Page 54 of House of Thorns
“A noble—”
“Look at thecarriage.”
“The horses—so white.”
A pang of disappointment stabbed Olivia. White horses ruled out Nicholas. Rolling her eyes at herself, she craned her neck toward the window. She couldn’t see much beyond the glossy back of a coach with a gilded hub and gold-painted wheels.
“He’s so braw, handsome,” someone whispered.
Olivia furrowed her brows. The ‘handsome’ ruled out her grandfather, and she’d like to say, Lord Randall, as well—but they were obviously judging on looks alone, not personality. Doubtless, Lord Randall had arrived to foist himself upon her, again.
Irritated, she strode to the door and yanked it open just as a footman—a decidedly dashing and handsome one, resplendent in the Duke of Lennox’s livery—stretched his hand toward the knob.
The man blinked, and then bowed. “His Grace, the Duke of Lennox, requests your presence, at once, for the afternoon and dinner.”
A chorus of oohs and ahhhs circled behind Olivia as she stared at the footman, surprised. What game was her grandfather playing now?
“Not bloody likely,” she retorted.
Gasps replaced the soft coos behind her. She didn’t care. She’d not dance to her grandfather’s tune. She tossed her head, but then, an image of his shoulders shaking as he knelt by her mother’s grave slipped through her thoughts. Damn him. Why did family have to be so complicated?
A twinge of guilt made her wince. “I beg your pardon.” She eyed the footman ruefully. The poor man wasn’t at fault. “My grandfather brings out my worst manners.”
A gleam of amusement entered the man’s eye. He obviously commiserated. He bowed again, this time, a full bow of respect. “Forgiven, my lady. Think no more of it.”
Lady? Olivia arched a dry brow. “However, I must still decline. I’ve work to do.”
“You’re not going?” someone blurted in a loud whisper.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Good day.” She nodded at the man.
He hesitated.
Curious, Oliva turned her head. “And?”
“His Grace…is not used to being denied,” the man murmured, eyeing her in what could only be awe.
“Indeed?” Olivia chuckled and then dusted her hands on her shop apron. “Well, most likely, this will be a good experience for him, then. Good day, sir.”
The man nodded, turned smartly on his heel and strode toward the carriage as Olivia closed the door.
“Dinner with the Duke of Lennox?” the women hissed behind their fans.
Olivia suppressed a snort. She’d eat carrots and hay with the horses first. Of course, she felt sorry for Deborah, but—
She paused and frowned, seeing her cousin in her mind’s eye, standing by the counter. She’d been so distraught. Olivia drew her brows into a deeper frown as a thought hovered on the edge of her recollection. Deborah had visited her—
Good Lord. Deborah had asked her to deliver a letter to Nicholas.
Olivia choked, horrified. She’d clean forgotten. She dashed around the counter, searching the floor and the shelves beneath.
Where had the damn thing gone?
“Mrs. Lambert? Mrs. Lambert?” she called, darting behind the curtains and running to the parlor.
The woman looked up from her darning. “Aye? What’s happened?” she asked, alarmed.
“A letter…last week…” Olivia swallowed. “A letter on the shop’s counter. Have you seen it?”
