Page 52 of House of Thorns
“Of which I care not a whit,” Olivia inserted.
“Randall is acceptable,” he finished abruptly.
The change of subject took her by surprise. “Pardon?”
“I’ll provide the dowry—”
“Pardon?”
“Donotinterrupt me,” his voice thundered in the room.
Her anger erupted. “And,you, donotthink to control my life,” she raised her voice in turn. “I’ll marry if and when I please, and very most certainly,notat your command.”
He drew back as if she’d slapped his cheek, apparently unused to challenges.
She didn’t care. Caught in a depth of anger she’d never before experienced, she planted her hands on her hips. “Lord help me, but do I understand you correctly? Dare you, and Lord Randall—of all men to walk the Earth—dare speak ofmymarriage? The impudence, the pure audacity…” her voice trailed away, speechless.
“These are men’s concerns,” the Duke spat.
“Oh? My own life isn’t my concern?” The fury boiling in Olivia grew hotter by the second. How dare her grandfather speak to Lord Randall…and how dare Lord Randall speak with her grandfather? Suddenly, the man’s constant snooping around her shop became clear.
“Never,” she vowed. “I’ll never wed the man. Ever.”
“His title could restore some semblance of respectability to a woman of your position,” came her grandfather’s curt reply.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’ve no interest in joining the ranks of those coldhearted, uncaring…” she faltered as an unwanted image of his shaking shoulders in the graveyard slipped through her thoughts.
She fell silent, her anger drained.
The Duke didn’t move.
For a time, only the creaking of the carriages on the street outside came between them.
Then, the Duke stalked to a walnut cabinet in the corner of the room, took a key from his pocket, and twisted it into the uppermost locked drawer. He opened the doors and pulled out a small, carved box.
“This means nothing to you?” he asked, holding the box up as he turned to face her.
Olivia shook her head.
Slowly, he joined her. When he reached her side, he extended his hand and opened the lid of the box.
“This was your mother’s heritage before she let pride get in her way,” he rasped.
A small ceramic shoe glistened on a bed of white velvet. Sapphires and diamonds encrusted the heel and the upper edges. Where one might expect a bow or a buckle near the toe, a sapphire, as large as a Robin’s egg, rested instead, surrounded by a ring of diamonds catching the stray rays of light filtering into the room.
Olivia knew what it was. The Blue Slipper.
“Your mother’s pride kept you poor, Olivia. Her pride prevented you from a proper education, one that befits a lady. Your mother’s pride—her obstinance—condemned you to the lower echelons of society.” He spoke slowly, ominously.
For a suspended moment in time, Olivia simply stared at the small shoe, lying on its velvet bed.
Then, the lid snapped shut and her grandfather spun on his heel to return the box to the cabinet. As he twisted the key in the lock, he said, “Walk away from this madness ofAn Enchanted Summer Evening. Sponsoring a concert is no place for a woman.Sellyour shop, if you must. Wed Randall and gain a title. Then, you can return to your proper place in society.” He faced her then, his craggy face an unreadable mask. “It’s simple, Olivia. It’s time you walked away from your father and his dreams.”
Walk away from her father? Olivia’s chin lifted. “Never. You dare judge my mother? Pride, you say? Obstinance? You are so wrong, so very, very wrong. My mother’slovetaught me the meaning of a true family and a home.” She eyed the soulless perfection of the room around her as well as the man, then added, “Clearly, that is something you’ll never understand. True love cannot be bought.”
Angry, she whirled and headed for the door.
She was three feet away from it when her grandfather’s hand dropped on her shoulder. “Accept Randall,” he urged. “Then, I can bestow upon you a dowry.”
