“Heavens, no!” Lady Grisdale tittered. “However, I have grown quite fond of you this past year, Olivia. Although I would not presume to replace the mother you have lost, I hope we will be friends and you will view me as someone you can turn to for advice.”
Wariness overshadowed any desire to befriend this lady. Every time Olivia had let down her guard, Lady Grisdale had a nasty habit of using any knowledge she had gained from their conversations against her.
“Thank you, my lady,” Olivia said.
“Your father is not a good judge of a gentleman’s character,” Lady Grisdale declared, obvious that she was insulting the man she claimed she loved to the man’s daughter. “That is why you need me, Olivia. Lord Dewick feels the earl will honor the engagement and marry you.”
“It is the natural progression of these arrangements,” Olivia said, struggling to keep the wariness out of her voice. “Is it not the same for you and my father?”
“Bien entendu!” The countess glanced sideways at her, using her tongue to make a soft chiding sound. “It is that way when a man and a woman fall in love as your father and I have. Nevertheless, your arrangement with Lord Kempthorn is different, is it not?”
Lady Grisdale might be correct in her assessment of Olivia’s hasty engagement to the earl, but it did not make it any less hurtful.
“You must tell me everything Lord Kempthorn says to you,” the countess continued. “If the man is on the verge of ending this engagement, I will be able to tell by his words and actions.”
Olivia thought of Thorn’s insistence for them to meet at midnight. Perhaps he did wish to end their arrangement immediately. A part of her was tempted to seek the countess’s advice, but her past experiences with the lady filled her with caution.
Instead she said, “You are always so generous, my lady.”
Lady Grisdale scowled as if she doubted the sincerity of Olivia’s words. Whatever she planned to say was forgotten as they entered the box. Delight filled both ladies’ hearts as Lord Dewick stood.
“Dewick, I knew you would not disappoint me,” Lady Grisdale said, moving toward the gentleman she intended to marry.
Olivia longed to rush to her father’s side, but she slowed her pace as the countess and her father greeted each other. They were planning to build a life together, and it wasn’t her place to interfere. Before she could reach her seat, a gentleman stood and turned to face her.
“Miss Lydall.”
Olivia halted. “Mr. Chauncey,” she said, not concealing her surprise or delight. “This is most unexpected. What are you doing here?”
“I came to pay my respects to you and Lady Grisdale. However, by the time I arrived, you and the lady were gone,” the gentleman explained. “I was about to take my leave when your father entered the box. Apparently the countess left him a note with a promise that she would return, so the baron invited me to join him.”
Lady Grisdale smiled at the young gentleman. “Mr. Chauncey, it is so good to see you again. I hear Dewick managed to procure you a seat in our private box.”
“Yes, madam,” Mr. Chauncey said, casting a quick glance at Olivia for support. “Unless I am intruding.”
“Not in the slightest. The more the merrier, I say,” the countess said. “Olivia, why do you not sit beside Mr. Chauncey?”
“I would be honored,” Mr. Chauncey said, gesturing at the empty chair.
Olivia stared at the countess and wondered why the lady was so eager for her to remain at Mr. Chauncey’s side. Unfortunately, Lady Grisdale was no longer paying attention.
“I have been looking forward to the opera,” she said, seeking a neutral subject.
“As have I,” Mr. Chauncey replied. “I also was hoping to see you again. I must confess that when I departed your residence I was quite disheartened to learn of your engagement to Lord Kempthorn.”
There was little to be gained by admitting that she had been startled by the news as well.
“You must forgive Lord Kempthorn,” she said gently. “He had just acquired my father’s blessing and then he found me sitting in the drawing room with another gentleman. It is only my opinion, but I suspect he was jealous.”
Mr. Chauncey looked intrigued by her explanation. “You don’t say. Hmm … I suppose if I had been fortunate to be in his position, I would have reacted in the very same manner.”
Was the gentleman hinting that he had been seeking a more intimate connection with her? Why had she not noticed his regard sooner? Olivia and Mr. Chauncey shared many interests, but he was so reserved. She assumed he viewed her as wild and capricious as Thorn believed her to be.
