Page 11 of House of Thorns
Chapter Four
Demanding Honor
The large bay window with its fine view of a tidy rose garden dominated the Duke of Lennox’s parlor. Olivia scarcely noticed the tasteful green velvet settee and matching chairs, the pictures suspended on brass chains, and the grandfather clock in the corner.
As she stepped into the room, a sound to her left made her turn.
Deborah sat curled up in a window seat, wearing a lavender gown edged with an ivory-colored Brussels bobbin lace and with a book in her hands. She was surrounded by so many brightly colored pillows that Olivia couldn’t help but think she looked like a nervous hen, sitting on a nest. The comparison only deepened when Deborah dropped her book with a strangled squawk and then jumped to her feet, sending the cushions flying in all directions. A gold-fringed bolster rolled to stop at Olivia’s feet.
“You came,” Deborah gasped.
“Of course.” Olivia smiled.
Deborah lunged and threw her arms around Olivia’s waist, buried her brown ringlets against Olivia’s shoulder and began to sob.
“What is it?” Olivia asked, alarmed. “What happened?”
“Whatever shall I do?” Deborah wailed.
As she sobbed, Olivia patted her shoulder, and eventually managed to guide her back to the window seat.
“Dry your tears and tell me,” Olivia said, giving her cousin’s hands a comforting squeeze. “Whatever upsets you, I’m sure we can solve it together.”
Deborah’s elfin face contorted. “I don’t think so,” she gulped.
“Come, now. How bad can it be?”
“Oh, Olivia, whatever shall I do? Heaven help me, tongues will wag, soon, about the thickness of my waist.”
Concerned, Olivia sat down by her side and gave her knee a comforting pat. “Please, Deborah, tell me what it is so I may help you.”
Deborah passed her hands over her face and then turned her head away. After several long moments, she whispered, “You’re so strong, Olivia. You’re not afraid of anyone, are you?”
That wasn’t true, but now was hardly the time to disagree. “Afraid? Are you afraid of someone?”
Deborah closed her eyes and then blurted, “I’m with child.” The words were scarcely out of her mouth before her lashes flew open and she clamped a hand over her mouth, as if surprised at her own confession.
Olivia simply stared as the word slowly registered. Her mouth gaped. “A chi—”
“Hush.” Deborah flinched and then quickly placed a finger over Olivia’s lips. “Don’t say it. Not a word.”
Olivia’s brows rose, her eyes drawn like a magnet to her cousin’s slender waistline before she forced her gaze back to her face. “Are you certain?”
As a fresh onslaught of tears cascaded down Deborah’s cheeks, Olivia could only assume the reaction meant ‘yes.’
“And the father?” Olivia asked. “Surely, he asked you to wed him?” Obviously, he hadn’t. Otherwise, Deborah would be discussing her wedding plans, instead.
Deborah averted her gaze. “No,” she replied, her voice managing to quaver three octaves within the single syllable alone.
A red-hot wave of anger rolled over Olivia. “Thecad. Tell me, who is this man?”
“I can’t.” Debora’s shoulders sagged.
“I insist.”
Deborah whirled to face her. “Why? Why must you know?”
“Why?Why?I’ll tell him to do the honorable thing,” Olivia retorted, astonished. “He must wed you. Atonce.”
