Page 21 of My Secret Duke
He was teasing, and the memory of how in alignment they used to be made her feel strangely hollow. Her voice was crotchety when she replied. “Perfectly. Now, if that is all? I have a great deal to do.”
His sparkling gaze met hers and cooled. “I thought I would see what’s happening in the stables. The ladies are discussing the latest fashions in bonnets, and I have little to contribute.”
“I imagine it is very dull here for someone like you. Perhaps you should go back to London.”
It wasn’t the right thing to say. She knew that at once. She had never been spiteful, but now he was bringing out the worst in her. This close to him, his green eyes were striking as he considered his reply. She thought about making her excuses and leaving him, but that would be cowardly, and anyway, it was too late.
“You seem to believe I am some sort of hell-raiser, Olivia. Unreliable. I remember that was one of the blemishes you listed against me, when you told me never to darken your door again.”
“Your memory is faulty.”
“Is it?” He looked down at her from his greater height, but she refused to give ground. “Actually, my memory is rather good. For instance, I remember you agreeing to that bet with me at the Elphinstones’. A kiss if I won or my thumb ring if you did. Is my memory faulty on that detail?”
She hesitated, but he was waiting for her to fib, and sherefused to be predictable. “We never finished the game.”
“Wecouldfinish it. Where is the famous Grantham billiard room?” He looked around. “The scene of your many triumphs?”
“I thought we had decided friends do not make wagers that could compromise—”
“You decided that. And I don’t think we are friends now. Are we?”
He waited. Her heart was beating quickly, her throat felt tight as she sought for something to say. “I can’t take the risk,” she blurted out at last. “Not with you. You’re the last person I should be friends with.”
He stilled. “I see. All work and no play when it comes to snaring your prince. I wish you well of him, Olivia, even though I think you are making a mistake.” His face transformed into a facsimile of Nikolai’s haughty expression, and his next words were spoken with the prince’s slight accent. “No one will ever be good enough for him. Except perhaps for Leopold!” He gave her an exaggerated bow and walked briskly away.
She stared after him, and a memory popped into her head.
During one of their illicit meetings, they had found a quiet room to chat in, and she had discovered Ivo had a wicked ability to mimic the more recognizable guests, sending Olivia into whoops. “You should have been on the stage,” she had said, wiping her eyes.
He had sent her a sideways glance. “I will tell you a secret. I almost was. Some traveling players came to Portside, and after I saw them perform, I told my mother that was what I wanted to be. I was very disappointed when she explained I was going to be a duke and that was that.”
Just now, Ivo had been playing the part of the prince. He was being cruel, and she had never thought of Ivo as cruel. Had she wounded his pride again? Olivia tried to shrug off the awkwardness of their encounter. What did it matter what Ivo thought? She had made her choice.
She turned toward the stairs.
She had barely taken a step when her eye was caught by a man standing in the shadows of the passage that led to the rear of the house. His back was to her and for a moment—although how could it be?—she thought that fair hair belonged to Ivo. He dipped his head, as if he was… he was… kissing someone? A woman stood in the circle of his arms.
She froze. It was as if her heart was being squeezed. She should have been happy to see Ivo behaving in the manner of a man who cared nothing for others, the sort of man she had accused him of being, but instead, she felt broken into pieces. The error only lasted for a moment, until she heard the murmur of his voice.Charles Wickley.Not Ivo after all.
The woman lifted her head.Justina.Charles was kissing her sister. After the evening she’d had, it was too much for Olivia.
“No!” she said in a loud voice, making them both jump and hastily step apart. When they saw her, Charles ran a hand over his face as if he didn’t know what to say, but Justina came toward her, her face flushed, and her hair disarranged. Before she could speak, Olivia caught her sister’s arm, pulling her toward the stairs.
“Rather an overreaction,” Charles drawled. “I was hardly about to ravish her.”
“Olivia,” Justina hissed, more angry than embarrassed. “Let me go.”
But Olivia ignored them both, continuing up the stairs with her sister in tow. They reached the top and Justina pulled away, rubbing her arm. “You have no right—” she began.
Olivia spoke over her. “I’ve had enough of scandals,” she said furiously. “First Roberta and now this. Don’t you dare create another one!”
Justina glared at her. “Why? You’ve had your share. Isn’t it my turn?”
Olivia did not remember the last time she had fallen out with her sister and closest friend. She could say something now, make it better, but she was too angry to say anything at all. Justina gave her one burning, resentful look before setting off at a run for her bedchamber.
Somewhere, a door banged, and a head peered out from another room. Georgia? It occurred to Olivia that Georgia was in her mother’s room, but that couldn’t be right. She let the thought slip. Justina was more important.
Olivia knew she should go after her, smooth things over, but she didn’t move. It was chilly standing there, and the lamp on the small table fluttered a little in one of the many drafts that plagued Grantham.
