The Wedding Affair (24 page)

She didn’t offer to help shell the beans. She couldn’t bring herself to touch something that had come from Sir Jasper.

After her outing, Olivia was both tired and out of sorts, and she had difficulty settling down to work. She looked in the larder, taking inventory of the contents. If she made a pastry crust and put in all the bits and pieces of meat and vegetables, she could create a sort of shepherd’s pie that, along with the beans and the rest of yesterday’s bread, would fill them all.

As she was rolling out the crust, Maggie sauntered into the kitchen. “It’s the duke come to call.
Again.
I put him in the sitting room.”

Olivia’s heart gave a little jerk. Only two hours earlier, he had said a hasty good-bye at her garden gate and then caught up with the group of riders as they left the village. What was bringing him back so quickly? Surely he wasn’t foolish enough to think she could invite him upstairs at this hour of the afternoon…

On the other hand, since there was no possibility of indulging his sensual appetite, perhaps this would be a good opportunity to have the unpleasant but necessary conversation that she should have demanded the previous night.

She shifted the pastry into a shallow pottery dish and arranged the bits of meat and vegetables, pouring gravy over the mixture and adding a layer of potatoes on top.

Maggie looked at the pie and said wistfully, “Even in the servants’ dining room at Halstead, the table is so loaded down that it groans.”

“And if you ate all that rich food, you’d be groaning afterwards,” Nurse put in.

Olivia slid the pie into the oven niche at the side of the fireplace and dusted flour off her hands. “Charlotte, dear, your horse is growing loud. Perhaps it’s time to put it out to pasture.”

Charlotte galloped off into the garden.

Olivia brushed off her skirt and went into the sitting room. The duke was occupying the same spot where Sir Jasper had stood on the day he had propositioned her, and for an instant, time seemed to fold in around her. They were such different men—and yet, when all was said and done, the situation she found herself in today was not much different from what Sir Jasper had suggested.

His gaze roved over her face so intimately that Olivia could feel his touch. “I came in the hope of a friendly greeting.” The duke’s words were perfectly amiable, but his tone—lazy, sensual, like melted butter flowing over newly baked bread—made clear what he had in mind. He took a step closer. “It has been hours since I kissed you, and I feel the lack.”

Her insides began to quiver, and she felt an embarrassing rush of warmth between her legs. She shifted uncomfortably, and Simon smiled—a knowing, predatory smile.

Bad enough, she thought, that all he had to do was murmur in her ear and she grew wet and ready for lovemaking, but worse yet was the fact he knew it.

“I should like to speak with you in private,” she said firmly.

“That is my dearest wish as well. Except for the part about speaking.” He captured her hand and lifted it to his mouth. His lips moved with agonizing slowness down her fingers. “My dear, you smell of lovely things. Chicken, perhaps?”

“Only gravy.” She could barely hear herself think. “It’s shepherd’s pie for dinner.”

“Then I wish I could stay and share it.”

“You would have trouble explaining your absence to your guests. In any case, there isn’t enough for us to invite an extra.”

He turned her hand over and touched the tip of his tongue to the center of her palm, sending a dart of sheer pleasure through her. “Fortunately, the pie need stretch only to serve three, for you are summoned to dine this evening at Halstead.”

“Whose mad idea was this?”

“My mother’s. She sent a note inviting you. I beg you not to inform her that she is mad. She takes the suggestion badly, you see.”

“I can’t come to Halstead.”

Suddenly the lover was gone and he stood before her every inch a duke. “If my mother is to be convinced I am courting you, it will be necessary for me to appear to court you.”

Olivia quailed for an instant. Then she rallied, reminding herself that this man was not her husband and she had not given him power to compel her. “You cannot flaunt your mistress directly under your mother’s nose, sir.”

“Exactly,” he said softly. “Which is precisely why you are coming to dinner not as my mistress, but as a potential wife. If you recall, my agreement regarding an annuity was based on that performance, not on whether you occupy my bed.”

“Then I shall not feel it necessary to entertain further advances in
that
direction, Your Grace.”

“Yes, you will, Olivia, because you want to.” His voice was low and lazy. “Making love is simply an added pleasure for both of us. Don’t waste your breath trying to deny it, for your face gives you away.” He brushed her eyelid with his thumb. “Even now you’re looking at me like a woman who’s hungry for her lover.”

She tried to clench her legs together to stem the flood of wet heat, but without success.

The duke smiled. “I thought so… The carriage will call for you in ample time. Until this evening, my lady.”

He did not close the sitting room door behind him, so Olivia heard the clatter of Charlotte’s galloping come to an abrupt halt in the hallway.

“I thought you were afraid of horses, Miss Charlotte,” the duke said.

“Only if they’re big ones,” Charlotte admitted shyly. “Like yours.”

“So that’s a pony you’re riding now? What is his name?”

“
She
,” Charlotte said indignantly. “She’s a
girl
horse.”

“Indeed. Since this is a house full of females, only a
girl horse
would fit in. How foolish of me to think otherwise!”

Olivia stepped into the hallway. “Go find Nurse, Charlotte. And as for you, sir, if you expect me to be ready when the carriage comes, you’ll take your departure right now.”

Charlotte frowned. “Are you going away
again
, Mama?”

“Only for a little while, my dear. I’ll try to come home in time to put you to bed.”

“Unlikely,” the duke said.

Olivia glared at him and turned back to the child. “And if you’re already asleep, I’ll tuck you in again anyway. Run along, now.”

Charlotte sidled past the duke, eyeing him steadily, and disappeared into the kitchen.

“How flattering that you sought once more to be alone with me.” The duke lifted her hand to his lips.

