softened, “Oliver…”
Oliver braced himself, not for anger, but for something far, far worse—heartfelt sincerity.
“You have been my closest friend since we lost Ben. You kept me sane when I wanted to crawl into the ground. You taught me more about being a landowner in six months than anyone has in my entire life.”
Oliver looked away, swallowing the emotion that threatened to rise in his throat.
“You have been more loyal, generous, and constant than most men I have known. You hide it well, but I see who you really are.”
Oliver forced out a dry, brittle laugh. “Careful Fenwick, you’ll ruin my reputation.”
"Blast your reputation,” he muttered. “I care about you, not your facade.” His hand lifted, pressing a firm finger to Oliver’s chest. “But I will throw you out without a moment of hesitation if you continue to distress Grace. I am not asking for miracles, just civility.”
Oliver blinked in surprise. “You are serious?”
“I am always serious, you just never seem to notice.” They stood there for a moment, two old friends and the invisible ghost between them.
Finally, Oliver gave a short nod. “I will be civil. I will be boring. I will not flirt, provoke, or incite fury.”
“You can still speak.”
“Oh, good,” Oliver said with mock relief. “I was beginning to worry.”
Matthew cracked a faint smile as he slung his arm around Oliver’s shoulder, turning them back towards the house. “I am glad you are here, Ollie. This summer certainly won’t be boring.”
Oliver kicked a loose stone with his boot. “You always were far too decent for a world like this, Matty.”
“And you’ve always pretended not to be.”