“When Thorn severs his ties with you, I will be there to comfort him,” Lady Millicent said, her spine rigid with defiant fury. “So save your pity for yourself. You will need it. When I am finished, you will have no friends in London.”
There was nothing left to be said unless she intended to challenge Lady Millicent to fisticuffs. Olivia could not think of another lady more deserving to be knocked on her arrogant backside. With her chin up, she wordlessly offered the young lady her back and strolled away as if she did not have a care in the world.
Even though her innards quivered like jelly.
Lost in thought, Olivia’s unfocused gaze cleared as she noticed that Lady Grisdale stood between her and the open doorway. Olivia smiled pleasantly at the countess, while she calmly prepared to brazen her way past the older woman without creating another emotional scene.
“Lady Millicent seems a trifle upset with you,” Lady Grisdale observed, managing to sound amused and disappointed in her.
“How can you tell?” Olivia asked. “Lady Millicent always looks as if she has swallowed a toad.”
The countess inclined her head toward Olivia’s ear. “A bit of advice, my dear. While your advantageous engagement to Lord Kempthorn has allowed many of the ton to overlook your rather charming turn of phrase and lack of Town polish, you would be wise not to make enemies.”
Still struggling to calm her nerves after her brief confrontation with Lady Millicent, she was in no mood to be reminded of her failings by Lady Grisdale. “I know who my enemies are, my lady,” she said, meeting the older lady’s gaze, letting her meaningful pause to speak volumes.
The countess’s eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. “Well, well … how most unexpected. It also answers a few unspoken questions I have.”
Another lecture, Countess?
“It will have to wait, I fear. I have tarried too long and I promised to meet a friend.” Olivia stepped away but did not lower her gaze. She could not ask her father not to marry Lady Grisdale, but from this day on she refused to allow the lady to insult her. “If you will excuse me.”
* * *
It took Thorn all of his fortitude not to rush to Olivia’s side when Lady Millicent stepped in front of her. A glimpse of the other woman’s face and his lady’s rigid stance revealed their conversation was private and unpleasant.
“What are you doing?” his brother demanded, staring at his twin in disbelief. “Should you not go to her?”
Thorn, Chance, and Gideon had been keeping an eye on Olivia ever since she had entered the ballroom. His instincts urging him to cross the large room and greet her, laying claim to her in front of Lord and Lady Howland’s guests, had earned him some well-deserved teasing from his cousin and brother. Still, his pride took a little bruising as Chance and Gideon wagered on how long he could resist dashing to Olivia’s side.
“How the mighty have fallen,” Chance had joked, causing Gideon to laugh.
The two men had unintentionally irritated Thorn, and stubbornness had kept him from approaching Olivia. His decision had left her baffled and uncertain if she should join him. With regret, he realized she might have been hurt by his indifference. Instead of rushing to him, she had slowly turned away and had run into the one person who took delight in making her miserable.
“Olivia can handle Lady Millicent,” Thorn said with confidence, earning a quizzical look from his twin. “Very well, a slight exaggeration. However, she would not appreciate it if I chased off every person who was rude to her.”
After an obviously tense exchange, the two ladies parted and Olivia walked away from Lady Millicent to speak with Lady Grisdale.
“The countess is not very fond of your lady, Thorn,” Chance murmured as the three gentlemen continue to watch Olivia with undisguised interest.
“I do not trust her. She has been filling Olivia’s head with a bunch of nonsense. However, it is difficult to avoid the lady one’s father intends to marry.” Thorn said, his hands curling into fists as he resisted the urge to march across the ballroom and separate the two ladies.
“Has Lord Dewick offered?” Chance asked.
There was something in his cousin’s tone that caught Thorn’s attention. His gaze switched from Olivia and Lady Grisdale to the marquess. “What have you heard?”
Chance shrugged. “Just rumors, I suppose,” he said dismissively.
“Olivia has left the ballroom,” Gideon said.
Thorn scowled at his twin. “You wait until she leaves the room before you tell me?”
