Page 15 of My Secret Duke
Not that his best was good enough for Olivia.
“All the same.” She sniffed. “I believe she has set her cap at you, Ivo. You are a catch, and she is desperately in need of someone like you, someone respectable.”
Adelina snorted a laugh, turning it into a cough.
Ivo opened his mouth to protest. Oliviahadbeen in need of him, until he had ruined whatever was between them. Before he could speak, and perhaps it was just as well he didn’t, his mother carried on.
“If her brother had not run off with that woman and taken center stage, she might have been able to whip the scandalmongers into a frenzy, and then you would have felt obliged to offer for her.”
Ivo said nothing. What could he say?I did propose, Mother, but she turned me down. I wasn’t good enough for her.He wasn’t going to mention that, and he didn’t think Olivia would either. He hadn’t wanted to visitGrantham, but once he was there, he was determined to ignore Olivia as much as possible. He would not behave like a man scorned. He would be polite and yet completely indifferent. Yes, her words had hurt a great deal, but he would remain proudly aloof. He would show her how little her opinions meant to him.
A fizz of anticipation broke through his melancholy. She might even regret throwing his proposal back in his face.
“Well, the gardeners have been busy!” Elaine exclaimed as they reached their destination. Looking out of the window, Ivo could see that the borders were trimmed, the lawns scythed, and the gravel drive beyond the gatehouse was raked to within an inch of its life. For all the rumors regarding the Ashton family’s dire financial straits, Grantham looked very grand indeed. It seemed that the dowager duchess was determined to prove the gossipmongers wrong. As their coach drew up, servants came hurrying down the front stairs, ready to unload their luggage and welcome them inside.
Or, as Ivo whispered to Adelina, prevent them from leaving.
She tapped his arm with a giggle.
Inside the front door, the Dowager Duchess of Grantham was waiting to greet them, and beside her stood Gabriel, with his new wife, Vivienne. The happy couple, Ivo reminded himself, although their smiles appeared somewhat strained, while the dowager was wearing an expression he would have categorized as “determined.”
He made his bows and politely congratulated the duke and duchess, while his mother twittered to the dowager about the gardens as if there had never been a time when they had loathed each other. Gabriel looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else, but a glance at his wife seemed to calm him.
Ivo continued across the marble floor and found himself standing in a dazzling circle of rainbow light. When he stared up, he saw there was a colored glass dome high above, and the light shone through to the floor below. It was impressive. The Fitzsimmons family seat at Whitmont was not nearly as grand as this, and although he told himself his ancestors had preferred comfort to style, the truth was they had never had enough money.
“How do you do, Your Grace?” asked a piping voice.
Ivo blinked and realized he had not finished with the welcoming party. The six sisters stood in a row, and it was Edwina who had spoken. She made a wobbly curtsy, and he couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the youngest Ashton girl that lifted his spirits.
The others followed suit, although Olivia barely dipped at all, and her gaze met his but briefly. She looked as glorious as ever in a blue gown that brought out the color of her eyes. When she dropped her gaze, her dark lashes fanned her pale skin, and her plump lips pouted. She had a sullen look that made him want to kiss the life out of her.
He’d missed her, and he hadn’t realized how much until now. He’d missed her company and her smiles and their risky trysts. He’d missed spotting her across a room and knowing he would get to talk to her and hold her in his arms as they danced. He’d missed…her.
But this was not how he had planned to meet her. Where was his aloof demeanor? Ivo’s carefully chosenwords stuck in his throat. Urbane, experienced, a gentleman who allowed very little to rattle him, he now found himself at an embarrassing loss.
“Ivo, come along!” The dowager and his sisters were already at the base of the staircase, waiting to be shown to their rooms.
Ivo gave a quick nod. Had any of the sisters noticed his fixation on Olivia? He hoped not. He would really have to do better at this polite indifference, he told himself as he made his way up the stairs.
“There will be dinner tonight, and tomorrow, the dowager has filled the day with diversions before the ball.” Elaine was puffing slightly as she climbed.
“What fun!” Adelina said excitedly. “Are there many guests staying?”
“The dowager says there will be a great many coming tomorrow for the ball alone, and some will be staying on. I wonder if there is room to house so many people.” She raised her brows. “I don’t mean to speak ill,” she lowered her voice, with an eye to the servant leading the way, “but the house is rumored to be in a very poor state. The east wing is completely closed off. I do hope our rooms are well aired.”
“Is Annette here yet?” Lexy glanced at her sister.
“I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask,” Adelina replied. “I was struck dumb by that glass dome above the foyer. So grand! Why can’t we have something like that at Whitmont, Ivo?”
Ivo ignored her. He was thinking that he would be glad of Annette’s company, and no doubt, there would be other members of the ton arriving to attend the ball, people he knew and with whom he could be comfortable. Before long, he would be on his way home again, ready to put all of this behind him. Ready to put Olivia Ashton behind him.
And yet for some reason, his assertions rang hollow.
Chapter Seven
There were more guests at Grantham than there had been for as long as Olivia could remember. She found herself hurrying hither and thither, carrying out her grandmother’s instructions, but she was glad to keep busy. At least then she wasn’t thinking about Ivo staring up at the glass dome in the foyer as if he was spellbound. As always, he’d been perfectly dressed in his beige pantaloons and dark green tailed jacket, his cravat framing his square jaw and cleanly shaven cheeks. His fair hair had caught the ruby light from the colors in the dome, and it had been cut since she saw him last. The wayward curls that had once caused her gaze to linger and her fingers to long to touch were gone, and he now wore a severe Brutus. It didn’t matter. His very presence still made her heart flutter as if there were butterflies taking flight in her chest.
She had expected the visit to be a trying one and had been determined to be as focused as the dowager on making the dinner and the ball, and whatever came after, a resounding success. But she wished he wasn’t here. Her grandmother had explained that the Fitzsimmonses would not have come without him, which would have made the Monteiths waver. She trusted Olivia to be politely indifferent to him, inspired by the hope of taking the next step in resuming her London Season.
