Page 156 of The Unlikely Pair

Harry

When I return to the hall, my eyes immediately seek out Toby, my chest constricting when I see he’s beside Oliver Hartwell.

I know Oliver is happily married to Prince Callum, but knowing Toby can be by Oliver’s side and no one will bat an eye still hollows my stomach. If he came to join me in my circle of aristocrats and Tory MPs, there would be many raised eyebrows.

I want Toby next to me. I want his snarky contributions to the conversations swirling around me now.

I just wanthim.

He left abruptly from the library, just as I was about to express my swirling feelings. But perhaps it is for the best. I’m not sure if articulating our current situation will be of any benefit.

Toby’s face looks troubled as he has a brief conversation with Oliver. Oliver’s gaze moves to me, a scowl etched upon his features.

I tense. I suspect Oliver Hartwell’s eagle eyes didn’t miss the fact Toby and I were out of the room at the same time. Has he discerned what is going on between us?

Nausea churns inside me. I’m fairly confident Oliver Hartwell will keep Toby’s secrets for him. He will not betray his friend even to score a victory over me.

But it just reinforces that I’m dabbling with fire by continuing anything with Toby.

However, I really don’t think I possess the strength to resist him.

I tear my eyes from Oliver’s knowing gaze, trying to regain my composure.

The night lingers on. My mother makes her excuses to depart early, but my father remains by my side, talking strategy with a circle of longtime friends and allies, their laughter ringing out above the din of the crowd. The mood among the Conservatives is upbeat, the feeling that power is within our grasp.

I force a smile, attempting to engage in the banter, but my gaze is constantly drawn back to Toby, who seems deeply engrossed in conversation with Oliver.

I have such an overwhelming longing to know the subject of their discussion.

The banquet hall begins to empty, the sound of footsteps and muted conversations echoing off the high ceilings as guests depart.

I watch as Toby embraces Oliver and Prince Callum before heading towards the coat check. I quickly disentangle myself from my group and make my way towards him, my heart racing with each step.

I cannot allow Toby to leave without saying goodbye. I simply want to talk to him again, hear his voice, even if it is merely engaging in benign small talk.

The coat check is located in a small antechamber off the main hall, with staff efficiently sorting through the racks of coats and handing them back to their owners. I navigate the spacewith purpose, dodging the other guests as I close the distance between Toby and myself.

Toby is shrugging into his coat, fastening the buttons.

“Is that a new coat?” I ask as I sidle up to him.

Toby turns, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, it’s probably not surprising my old one turned out to be unsalvageable. The dry cleaner almost fainted in horror when he saw it.”

“It looks warm,” I say.

“It turns out I have a new appreciation for the value of a warm coat.”

An assistant comes up with my own coat, and I slide it on.

“There are many things I have a new appreciation for since I came back,” I say as I button my coat.

Toby inhales sharply but meets my gaze squarely. “Like central heating, right? I know how much you enjoy being warm.”

“Ah, but there’s something to be said for the ambiance a fire provides,” I say.

“Yes, you can’t underestimate the ambiance generated by a real fire,” Toby agrees, a small grin creeping onto his face. I can’t help grinning back.

It’s sous. I’m feeling lightheaded, breathless, by the rightness of this. This banter between us, the quick-witted back-and-forth that Toby and I have always had, one that often masks a deeper layer of meaning, a secret language that belongs solely to us.