Gideon sneered. “Are you not worried everyone might believe you are enthralled by your lady if you chase after her?”
His twin knew just the raw nerve to press.
“Go to hell, brother,” Thorn growled as he stalked across the ballroom to find Olivia.
* * *
Olivia had lied when she had told Lady Grisdale that she was meeting someone.
Between Thorn keeping his distance, Lady Millicent furious with her for spreading gossip about her failed engagement, and the countess’s smug lectures, Olivia could not spend another minute in Lady Howland’s ballroom. She had taken sanctuary in a rather small and uninspiring anteroom that connected to the card room. Their hostess had filled it with potted ferns and roses, and the earthy scents comforted her.
Olivia was not alone. The Howlands’ town house was not as large as Lady Purles’ and she assumed the guests who had discovered the small room had lost interest in playing cards. She had found an empty chair in one of its gloomy corners and claimed it while contemplating the notion of leaving the ball early.
Thorn deserves an icy reception from me. The scoundrel abandons me to the tender mercies of Lady Millicent and Lady Grisdale. As my betrothed, he should have come to my aid—
Olivia abruptly straightened in her seat. She hadn’t needed Thorn to rescue her, had she? She had stood up to both ladies and had walked away unscathed. A hint of a smile played across her face.
“You are the prettiest bloom in the room,” Mr. Chauncey announced as he halted in front of Olivia and bowed. He glanced about the anteroom, and what he noticed caused the frown forming on his lips to become more pronounced. “Ferns and roses—what was Lady Howland thinking?”
“It does have a certain charm, do you not agree?” Olivia said, rising from her chair. She curtsied and remained standing since she did not have a seat to offer him.
She laughed at the gentleman’s appalled expression.
“I am teasing, Mr. Chauncey,” she said, still smiling. “It is good to see you again.”
“The feeling is mutual, Miss Lydall,” he said, a look of concern shadowing his blue eyes. “I had high hopes of spending more time in your company. However, your recent engagement to Lord Kempthorn has spoiled my plans and dampened my spirits.”
“I do not understand.”
In an unexpected gesture, Mr. Chauncey displayed his gloved hands in front of him with his palms upward in an unspoken invitation for her to place her hands on top of his. It was odd for the gentleman to behave so boldly, but she considered him a friend so she obliged him by complying with his silent request.
His thumbs moved to hold her hands in place as his fingers curved around hers until their hands were clasped. Olivia peered past the gentleman’s right arm but none of the other guests seemed to be paying attention to her and Mr. Chauncey.
“Did you wish to speak privately with me, sir?”
“Indeed, I do,” Mr. Chauncey said. He took several deep breaths and offered her a wobbly grin. “Forgive me, Miss Lydall. I am not a man of action or clever words, so I will get straight to the point.”
When he did not elaborate, she nodded to encourage him to continue.
Mr. Chauncey grimaced, and his intense expression darkened as he held her gaze. “Miss Lydall, I believe your father has made a dreadful mistake in consenting to your engagement to Lord Kempthorn.”
Her lips parted in astonishment. “I beg your pardon.”
“I
know you love and respect your father, Miss Lydall,” the gentleman continued. “You are a dutiful daughter and you would never defy Lord Dewick. Nevertheless, I must speak from my heart and warn you that the earl does not possess the temperament to appreciate a lady such as yourself. It is my greatest fear that your gentle spirit will wither in his care, and I cannot bear such a thought.”
Although she disagreed about his denouncement of Thorn’s character, her eyes softened with affection for the gentleman who believed he was protecting her. “Mr. Chauncey, I do not—”
“I want you to break your engagement to Lord Kempthorn,” he continued, pressing forward as his hands threatened to crush her fingers. “I wish for us to marry, Miss Lydall.”
“Step away from my betrothed, Chauncey.” Thorn’s angry voice startled her and her companion.
Mr. Chauncey had the good sense to release her hands and increase the distance between them.
Thorn was not alone. His cousin, Lord Fairlamb, and his brother were standing behind him. From their grim expressions, all three gentlemen had overheard Mr. Chauncey declare his intentions.
