Page 23 of My Secret Duke
“When does the archery start?” Ivo turned and carried his plate to the table, choosing to sit beside his sisters and Annette. That left a nice, safe gap between himself and the Ashton girls.
“At ten,” Justina answered him. She gave a little jump, as if Olivia had pinched her under cover of the table, and her expression turned resolute. “I do hope you will be participating, Your Grace. There will be prizes.”
Ivo smiled. “Ah, then I will certainly participate. I have not shot an arrow in a contest for some time.” Archery had been fashionable among ladies and gentlemen during the last century, but more recently, with the war in France, its popularity had declined.
“Oh, we are all excellent archers,” Justina assured him. She slid her sister a sly look. “Especially Olivia. She is a champion.”
“Is she now?” Ivo hesitated as he speared a piece ofsausage with his fork. “Then I accept the challenge. But do not expect me to let you win, ladies. I am not that much of a gentleman.” Olivia had accused him once of not being a gentleman and, as he had hoped, she remembered.
Her head jerked up, and her eyes narrowed. He gave her a bland smile. She was trying so hard to be proper, the perfect wife for the prince, that she may well decide it would be better to bow out of the archery. Which would be a pity. Ivo didn’t think that trying to be perfect was making Olivia very happy.
“Are you really going to shoot arrows, Ivo?” Adelina asked doubtfully. “We thought we would go for a walk. There is a nice view from the Grecian folly on the estate, or so I am told.”
“It is certainly a pretty outlook,” Vivienne said with a smile. “I go there when I want some time to myself.”
Ivo suspected the new Duchess of Grantham frequently needed time to contemplate her new relatives.
“Thinking time?” Annette asked brightly, and then seemed to reconsider the question.
He watched as the cousins exchanged a speaking look. What wasthatabout? There seemed to be an awful lot of secrets and mystery circulating. Which reminded him that the last thing he should be doing was joining in an archery contest where Olivia was a participant. Not if he wanted to keep secret his own ridiculous obsession with her.
And yet… he couldn’t seem to help himself. The memory of her words last night still rankled, but perversely, he had enjoyed seeing her lose control. Perhaps if he could provoke her again, she would admit to herself that the path she had chosen was the wrong one. That Ivo was far more compatible with her than the prince, and she should be sorry she had refused him. So sorry that shemay in fact change her mind…?
Hardly the wishes of a gentleman. Better if his hope was to show her how unhappy she would be with Prince Nikolai so she could escape that particular fate and go on to live a more fulfilling life. And if he was an unselfish sort of fellow,thatwould be his goal. Ivo wished he could be better, he really did, but he was not quite there yet.
The contestants in the archery sets were split into two teams, each with a target to shoot at. Ivo, Annette, and his sisters formed one team, while Charles, Gabriel, Olivia, and Justina were on the other team. The older women had decided it was more sensible to rest and chat in one of the sitting rooms, and save their energy for the ball tonight. The viscount was reading the newspaper, while Vivienne was amusing the younger Ashton girls—keeping them out of mischief—with the help of her brother. The prince was who knew where, and frankly, Ivo wasn’t sorry for his absence.
The game began in a friendly enough manner. Ivo’s team spent a lot of time giggling, while Charles and Gabriel were so deep in conversation that they had to be reminded when it was their turn. Justina blushed whenever Charles looked her way, and blushed even more when he attempted to show her how best to hold the bow. Watching the couple with amusement, Ivo thought Charles was being remarkably patient with the young woman. Gentle. Perhaps the tender feelings he had noticed previously were not just on Justina’s part, although seeing Gabriel’s frown as he watched them, Ivowondered if anything more could come of it.
Eventually, the others dropped away, either through choice or disqualification, and the two best archers, or perhaps the only two who were taking the contest seriously, were left to face each other.
Ivo and Olivia.
Ivo supposed he could be a gentleman and bow out, allowing Olivia to win by default. But when the opportunity came and she turned to him, her expression hostile, it felt as if she wished anyone else in the world was facing her, anyone but Ivo. Did she hate him so much? Her behavior irritated and disappointed him, and it made his decision an easy one.
He was not going to be a gentleman.
To decide the winner, they would play one set, with each of them having three arrows to fire at the target. The one with the highest score would be declared the champion. With the first arrow, they both hit the bull’s-eye, to the cheers of those who had stayed to watch. On the second shot, Olivia took up her position, focused on the target, and was just about to fire her arrow when a loud voice from behind them called her name. Her shot went astray.
“Lady Olivia!” It was Prince Nikolai, seemingly unaware that he had just caused her to miss. He continued talking. “I thought we could walk in the garden. Your sister has apologized,” he added, and then frowned, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether Roberta had been truly sorry or not. The girl in question was standing a little way behind him, watching on with a scowl.
Olivia took a deep breath, and Ivo tried not to laugh out loud as he saw her grappling with her desire to tell the prince exactly what she thought of his intrusion. “I’m glad to hear it,” she managed with a forced smile.
Olivia was trying so hard to be perfect, but Ivo could see by the tight line of her mouth, and the flash of irritation in her blue eyes, that it was a losing battle. He decided to encourage her to reveal her true, competitive self.
“You could forfeit,” he suggested with a smile as false as hers.
She flashed him a fulminating look. “I am going to win!” Hastily rearranging her features, she turned back to the prince, and spoke in a softer tone of voice. “My apologies, sir, but I need to finish this game. I will be happy to walk with you… soon.” She caught sight of her sister lurking near a bush. “Until then, I am sure Roberta will be happy to show you the gardens.”
Roberta opened her mouth as if to protest, and then, catching her older sister’s eye, swallowed the words. “Of course,” she said dutifully.
The prince hesitated, glancing between the two, and then, with a shrug, strolled away with his hands behind his back, Roberta trotting by his side. Just before they disappeared around a bend in the path, she turned back and poked out her tongue.
Olivia wasn’t watching. She straightened and drew back her bow string with impressive strength, her eyes narrowed on the target. “Now,” she said, “I am going to end this debate between us, Northam, once and for all.”
Chapter Eleven
Except she didn’t.