She leaned forward and peered down at the pit. “Lady Grisdale and I arrived just in time since it appears the opera is about to begin,” she said, lowering her voice. She sensed his amusement as she deliberately avoided his gaze so she did not have to acknowledge his comment.
Her attention drifted from the orchestra to the multiple tiers of theater boxes. Where were Thorn and St. Lyons seated? The earl had mentioned they were in the Duke of Rainbault’s private box but she did not know which one belonged to His Grace. Her gaze alighted on Thorn a few minutes later. He was seated one tier down and closer to the stage than Lady Grisdale’s private box. She recognized His Grace, St. Lyons, Lord Fairlamb and his wife, and several others.
He wanted me to sit beside him.
Lady Grisdale would have never granted her consent, but Olivia was touched he had wanted her with him.
For appearances, you silly goose!
Seated beside Lord Kempthorn would have sent a loud declaration to the ton. While the countess had discouraged the earl for the sake of propriety, Olivia wondered if her father would give his consent. She glanced at Lord Dewick.
Perhaps it is not too late to join Thorn and his friends.
Olivia switched her attention back to Thorn and noticed he was no longer seated. He was standing at the back of the box. His head was bowed as he spoke to someone who was notably shorter than him. She could not tell who he was speaking with, but a glimpse of a white skirt revealed his companion was a lady.
After a few minutes of discussion, the earl escorted Lady Millicent to the front of the box. Thorn murmured something to Lord Bastrell and the viscount stood to offer the lady his seat.
Had no one told Lady Millicent that Lord Kempthorn was betrothed?
Olivia fumed as she watched the viscount move to another seat while Thorn settled in beside the young lady.
“Is something amiss, Miss Lydall?” Mr. Chauncey murmured in her ear.
“Why do you ask, sir?” Olivia asked.
The audacity of that conniving creature!
“You—uh—are tapping the blades of your fan against my knee.”
Olivia gasped. “How thoughtless of me,” she said, embarrassed that she was practically flogging the gentleman. “I offer my sincere apologies, Mr. Chauncey. Are you hurt?”
“No harm done,” Mr. Chauncey said, his expression filled with warmth. “Although I will gladly relieve you of your fan if are worried about my well-being.”
The gentleman was teasing her, but Olivia still winced.
She opened her fan and stirred the air around her face, proving she was capable of behaving like a lady. “My father would tell you that I have too much energy to sit idle, and I tend to dispel it in odd ways.”
“I can sympathize,” Mr. Chauncey said, leaning so their faces were inches apart. “When I am distracted, I tend to hum.”
“Oh,” she said, feigning interest.
“Badly,” he added, and Olivia laughed with him.
She looked away and her gaze drifted back the Duke of Rainbault’s box. Lady Millicent had shifted to speak privately with the earl. Her shoulder brushed his in an intimate fashion, which did not seem accidental. Olivia frowned at the woman who had taken great pleasure tormenting her when they were children. She truly detested the woman.
After witnessing this amorous display between Lady Millicent and Lord Kem
pthorn, Olivia decided that she would keep her meeting with the earl. She had a few things to say to the scoundrel.
Theirs was likely to be the shortest engagement in history.
Olivia was so annoyed with Lady Millicent’s brazen behavior that she had overlooked her companion. She started as she realized Thorn was staring directly at her while Mr. Chauncey whispered a humorous story in her ear.
The earl looked very displeased with her.
She held her chin up, signaling that she did not care one whit about his temper.
I dare you, her defiant pose conveyed. Not that she expected the earl to act on it when he had Lady Millicent clinging to him like a poisonous barbed vine.
The rumbling D-minor cadence of the overture filled the theater, commanding silence from the spectators. Olivia took a deep breath and switched her attention to the stage in anticipation of enjoying the opera.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Olivia was twenty minutes late.
