Page 51 of House of Thorns
She expelled a huff.
“Well, if that’s where he’s been hiding, then, all is as it should be,” she muttered under her breath, even as her heart disagreed.
Twenty minutes later, twenty minutes of indecision, she finally stood outside her grandfather’s townhouse, looking for signs of Nicholas’s carriage and finding none.
Relief washed over her as she lifted the door’s brass knocker.
On the third knock, the door opened. “Lady Deborah is not at home,” the maid bobbed in answer to her inquiry.
Olivia pursed her lips. “Will she return soon?”
“If you’ll kindly come inside, I shall inquire, Miss.” The maid held the door open wide.
She led Olivia down the hall and to the sitting room, and after seeing her inside, quickly left.
Olivia stepped gingerly inside. It was a beautiful room. Of course, she would expect nothing less from the Duke of Lennox. She glanced about. From the gleaming gold brocade couches to the matching overstuffed chairs, the room seemed too new, too perfect, as if never used. Even the heavy silk drapes and crystal beaded chandelier suspended in the center of the ceiling appeared as only beautiful facades, hardly a home. Nothing like the comfort of her tawdry, rundown parlor.
She grinned at the comparison. Hardly in a mood to sit, she wandered to the small collection of portraits hanging over a side table that displayed a magnificent Chinese vase.
One portrait caught her eye, a small one. Peering closer, she realized with a start that it was a depiction of her mother.
“Why are you here?” a gruff bass grated.
Olivia whirled as the Duke of Lennox strode into the room, his brows drawn into a thick line of displeasure. One would never have guessed him a man to weep over his disowned daughter’s grave.
“Are you struck dumb?” he asked waspishly.
Olivia snorted. “Forgive me. I merely sought to reconcile the man I saw in the graveyard with the man before me now,” she answered, the truth lending her voice a deeper strength.
The Duke froze, then slowly resumed his walk to the window. He reached it and turned. “It is high time you and I came to an understanding.”
“Pardon?”
He didn’t care for the challenge in her tone. That much was obvious by the dark roil in his eyes. “I’ll not have you embarrassing the family name.”
Familyname? The ship named ‘Family’ had sailed years ago. “Pardon?” she repeated, this time with more than a touch of contempt.
“You must marry,” he retorted, clipping each word.
So, another pompous man sought to order her about? “I must inform you that I’m not inclined to do so—not that my marriage is any concern of yours.”
He clamped his jaw. “It is quite unseemly—quite—that a lady of your position seeks to run a venture such as printing music. Clearly, that is the domain of men.”
Olivia laughed outright.
Her grandfather’s head snapped back.
“Let me lay your concerns to rest, then,” she chuckled dryly. “First, I can run a press better than most, I assure you, be they man or woman. Second, I am no concern of yours. The word ‘family’ does not exist between us. Therefore, I am hardly a lady.”
“Indeed, you are not,” he replied in cold disdain.
His words didn’t even hurt. Olivia shrugged. “Your words have no power over me,” she replied with a pert smile.
He blinked.
“Are you expecting me to faint? Wither? Wilt?” she challenged.
The Duke’s brows furrowed. “My reputation—