An observer, Olivia realized, would notice only the cool correctness of a gentleman paying tribute to a lady—the sort of elegant gesture he might perform even in a crowded ballroom. But an observer would not have felt the deliberate caress of his breath lingering against her skin and reminding her of even more intimate fondling. Her breasts tingled, and Olivia made a mental note to keep a shawl with her all the time she was at Halstead—just in case the duke happened to feel playful.

***

The duchess’s offer to provide her with a new habit had been welcome enough, for even Kate wasn’t so proud that she would refuse to accept a replacement for a garment she’d ruined while in the duchess’s service. But Iris Somervale’s announcement that Halstead’s castoff scraps would be good enough for someone like Kate had been harder to swallow. In any case, there were things she needed much more than a new riding habit. Whatever employment Kate ended up taking, horses and rides were likely to be scarce.

When Lady Stone, coming out of a bedroom, called her name, Kate almost didn’t hear her.

“Miss Blakely, I have not as yet had an opportunity to wish you well in your betrothal,” Lady Stone said, her beady eyes bright. “Give me your arm along the corridor, if you please—unless you are engaged on an errand.”

“I am to find the modiste and send her to the duchess,” Kate admitted.

“Then you must not delay to assist me. What is the emergency, pray? Has Lady Daphne measured the pin-tucks on her wedding gown and found one shorter than all the others?”

Kate had to repress a smile at the picture of Lady Daphne with a ruler, checking out each line of stitching. “Her Grace has decided I require a new riding habit.” She waved a careless hand at the slick spots of moss on her skirt.

“I should think so. Though, knowing Iris, she may be more concerned that the dressmakers are idle at her expense while they wait for one of the bridesmaids to tear a ruffle.” Lady Stone’s voice was as gravelly as always, but her eyes were alight with mischief.

For once, Kate thought before speaking. After all, Lady Stone was not simply a guest at the wedding but a good friend of the duchess, close enough to have been named Lady Daphne’s godmother. “I am grateful for Her Grace’s thoughtfulness, and any fabric grand enough to have been stored in Halstead’s cupboards must make a far more elegant dress than anything I am able to afford.”

“My dear Miss Blakely, are you truly determined to make yourself into the perfect companion for Iris? I assume in that case you aren’t intending to marry the vicar after all. Of course, there is such a thing as being too close a cousin, so perhaps you’re wise to think twice.”

As Kate turned to offer her arm to Lady Stone, she collided with Andrew, who had just come up the stairs. He paused with his hand on the door of a nearby bedroom—the same bedroom, Kate couldn’t help but notice, that had been assigned to her until his untimely arrival had shuffled her off to smaller and much less convenient quarters in the east wing.

“Our patient seems to be doing well, Miss Blakely,” Andrew said. “I spoke to the doctor as he was leaving. He believes Miss Emily will be fully recovered in time to take part in the wedding festivities.”

“I’m sure Lady Daphne will be relieved to hear it.”

“Would anyone care to place a wager on that?” Lady Stone asked blandly.

Kate was startled when a tall chair standing in the niche at the top of the stairs seemed to chuckle. Then Colonel Sir Tristan Huffington unfolded himself from the chair, leaning to one side to peer at them. “Whichever way you’re betting, Lucinda, I’ll take the other side. And if you’re getting so feeble in your old age that you need an arm to support you down the stairs, I consider it my duty as an officer and a gentleman to offer my assistance.”

“An officer, yes,” Lady Stone sniffed. “I’m not so sure about you being a gentleman.” She let go of Kate. “Thank you for your offer, my girl, but Mr. Carlisle appears to have something on his mind—though I recommend you move away from the top of the stairs before you share any more secrets.” She started down the stairs, and the colonel followed.

“Is that where you were hiding to eavesdrop last night, Kate?” Andrew asked. “Behind a very convenient chair?”

“I was not hiding,” Kate said. “I was merely…”
Dodging bridesmaids
. “Did you have something else to add about the accident?”

“No. But I couldn’t help hearing what Lady Stone said.”

“You
couldn’t help hearing
? What an interesting distinction! When
I
overhear something, you seem to think it’s because I have been hiding and eavesdropping. When
you
overhear something, it’s the fault of the person who was talking.” She started past him.

He stepped into her path. “Is she correct?”

“About the vicar, the duchess, or my financial state? And what business is it of yours?”

“Kate,” he said gently. “I ask as a friend.”

She surveyed him with irritation. “No, I haven’t turned down the vicar as yet, and I have no plans to do so anytime soon.”

“Lady Stone has a point, you know—about you being cousins.”

“
Distant
cousins. Neither am I trying to make myself the perfect companion for the duchess, because she’s made clear she needs me only until the wedding.”

“And your shortage of funds? If you would prefer not to be beholden to Her Grace, I might help.”

Kate knew it was silly of her to be embarrassed; her straitened circumstances would hardly startle anyone who had given the matter an instant’s thought. But her feelings were already raw, and the idea that Andrew felt sorry for her was humiliating.

“If you are offering a loan, you must know how inappropriate it would be for me to accept. In any case, since I have no idea when I would be able to repay any funds you advanced, I could not possibly allow you to commit money you will no doubt need on your next adventure. If you will excuse me, Mr. Carlisle, I must carry out the duchess’s request.” Kate brushed past him and went down the stairs, doing her best to blink back tears.

Eleven

Penelope wanted to wrap herself around her husband and cling tight, begging him to keep her safe until the last of her tremors had died down—and then perhaps show her once more what husbands and wives did together. But she suspected he intended to hold to their bargain. Just once, she had said, and that was all he had agreed to.

And her instinct was correct, for while she was still quaking inside, he disentangled himself from her and went to the washstand. He dampened a cloth in the basin and came back to where she still sprawled across the bed.