In an attempt to distract Thorn from throttling her friend, Olivia moved until she was standing between the earl and Mr. Chauncey. “So you finally remembered that you have a betrothed,” she said, her voice sharpening as she recalled his boorish behavior in the ballroom.
Thorn spared her a brief glance of exasperation before his attention returned to the gentleman behind her. “If you were about to accept Chauncey’s proposal of marriage, you are hardly in a position to accuse me of being forgetful.”
“I am engaged to you, Thorn,” she said, keeping her voice low. They were already drawing enough attention. “I see no reason to consider other offers, unless you disagree.”
Thorn glanced down at her, and her annoyance faded as she saw the stark relief in his gaze. His fingers caressed her cheek. “I do not. I will hold you to our agreement, Miss Lydall.”
It was not a romantic declaration of love, but they had an audience. Allowances must be made.
With a firm nod of her head, she glanced back at her friend. “As you can see, Mr. Chauncey, I must decline your offer.” Olivia placed her hand on the earl’s arm. “Shall we return to the ballroom?”
“Chance, will you escort Olivia downstairs?” Thorn asked, gently nudging her out of the way and toward his cousin. “Mr. Chauncey and I have unfinished business.”
“No,” she said, her voice laced with stubbornness. “I will not have you threatening my friend.”
“I can speak for myself, Miss Lydall,” Mr. Chauncey said lightly, his expression revealing that he was not intimidated by the earl. “Is this brute truly worthy of your tender heart?”
“You have more pressing issues to worry about than Olivia’s heart, Chauncey,” Thorn said silkily. “Do you wish to name your seconds, or shall I send my brother to your residence in the morning?”
Thorn intended to challenge Mr. Chauncey to a duel.
Olivia sent his brother a beseeching look. “Gideon, this is madness. Will you reason with Thorn?”
She gasped when he shook his head.
“I expect to be one of your seconds, brother,” Gideon said.
“As do I,” Lord Fairlamb added, holding Olivia back when she tried to approach the earl.
“I forbid this!” Olivia said, her voice rising as the other guests gave her sympathetic glances and whispered to one another.
Soon, news of the duel would spread throughout the ballroom.
Mr. Chauncey was unimpressed. With a calculating glint in his eyes, he said, “If you murder me in cold blood, Miss Lydall will never forgive you.”
“I do not have to kill you, Chauncey,” Thorn said, his voice thick with menace and an eagerness to commit violence. “A bullet in your leg will cool your ardor for my betrothed.”
“Such arrogance,” the gentleman scoffed. “Harm me and we shall see who the lady chooses.”
“Is that an invitation, Chauncey?” Thorn taunted. “If so, I accept.”
He punched Mr. Chauncey in the jaw, causing the man to stumble backward as he fought to maintain his balance. Several of the ladies in the anteroom shrieked, including Olivia. In response, her friend took a wild swing at the earl and clipped him on the shoulder.
Thorn landed a solid punch into Mr. Chauncey’s stomach.
“Stop them,” Olivia said to no one in particular.
Thankfully, Gideon and Lord Fairlamb were already heading toward the two fighting men with the intention of separating them.
“Pay attention, Lord Kempthorn,” she shouted to be heard over the commotion. “There will be no duel. Do you hear me?”
Thorn turned and glared at her. “Your opinion is noted, Miss Lydall,” he growled. She took a backward step away from them. “Now heed mine. Do as I have asked and get the hell out of here or there will be consequences for your defiance.”
“If you bind yourself to this man, you will come to regret it, Miss Lydall,” Mr. Chauncey said, rubbing his sore jaw.
“Leave us!” was Thorn’s thunderous command.
Olivia flinched at his fury. Speechless, she turned and fled.
Chapter Thirty-One
Olivia had not returned to Lady Howland’s ballroom.
