Page 114 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
“Lord Dunton.” Oliver stepped forward, took Dinah’s cold hand in his warm one and helped her from the coach. “He’s one of Massie’s.”
Lord Archer’s eyes widened. “How did you manage that? Wait, never mind,” he added with a chuckle, before Oliver could answer. “It’s probably best if I don’t know. Fine animal, or he will be, once he grows a little. He’ll be a capital hunter. All of Massie’s dogs are.” Lord Archer stroked the puppy’s head, his tone wistful.
Oliver was gazing at Dinah, his brow creased in an anxious from, but he offered his brother a distracted smile. “I’m glad you approve, Will, because he’s yours.”
Lord Archer’s mouth fell open. “Mine?”
“He’s your Christmas gift. You did say you wanted a hunter, didn’t you?”
“I did. Ido. I never dreamed I’d get one of Massie’s dogs, though.” Lord Archer grinned, delighted. “He’s perfect. Thank you, Oliver.”
Oliver didn’t seem to hear his brother. “Are you quite all right, Din—that is, Miss Bishop? You look pale.”
“Never mind Miss Bishop, Oliver.” Penelope rose to her tiptoes to kiss Oliver’s cheek, then made a shooing gesture. “You may leave her to me. I’ll take good care of her.”
Oliver didn’t move, his gaze still locked on Dinah’s face. Penelope shot her husband a look, and Lord Archer slapped Oliver on the back. “Come on, then. Let’s see if the pup will chase a stick.”
“Better make it a twig,” Oliver grumbled. He cast one last anxious look at Dinah, but allowed himself to be led away.
“Thank goodness they’re gone. You look as if you could use some tea. Here, let me take that.” Penelope nodded at Dinah’s hands.
Dinah blinked down at herself. She hadn’t realized she was still clutching the pineapple. Penelope drew it away from her, then slid her arm through Dinah’s and led her to the house. When they reached the drawing room, she placed the pineapple carefully on the tea table, and led Dinah to a seat beside the fire.
Dinah allowed herself to be seated, but she only nodded in response to Penelope’s cheerful chatter. She was afraid if she spoke, she’d burst into tears.
Penelope didn’t seem to notice. “Christopher and Maddy are out riding, but they’re both anxious to see you. Maddy has a suitor—did I tell you? I thought Christopher might have settled on Miss Everard, but he’s such a dreadful flirt it’s difficult to tell. There’s to be a supper tomorrow evening with dancing afterward, so you’ll have to help me determine if—”
“I won’t be here tomorrow evening. I’m returning to London in the morning.”
Penelope returned the teapot to the tray with exaggerated precision. “Oh? May I ask why?”
“I, er…I need to get back to the Pandemonium. You know how Silas is. He’ll have a fit if I’m not back on stage soon.” It wasn’t the real reason, of course, but it was plausible enough.
Penelope lifted her tea cup to her lips and took a dainty sip. “Silas isn’t the reason you want to leave. Try again.”
“He’s…I…I don’t know what you want me to…will Miss Spence be at the supper tomorrow evening?” Dinah snapped her mouth closed, horrified. Why, why,whyhad she brought up Miss Spence? If she could have snatched the words out of the air, she would have.
Penelope was no fool. She’d realize at once Oliver was the reason Dinah was fleeing Cliff’s Edge, and she’d never cease teasing until she had the whole story.
But Penelope’s next words shocked her. “No. There isn’t any Miss Spence. I invented her.”
Dinah stared. “Inventedher?” No, that couldn’t be true. She must have misheard—
“Invented her, yes. Right out of thin air, just likethat.” Penelope snapped her fingers. “You see, I knew if you thought there was a Miss Spence, you’d make certain Oliver came to Cliff’s Edge so you might deliver him into a respectable young lady’s arms and save him from marrying a wicked actress.”
Dinah’s mouth dropped open. “Penelope! How could you do such a—”
“You’re the wicked actress in this scenario, in case that’s not clear,” Penelope interrupted, stirring another lump of sugar into her tea.
“But that’s…you—”
“I knew Oliver—being wildly in love with you—would make the most of his time alone with you in the coach. Am I correct?”
“You seem to know a great deal more about this than I do,” Dinah hissed, frazzled to the last degree. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Penelope shrugged. “Certainly, if you like. I believe it’s something like this. Oliver is madly, wildly in love with you, has been since the moment he saw you and has, in his own odd way, been courting you for a year now.”
“Not precisely courting—”