Thorn was unaccustomed to waiting for a lady. Olivia Lydall, nevertheless, seemed determined to prove that she was the exception to his personal rules that had kept his life uncluttered with the emotional mayhem his friends often faced when it came to women. If she thought she could punish him for some imagined misdeed, he planned on setting her straight.
If anyone deserves to be furious, it is I.
A whisper of fabric brushing against the hedge wall and a muffled oath alerted him to her approach. Belatedly, he realized that he had forgotten to tell her where to meet him in the garden. Some of the tension in his neck and shoulders eased. She might have been waiting for him near the fountain or closer to her father’s rented town house.
Her curls were slightly disheveled and she was breathless when she appeared. “There you are,” she said, walking toward him. “I know I am late. You never told me where we should meet.”
He ignored her accusatory tone since he was at fault. “I was distracted at the time,” he said, extending his hand.
Olivia walked by him and stared at the blanket he had placed on the ground. “What is this?”
Instead of heading to the center of the hedge maze, he had selected one of the corners, with hedges that were shaped like castle turrets. The gravel path circled the perimeter of the hedge walls, leaving a grass-cushioned center.
“A late supper,” Thorn explained as she quietly noted the oil lanterns he had lit to chase away the gloom and the hamper of food he had yet to unpack. “I thought you would be hungry after an evening at the theater.”
“It is very considerate of you,” she said, still avoiding his gaze. “Where did you find the time?”
“I didn’t,” he said succinctly. “I had my cook prepare the basket while we were at the theater.” He took a deep breath. “You are annoyed about Lady Millicent.”
Olivia turned to face him and he almost took a step back. She was bloody furious. Her hazel eyes gleamed in the lamplight.
“Now why would I be upset?” she asked with false sweetness. “I am certain I am not the first lady who had to sit and watch her betrothed flirt with another lady in front of half the ton.”
Inwardly, he cringed. Put that way, he was a coldhearted villain. Nevertheless, he was affronted that she thought he would behave so detestably. Thorn strode up to her.
“And what of your behavior, Miss Lydall?” he argued. “I had invited you to join me, and yet it was Mr. Chauncey who sat beside you in Lady Grisdale’s private box.”
“You dare to accuse me?” she shouted. “I had no choice but to return with the countess. Unbeknownst to me, my father had invited Mr. Chauncey to remain. What was I supposed to do?”
He gave her a mocking smile. “I could tell you suffered egregiously in the gentleman’s company.”
Olivia poked him in the chest. “And what of you—you duplicitous swine! You and Lady Millicent spent half the evening with your chairs pressed so closely together, I thought the chit would fall into your lap.”
Thorn thought of the lovelorn glance Chauncey cast at Olivia, and he wanted to tear the man apart with his bare hands. “Jealous, my love?”
“No more than you were when you saw me with Mr. Chauncey,” she hissed. “I have lost my appetite. I am returning to the house.”
He caught her by hooking his arm around her waist and hauling her backward until her back was flush against his chest.
“Let me go!”
“Stop wiggling and listen to me, damn you,” he said, tightening his hold until she gasped. “You must have been blind with jealousy when you saw me with Lady Millicent. Do you know why I know? Because that is how I felt when I saw Chauncey sitting beside you. If I had confronted him, I would have grabbed him by the coat and tossed him out of the box.”
The fight went out of Olivia and she sagged against him. “You had no reason to be jealous of Mr. Chauncey.”
Thorn loosened his grip on Olivia so he could turn her until she faced him. Tears misted her cornflower-blue eyes, and he regretted yelling at her. “Lady Millicent has convinced herself that I will make a tolerable husband.” At the sudden heat in Olivia’s gaze, he added, “However, I am engaged to you.”
Olivia pursed her lips. “Given the impermanence of our engagement, I doubt Lady Millicent cares.”
“So eager to rid yourself of me, are you?” he sneered.
She struggled to push him away. “Yes!”
“Then why should I not seek the company of another lady?” he taunted, holding her close. As she resisted, his anger was heating and transforming into another kind of passion. “Someone who desires me. A lady who longs for my kisses.”
