Page 89 of House of Thorns
Again, the applause.
Aye, Deborah was loyal enough, but it was the only word in the man’s speech that applied. Oddly, Deborah was grinning widely, nay, beaming from ear to ear as if she could barely hold her joy in check.
“Please,” the duke continued when the applause abated. “Let me introduce you to Lady Olivia Mackenzie, my heir, the future Duchess of Lennox.”
Nicholas froze.
Across the ballroom, he watched Olivia’s face change from smiling widely at Deborah to utter confusion, and then, turn into one of utmost shock.
Nicholas began to chuckle.
Cheers mingled with the applause as the duke slowly approached her, with Deborah practically skipping by his side. Of course, it all made sense now. Deborah had been in on the secret all along.
The duke stopped before Olivia, almost appearing a bit wary—but then, with the history and nature of their relationship, Nicholas could hardly blame the man.
Silence fell.
Finally, Olivia’s lips parted. “I don’t understand.”
The duke smiled. “I am correcting an error made long ago. I am bestowing upon you your mother’s inheritance. One, so rightly earned.”
Olivia swallowed, glanced around at the faces turned her way, then curtseyed.
The duke’s shoulders relaxed.
Once the applause had faded away and the music and merrymaking resumed, Nicholas threaded his way through the crowd to where Olivia stood by her grandfather’s side, smiling graciously at the well-wishers lined up to greet her.
“I’m expanding into London,” he heard her say as he arrived.
“Aye,” the duke grumbled, smiling his thanks at Lady Winthrop.
“And Paris,” Olivia pressed before turning to greet Lord Bramwell and his wife. When they moved away, she turned back to the duke and added, “You might wish to reconsider this decision. “I will never stop publishing music.”
The duke arched a brow. “Aye. No doubt, even the hounds of hell couldn’t stop you. What chance have I?” he grated waspishly.
Olivia lifted her chin. “And, my father?”
The duke’s head snapped around. Excusing himself from the crowd surrounding them, he turned to Deborah. “Show her then, lass.”
Deborah grinned and held out a hand. “Come, Olivia.” Catching sight of him, she added, “Nicholas, you come, too.”
He followed, looping Olivia’s arm through his as they left the ballroom. Somewhere, in the sea of faces, he spied his mother’s astonished face. He flashed a grin in her general direction and then, Deborah started up Arbroath Hall’s grand staircase.
“I don’t understand,” Olivia said.
“I do,” Deborah giggled. “I’m so relieved, so happy. You’ll make such a wonderful Duchess. Clearly, you were born for it, dear cousin. So much more than I.”
“But I can’t,” Olivia replied. “I could never accept such a thing, not after the way he…”
“He seeks to set things right,” Deborah assured as she led them down a corridor on the third floor.
“But my father…” Olivia began. Her voice trailed away as the strains of a piano drifted through a nearby door.
“Grandfather says to all that he is a most talented man,” Deborah said, pointing to the last door at the end of the corridor. “He seems very happy, if I may say so.”
Slowly, Olivia approached the door. Nicholas kept a step behind.
The room was a spacious one, lined with windows to welcome the gentle evening light, and with the finest of pianos placed before the fireplace. On a rose brocade sofa several yards away, sat Mrs. Lambert, her knitting needles flashing in the lamplight.
