Page 83 of House of Thorns
Again, his face hardened, and again, she saw the flash of anger beneath his mask.
She made up her mind, at once. She wouldn’t linger in the man’s company a moment more. “Good day, my lord.”
She hurried away, ignoring his calling of her name. He followed her for a time, but when she turned down her street, she spared a quick glance over her shoulder to see him no longer there.
Relieved, she hurried into the shop.
“It’s time, lass,” Mrs. Lambert said, grinning widely.
“It’s time,” Olivia breathed in response.
* * *
The dress felt as wonderful caressing her body as it looked in the mirror. The gold silk fell in soft folds, and the detailed stitching on the bodice glittered in the candlelight. Deborah had used gold thread. Olivia twirled in the mirror, feeling like a queen.
Poor Deborah. If only she could enjoy this evening without the threat of blackmail hanging over her head—but then, with Lord Deveraux at her side, along with Mr. Timms and his men at the ready, perhaps soon, the blackmailer would be found.
She smoothed the skirt one last time, then hurried down the steps and into the parlor.
At the door, she paused. The evening looked like so many others. Her father playing his piano, lost in his music, with Mrs. Lambert darning in her chair by the lamp.
“You look like a princess, lass,” Mrs. Lambert grinned, her mole hairs dancing in agreement.
Olivia smiled, gliding to her father, and planted a kiss on the top of his head.
This night, he merely smiled absently in return and continued to play. It was just as well. Why disturb him?
“Lord Blair awaits you in the shop,” Mrs. Lambert nodded toward the curtains.
His name made her pulse quicken, and with a quick smile, Olivia slipped from the parlor and into the shop.
A single candle burned on the counter where Nicholas stood, dressed in black with a crisp white shirt, an elaborately tied gray cravat, and his black, silk-banded hat in his hands. The look in his eyes sent a tingle down the back of her neck.
“Come here, lass,” he invited, his voice low.
He caught her fingers as she joined him and dropped a kiss on her knuckles before lifting his hand above her head to twirl her around.
“Hold still, my love,” he whispered in her ear.
The coolness of a metal chain encircled her neck and she glanced down. A diamond pendant lay against her collarbone. “What is this?” she gasped.
“A gift,” he murmured, brushing his lips on the tender flesh beneath her ear. “Wed me.”
Olivia shot him a scowl. “Must you tease me so? Be serious, if only for this night.”
“Iamserious.”
“Come now, Lord Blair, you’re a rake, and a man above my means.” She crossed to the hook and removed her pelisse and hat. Truly, it was a shame to cover the splendor of her dress, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Is this so wide a gulf you cannot cross?” he asked when she returned.
Olivia reached up and tweaked his nose. “Enough. No more foolishness.” Then, her lightheartedness faded away. “The blackmailer—”
“Will be caught,” he finished her sentence firmly.
She nodded.
“Then allow me?” he asked, holding out his arm.