As magnificent as Thorn’s temper was, he would soon learn that he could not order her about as if she were a disobedient child or his wife. She also refused to acknowledge the irony of her actions when she hid in the cloakroom and watched the front door through a narrow gap in the door for Mr. Chauncey to appear. After his confrontation with Lord Kempthorn, she did not expect the gentleman to remain.
Ten minutes later, she saw her friend striding through the front hall.
But before she could call out his name, he was out the door.
Olivia widened the gap in the cloakroom door and slipped out of the room. She headed toward the front door and rushed after Mr. Chauncey. Thorn had done his best to intimidate the poor man, and she wanted to assure him that in spite of the earl’s threats, there would be no duel.
She refused to permit the two gentlemen to fight over her and with a little persistence she was confident that she could persuade Thorn into rescinding his challenge.
“Mr. Chauncey!” she called out to the departing figure that disappeared into the shadows. The wind caught her skirt and sent it fluttering like two flags around her knees. She pushed the fabric down with her hands. “Wait for me!”
Olivia staggered after him. She slipped between two of the coaches, using them to buffer the wind and restore her dignity. Cupping her hands together, she shouted again at the top of her lungs, “Mr. Chauncey!”
The gentleman stopped and cocked his head to the side.
“Mr. Chauncey, please wait!”
The gentleman turned around and saw her. “Miss Lydall?” he said, striding toward her. “What are you doing here? The weather has worsened. It isn’t safe to be running about unescorted.”
Grateful that he stopped, Olivia said, “I could not have you leave without speaking to you first.” Her curls caught the wind and lashed her across the face, blinding her. Annoyed, she brushed her hair back. “It is about the duel.”
Mr. Chauncey shook his head with dismay. “Come along. My coach is just ahead. We can sit inside and talk.”
Her throat already hurt from all of the shouting, so she simply nodded. The gentleman took her by the arm and led her to his coach. In the darkness, it looked like most of the others. Mr. Chauncey opened the door to the coach himself and pushed her inside. She sat down on the bench with the expectation that he would join her.
From the doorway he said, “I need to speak with the coachman. I will return shortly.”
She waved him away as she again pushed her hair out of her eyes. A few minutes later, Mr. Chauncey appeared. The wind knocked off his hat and he disappeared to retrieve it before it rolled away into the darkness.
“It is a wild night,” Mr. Chauncey said, climbing into the
coach. It took him several attempts to shut the door. “What the devil possessed you to chase after me?”
“I had to speak to you before you left,” Olivia said, recalling what had driven her out into the night. “Lord Kempthorn—he spoke in anger. There will be no duel.”
The coach rocked on its springs as it wind howled.
Mr. Chauncey clasped his hands together as he deliberated on her words. “No offense, Miss Lydall. Kempthorn would have shot me on the spot if someone had handed him a pistol.”
Olivia slumped against the back of the seat. How could she refute what she had witnessed with her own eyes? She covered her hand over her face and willed herself not to cry in front of her companion.
“There, there, Miss Lydall,” Mr. Chauncey said, reaching over and awkwardly patting the hand resting on her lap. “Here.” There was soft clink, and curiosity had her pull her hand away from her face. He had produced a small flask from a hidden pocket in his coat. “Drink this. It is nothing stronger than my favorite port. It will calm your nerves.”
Olivia accepted the flask. “Thank you.” She took a tiny sip and started to hand the flask back to him.
He motioned her to take another sip. “Violence is upsetting to a lady. It will take more than one sip to loosen the knot in your stomach.”
Her husky laugh was absent of any humor. She swallowed some more port. “The knot is actually in my throat.” Another sip.
Mr. Chauncey grinned. “Then by all means, empty the flask.”
Olivia shook her head and realized that she did feel better. As promised, the knot that had threatened to strangle her slowly eased. “No, I have had enough.”
She handed him the flask and this time he accepted it. He tucked it away in his inner pocket.
“Miss Lydall, may I speak bluntly?”
Olivia blinked owlishly at him and nodded. Now that the danger has passed, she was suddenly fatigued. “We are friends, Mr. Chauncey. I value your opinion.”
Waiting for an Earl Like You Page 28
