Page 17 of My Secret Duke
“Of course you may loathe him on sight,” Justina said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you should marry him if he does revolting things like chew with his mouth open, or if he never bathes, or if he wears a false hair piece.”
“I’m sure his title will sweeten any faults in his character.”
“Well then, it is settled.” Justina paused as she opened the door. “You will marry this prince, and I will marry…” She bit her lip. “Gabriel said he invited Charles Wickley to dinner. Do you think he will come?”
Olivia had noticed Justina’s partiality for Wickley but had kept her feelings about it to herself. Until now. “Justina, you know he can never be suitable as a husband for you. Grandmama would forbid it.”
Justina’s eyes flashed in a rare show of temper. “I don’t care about that. I’m notsayingI want to marry him, but I…” She glanced down and her voice dropped. “Ilikehim.”
Olivia patted her shoulder sympathetically, ignoring how her sister flinched away. “I know you do, but it wouldn’t work. When I marry the prince, I will find you someone else. Someone better.”
Justina’s laugh had an unfamiliar, bitter ring to it. “Of course you will.”
She opened the door and peered out, and when she saw it was safe, she left Olivia alone in the cupboard.
Olivia told herself that her sister didn’t understand. Perhaps, like Edwina, she had forgotten what it had been like at Grantham before Gabriel came along. It was Olivia who had borne the brunt of worrying about her sisters during those times, with the responsibility weighing heavy upon her shoulders. But Justina was a sensible and obedient girl, and she would accept that to marry well was for her own good and the good of her family. She would accept that Charles Wickley was not the man for her.
Chapter Eight
Ivo brushed a rose petal from his sleeve. It was late in the afternoon, and now that Annette had arrived with her parents, he had been prevailed upon by his sisters to escort the three ladies around the gardens. Which suited him. Anything to keep him out of the house and away from a possible confrontation with Olivia. There had been a few more arrivals for tonight’s dinner, but Annette had informed him that the majority of the guests would be here tomorrow for the ball. Because the London Season was still in full swing, many of those who might have attended already had engagements, and had sent apologies. However, there were still a significant number of guests who intended to come, as well as the local squirearchy.
Perhaps I can think of an excuse to leave? Urgently.
“Vivienne says that her new grandmother-in-law has high hopes of a match between them. Olivia is a very pretty girl, and although she is spirited, recently she has become much more biddable.”
Ivo only heard the tail end of the conversation, and he told himself he would not respond.He would not.But even as he thought it, he heard himself asking, “Who is this paragon the dowager has in her sights for her granddaughter?” He had meant to sound light and amused, but there must have been something darker in his tone, because the women shared a furtive glance.
“Prince Nikolai of Holtswig.” Annette’s blue eyespeered directly into his. “The prince has been persuaded to attend the dinner and the ball. The dowager knows his grandfather. She never stops scheming!”
“Aprince?” Was that the husband Olivia wanted? And why should it concern him anyway? He ignored the odd sensation in his chest—he had probably eaten something at breakfast that disagreed with him. “I imagine that would solve all of the Ashtons’ problems in one fell swoop,” he said absently, as if he had far more important things to think of.
“It would certainly be a triumph,” Adelina agreed.
Conversation dwindled. They had reached the edge of the gravel drive, where it swept up to the house, when they saw the carriage. It was being drawn by four magnificent grays, but that wasn’t what caused the three women to ooh and aah. There was a slim gentleman riding a chestnut stallion beside the carriage. He looked to be about twenty, and his back was as straight as a ramrod, while his glossy dark hair gleamed in the waning sunlight.
“Oh, do you think that’s the prince?” Lexy whispered excitedly.
As the gentleman rode past, he must have been able to see them, but did not even turn his head or acknowledge them in any way. It was as if they were beneath his notice. “He’s arrogant enough to be one,” Ivo said with a frown.
“You seem to have taken an instant dislike to him already.” Annette leaned closer. “Why is that, I wonder?”
Ivo did not meet her eyes. He could hear from her tone of voice that she was amused by him, and if they had been alone, he would have told her that any feelings he may have had for Olivia, and had foolishly expressedaloud, were in the past. As the small group turned back through the garden, the ladies full of speculation, Ivo decided it would be safer to say nothing. If Olivia thought a prince would make her happy, then that was her business and absolutely nothing to do with him. Although if shewereto ask Ivo… But no, she would never ask. The days when she sought his opinion on anything were gone.
“I may have to leave tomorrow,” he said as they reached the house.
The three of them turned to him, eyes wide. “Oh no, Ivo!” Lexy protested. “We need you at the ball! What if there aren’t enough gentlemen to dance with? You cannot go tomorrow.”
“Besides, Mama will not let you!” Adelina added this last.
“Nonsense, she knows I am very busy. I have, eh, business to attend to.” His protest sounded weak, and he wasn’t surprised when they refused to accept his excuses.
Annette took his arm in hers and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.
Ivo’s sisters had moved ahead, keen to dress for dinner, but he kept his voice low. “It isn’t because of… Well, it’s nothing to do with Lady Olivia. That is nothing; it never was. It is just that I am particularly busy at the moment.”
“Surely not too busy to spend another night at Grantham and dance with your sisters? They will be so disappointed, Ivo.”
They would, and they would punish him for it. Ivo heaved a victimized sigh that made Annette’s lips twitch. “Very well,” he said. “To please you, I will stay.”
