Just to Have You (Blackwood & Friends #3)

Prologue

He blew out his cheeks at that. Griff did have somewhat of a point. Haventry, a small eccentric village surrounding Gravewood Park embodied a humour only the blunt side of a plank of wood would find funny (none at all) and was only renowned for its Late Harvest Apple Orchard Festival in honour of the sturdy fruit that some of the townsfolk grew in abundance in the vast, surrounding orchards. The fall months would be inundated with anything apple-related to the extent that he had once even been compelled to don a malodorous item of clothing made from fermenting apple peels. The people were profoundly and extensively proud of this heritage and namesake... making it all the more droll and dull to reside in such a place. It was a tiny and rather uneventful village, and everybody knew everybody's business, including his, and everybody knew that Oliver was decidedly unattractive. He was tall and thin, with a nose that had grown faster than his body. His hair had thankfully begun to darken, favouring less the bright orange that it had been a year ago, and his skin was almost unhealthily pale. Whenever he had been in London for his schooling, it had been torturous to endure the lightly insinuating ridicule from his peers at his inability to attract the attention of the fairer sex and even now, on the brink of his twentieth year, it was astoundingly awkward and unusual that he still found himself a virgin.

He could have, he supposed, and it had been suggested many a time especially now that he had boarded at Oxford, paid for the attentions of a woman, but the notion had shamed him almost as much as his awkwardness. Since he had met Griff all of ten years ago, he had always been upfront with his insecurities and so had she, and they both began to step onto the precipice of adulthood with very little interest shown from respective suitors, which had possibly compelled her to draw this ludicrous conclusion. "You absolutely cannot be serious," he said at last which caused her to huff out an impatient little sigh.

"I am," she said firmly, plunking her hands on her hips. "You know I am."

He did, but he did not want to consider it really. Griff was unfortunate in that her family was broke. And her family consisted only of herself and her aging mother who resided in a small cottage on the outskirts of the village of Haventry. Heather Griffiths simply did not have the funds to afford her only daughter a season in London and the likelihood of Griff ever attracting one of the available gentlemen, or even any man, in the village were next to none. Like him, she had not been blessed with an appearance that was considered fashionable or favourable. Oh, she was pretty enough with hair so dark it could be black and eyes so vividly rich and brown they reminded him of cinnamon, but she was... uh... decidedly plump. It was, he thought, rather unfortunate that such a thing would make her unattractive in the eyes of a suitor because she was just about the nicest and most decent person he had ever encountered. Her appearance bordered on somewhat exotic, her skin darker and freckled from the sun. She could be likeable to a pirate queen or an Arabian princess. 

"You are my best friend," he blurted for lack of anything better to say.

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "Ben, it is an easy solution- like fixing the broken axle of a carriage wheel or mending the hem of one of my frocks. We both have a problem and we both have the required parts to fix that problem."

"You don't have any problem," he grumbled disparagingly. "I don't see why you are rushing headlong into this idea. You have ample time to acquire a suitable husband-" he cut off at her exceedingly dry expression and bit his tongue before he said anything that would make him sound like an insensitive ass. "Granted, it may take some time..."

"I do not wish to wait," she said simply. "And from what I have gathered, neither do you. It is very unlikely that I will be married anytime soon. Or you, for that matter. You have complained long and hard whenever you have returned from Oxford about your lack of success. Perhaps, if you consider it, this will help you with at least your confidence in the matter, don't you think?"