Page 36 of My Secret Duke
Olivia had not noticed Felicia sidle up to her, but from her mother’s expression, she was overjoyed with this new family disgrace.
“The dowager must be beside herself,” she added, and now there was no hiding her smile. “You know that Prince Nikolai has left?”
Olivia stared. “What do you mean?” It occurred to her to demand to know if her mother had been behind those notes, but Felicia was already speaking again in that excited manner. As if it was impossible for her to hold the words in.
“He came back from the picnic, packed up his things, and returned to London. Your grandmother was incandescent with rage. Do you know she and the prince’s grandfather had an affair once? There was even talk of divorce.”
“Divorce?” Olivia stammered. “But that is—”
“Disgraceful?” Felicia said the word with relish. “Your grandmother was not always as beyond reproach as she would have you believe. I’ve wondered about that sanctimonious Humber too. Who knows what goes on between the two of them when the bedchamber door is closed?”
“Stop it,” Olivia hissed. “How dare you talk about Grandmama in that hateful way.”
Felicia’s smile fell, and right then, she looked dangerous. As if she was capable of anything. “How dareshereplace Harry with his bastard and push me aside? I won’t put up with it, not any longer.”
And with that, she left the room.
Olivia stared after her, wondering if she should follow and demand to know what her mother was planning, but her head was aching, and suddenly, it was all too much. She made her own escape into the garden.
For a time, she simply walked, letting the smells and sights of nature soothe her. Without meaning to, she found herself once more at the archery targets. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel Ivo’s lips on hers, and his arms clasping her tight. It felt like a dream, and it may as well have been one. Ivo had gone back to Whitmont to do heaven knew what, and the prince had left without her being able to secure his affections, or his promise. Olivia should be in despair, but rather to her own surprise, she found she wasn’t.
It was as if this recent disaster had only solidified the decision she had been working toward.
She didn’t need to go to Holtswig after all. There were plenty of eligible gentlemen in London, and at the time she had made her debut, there had been plenty of interest in her. She had felt a little giddy at all the attention, as if she could take her pick, and if it hadn’t been for Ivo distracting her, she might well have done so.
Why couldn’t she finish her Season and make a sensible choice this time? The prince would not propose now—why had she pinned all her hopes on him? Besides, trying to keep him in a good mood was exhausting. She had other options, and knowing that filled her with new hope.
She wasn’t going to languish here at Grantham. She was tired of others deciding how she should live her life. Tired of trying to shoehorn herself into a future that didn’t fit.
Olivia wondered if she could discover a path that was particular to her. Follow it and find, at the end… Well, she wasn’t sure what she would find. Happiness, maybe. Contentment, perhaps. But whatever she found, whichever direction she went in, was for her to determine, and no one else.
Chapter Sixteen
When Ivo and Charles arrived at Whitmont, the evening shadows were stretching long over the lawn, while the water from the fountain with its mermaid statue shone in golden droplets. The setting sun turned the many windows on the Tudor house to gold, and the smell of cut grass was in the air. It was home to Ivo, and had been home to his ancestors for hundreds of years, and yet right now, the place seemed unnervingly quiet. Unfamiliar. Ivo felt that tickle of unease increase as he and Charles dismounted.
A servant came to take their horses, and a moment later, Carlyon hobbled down the stairs.
“Sir, sir, I tried to stop them!” he wailed. “I said they had no right, but there was a document—”
Close behind him was Lieutenant Harrison, neat as a pin in his uniform, with a smirk on his face. He called out in an almost jaunty voice, “We had permission, Your Grace. The law was behind us.”
“What does he think he’s doing?” Ivo growled. On the journey from Grantham to Whitmont, he had been worried, but now he was angry. Harrison’s disrespectful behavior was not something he was used to, and it left him feeling worried and discomposed.
Charles put a hand on his arm, and Ivo swung to facehim, hasty words on the tip of his tongue. Charles raised an eyebrow.
“Think before you speak,” he said in a low, urgent tone. “Indignation and bluster are good—youarea duke after all—but don’t allow yourself to be pushed into a corner.”
Ivo wondered who Charles imagined he was speaking to—certainly not a man who had been in the smuggling game since he was twelve years old. All the same, it was a timely reminder. Charles had as much to lose as Ivo. Since he was not a duke, then possibly more. They were in this together.
Harrison came to a stop before them. “Your Grace,” he said, with the smallest of bows. “My apologies for cutting short your social engagement. Your man,” with a dismissive glance at Carlyon, “thought it imperative you be present while we searched your house.”
“I tried to stop them!” Carlyon wailed again, wringing his hands.
“You searched my home?” Ivo asked in a voice trembling with outrage. “This is beyond impertinent. What right have you to do such a thing, Lieutenant?”
Harrison might have flushed—the light was getting dimmer by the moment—but he didn’t back down. He had always been a stickler for the letter of the law as he saw it. Ivo might mock his unbending manner, but it meant Harrison was unlikely to turn aside if he saw something happening that he considered irregular. That made him even more dangerous.
“I have an order from Lord Ralph Anderson that permits me to search your home. Sir.”
