Page 19 of My Secret Duke
Olivia blushed again. Or was she simpering?
Ivo barely managed to restrain his snort of disgust, but some part of it must have slipped out, because Olivialooked up abruptly. Whatever she saw in his face caused her eyes to narrow to blue slits. She was furious with him—there had never been anything lukewarm about Olivia.
Ivo admitted he was behaving badly, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry. Was he supposed to enjoy seeing her make eyes at another man? If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have come to Grantham at all, but he’d thought he would be able to maintain an indifferent veneer. This was torture.
She glared at him a moment longer, as if daring him to say what he was thinking, so he deliberately gave her a big smile. Hectic color flared into her cheeks, and Ivo looked away and unhurriedly began to eat his meal.
Chapter Nine
Despite the lavish spread, Olivia wasn’t hungry. She felt shaky, and even more nervous than she had been at her coming-out ball at Ashton House. So much depended upon tonight and tomorrow, and the weight upon her shoulders was immense. She let her gaze slide to the prince, watching him drink his soup with gusto. She had only just realized how clever Grandmama had been to arrange to serve his favorite dish. It was a good start. And Olivia had not missed the admiration in the prince’s eyes when they were introduced in the drawing room a moment ago.
It was just a pity that Felicia was here. And to dress in black tonight of all nights, reminding everyone that she was a widow without a husband or a title!
There was someone else Olivia wished wasn’t here tonight.
Almost against her will, her gaze moved across the dining table to where Ivo and Annette sat. Their fair heads were close, and they seemed cozy together, as only old friends could be, and Ivo had told her that was all they were—old friends. All the same, their shared smiles and intimate murmurs made Olivia’s skin itch. And the look he had just given her! What right hadheto censureher? A man who was notorious for his ridiculous behavior? It was none of his business if she chose to turn her attention to Prince Nikolai. The prince certainly admired her, and she was pleased and flattered that his feelings werealready so obvious. Everything was working out perfectly. How dare Ivo try to spoil it for her!
She had been staring too long. Ivo glanced over and caught her at it. For a moment, he looked as if he might smile, a proper smile and not that mocking one he had given her earlier. She felt her own lips twitch in response, which was infuriating when only moments before, she had been incandescent with rage. What was it about Ivo, that he could send her emotions seesawing from one extreme to the other? With a supreme effort, she turned away and stared unseeingly at her next course. It was some sort of fish covered in a rich sauce and served with vegetables. She doubted she could eat more than a bite, but her pride dictated that she at least pretend she was unaffected by Ivo’s presence. She picked up her fork, and then dropped it with a clatter as a loud shout came from just outside the dining room.
There were several gasps and a concerned babble of voices as a disheveled-looking man came running into the room. He wore breeches, boots, and a brown jacket, and was obviously some sort of groom—and a very worried one, if his expression was anything to go by. Humber had followed him and grabbed his arm, evidently with the purpose of evicting him, but the man shrugged him off. He quickened his steps, making his way to the prince, who seemed to recognize him and had risen from his chair.
“Sir, it’s Leopold! Someone has stolen Leopold!”
“Stolen?”The word exploded from the prince. The controlled young man he had been up until now, very much aware of his position, was gone, and in his place stood a flushed and angry boy on the verge of tears. “What do you mean, Otto? Explain yourself at once!”
“I went to the stables to feed him his special food, but he has been taken!” Otto was as shaken and worried as his master.
“Taken?”The prince looked about him wildly, as if expecting the thief to jump up from behind a chair.
Humber lingered behind the groom, seemingly at a loss as to what to do. “Your Grace?” he said to the dowager. “Should I…?”
Olivia’s grandmother took charge in a calm, authoritative voice. “I am sure this is nothing more than an honest mistake, Niki. Your horse is perfectly safe at Grantham.” Then, turning to her butler, “Humber? If you would see to this.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Relieved to have something to do, Humber strode purposefully from the room.
“Niki. Nikolai,” the dowager addressed the prince, who was still on his feet, “be reassured. I know how much you value your horse.”
“Stallion,” Nikolai snapped. “Leopold is an Irish stallion. His sire was owned by the Marquess of Waterford and his dam by the Marquess of Donegall. I intend to race him when he is older—he is still too young and not ready to begin his training.”
Olivia knew that horses were usually named after their owners, but Nikolai was very precise about Leopold’s family tree, and his plans for him. Almost as if Leopold was his favorite child. Annette must have thought the same because she giggled, quickly bowing her head when her mother cast her a look of reproof. Abruptly, Gabriel tossed aside his napkin and rose to his feet. “I will deal with this,” he said to his grandmother. He paused to rest his hand on Vivienne’s shoulder, before he led the prince and Otto from the room.
A moment later, Charles jumped up too, and with a muttered curse, Viscount Monteith hurried after them. Will Tremeer swallowed his forkful of fish, and then, with an apologetic glance at his sister, followed.
The dowager sighed, Felicia was smirking at her plate, and Olivia had lost what little appetite she’d had. She even considered going after the gentlemen, but her grandmother fixed her with such a stern look that she did not dare. Ivo smiled. “Do not fear, ladies,” he said, “I will stay and play the hero and protect you from this ghastly horse thief.”
“Stallion,” Annette murmured helpfully at his side. “Stallion thief.”
“Very amusing, Northam,” the dowager said, “but not particularly helpful.”
Ivo, not at all chastened, met Olivia’s gaze, and his lips quirked. Daring her to say something. It was impossible to resist.
“You mean like the sort of hero who would risk his neck to rescue a kitten?” she queried mildly.
His eyebrows lifted. “Of course! Climbing about on a roof is only one of my many heroic accomplishments.”
She wanted to giggle.
It was an echo of their conversation when she had refused his marriage proposal. Until now, she had believed it a painful moment. Were they really making fun of it?