Olivia’s eyes flared. “Fine. Go to her. I do not care.”
Several teardrops slid down her cheeks.
Ignoring her protests, Thorn cradled her against his chest. “Olivia … Olivia,” he sighed. “Stop fighting the inevitable.”
She tipped her head back to glare at him. “What?”
“Us.” Thorn captured her face with his hands and he kissed her.
Olivia tried to pull away from him, but he was determined to win this argument. His lips glided over hers as his teased her lips to part for him. It was a silent battle of wills. She thought she could resist him because he had spent so many years building walls between them. He shattered his restraint with a single word.
Inevitable.
How could she resist fate?
Thorn had invited her to a midnight picnic in the garden with the simple notion of charming her. Courting her. He had tasted the passion between them, and privately conceded he craved more.
His jealousy and her resistance had pushed the limits of his control. It was with reluctance that he dragged his mouth from hers. “I am not interested in Lady Millicent. I never have been. I want you.”
With a bemused expression on her face, Olivia watched as Thorn removed his evening coat. He discarded it, and his fingers worked to unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat. “Wait, you cannot undress—not here.”
He grinned. “Why not? No one can see us.”
“That is hardly the point, Thorn.” Olivia brought her hands up to her face when he tugged the hem of his shirt from his breeches. “Oh no, I cannot believe you are doing this.”
Thorn untied his cravat, which helped to ease the tightness in his throat. The length of linen fluttered and settled on the blanket. “Come here,” he said, though he was the one who moved toward her and pried her hands from her face.
“No more lies, Olivia.” He bowed his head and kissed the side of her neck. “You can share your secrets with me,” he whispered, his trail of kisses following the line of her neck to her shoulder. “Admit that you want me as much as I want you.”
“Thorn.” Olivia groaned as if he was tormenting her. “We should not—” She pressed her face into his shoulder.
“Denial strengthens your mind,” Thorn agreed, sweeping her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He liked how she felt in his arms. “Indulgence is good for your
body and soul.”
With great care, he knelt down and placed her on the blanket. Olivia stared up at him, her eyes revealing her desire and innocence. Her chestnut curls shimmered in the light from the lanterns, and her well-kissed ruby lips were moist, beckoning him to taste her again. Her pale skin looked as if she bathed in moonbeams. She reached for him.
Thorn clasped one of her hands to his heart. He had never seen a more beautiful woman as Olivia Lydall. Staring into her eyes, he was enthralled. The night air was warm and scented with the fragrance of flowers, vegetation, and earth. It vibrated with energy conjured by their mutual desire.
Thorn lowered himself, using the palms of his hands to brace himself so Olivia did not bear the full weight of his body. He dipped his head and she lifted hers to meet his hungry lips. A new tension imbued his body as he anticipated touching her again.
Their mouths merged and Olivia kissed him with a boldness that was unexpected and thrilling. Without thinking, he dragged her hand lower and silently encouraged her to explore the growing rigidity of his cock. She started as her hand covered him, and he could feel the heat of her flesh through his breeches.
“Does all of it belong to you?” she whispered, slightly awed by the size of his cock.
“Why would you think otherwise?” he teased, kissing her nose.
“Once I overheard one of my governesses tell one of the maids that her lover stuffed cotton down the front of his breeches. She lamented he was all fluff and no c—”
He kissed her before she could finish. “You were too young to hear such saucy gossip.”
Olivia pressed her hand against his cock and stroked him. His unruly flesh hardened. “You never answered my question, Lord Kempthorn.”
The cheeky wench was torturing him and he prayed she wouldn’t stop. “Keep petting my cock and you will feel its full measure, love.”
* * *
Olivia had never felt more desired or out of her depth.
After her father had ordered their coachman to drive her home so he could continue his evening with Lady Grisdale, Olivia had decided to keep her midnight assignation with Thorn so she could confront him about Lady Millicent.
Waiting for an Earl Like You Page 26
