O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,35

that end, he had to see just how persuasive he could be.

Chapter Five

He’d never heard anyone drone on so endlessly about nothing, Oliver thought impatiently. When at last the rector closed the service and dismissed the congregation, he was out of the pew and making a beeline for the door. Catching her as she exited was his best option, of that Oliver was certain. From the very moment he’d arrived, he’d been scanning the crowd for her face. It had taken him a bit to find her. But alas, her own curiosity had been her downfall. He’d caught sight of her peeking back at him over her shoulder.

He’d thought her beautiful the night before, entering a gaming hell with a kind of brazenness that appealed to him on any number of levels. He’d always appreciated boldness in a woman, after all. Shrinking violets had never interested him. He also found himself constantly frustrated with all the rules of high society. That she was willing to break those rules indicated they were like-minded, at least in certain regards. And she wasn’t simply a girl on a lark. She was a woman fully grown and was obviously her own person. Despite his drunkenness the night before, he distinctly recalled how clear her gaze had been. There was a wisdom within it and a wealth of pain. A woman who had lived and loved and lost and had not been beaten by it. That’s what she was.

The fact that he was waxing poetic about her did not escape him. He was quite besotted with her and they’d barely exchanged more than a few words. She might be none of those things, he reflected. It could all be little more than wishful thinking on his part, that because she was so very lovely, he’d woven a fantasy about her of who she might be and what she might come to mean to him. He’d been lonely enough since leaving America and coming to England to claim his inheritance. Was it any wonder he’d spin such fanciful dreams?

As the attendees of the morning service began to spill out of the church, all of them well dressed and clearly well acquainted with one another based on their buzzing level of conversations, his gaze remained steadfastly focused on that door. When she appeared, he took note of the elderly woman who accompanied her. The Dowager Duchess of Templeton. He didn’t know the woman personally, but she’d been pointed out to him at a social event. The term dragon might have been uttered in a hushed whisper.

The dowager duchess had her gaze focused on him quite closely. So much so that the small, elderly woman actually raised a monocle and peered at him through it. Then, as if on a mission, she began walking toward him. Beside her, Elizabeth protested, but the woman simply shushed her and kept walking. He didn’t have to catch Elizabeth, he realized. The dowager duchess was bringing her to him.

“You there,” the woman said, her voice not in the least frail despite her appearance. “Why are you staring at us?”

“I was taken by the loveliness of your companion, your grace,” he offered.

Her eyes narrowed and she pinned him with a cool, speculative gaze. “I see you’ve been quite busy, sir. You know who I am and yet you are unknown to me. I should not even be speaking to you! Alas, I detest stupid and utterly pointless rules.”

“I am Lord Oliver Weston, Marquess of Whittendon, your grace. We were both in attendance at a musicale hosted by Lord and Lady Deveril,” Oliver supplied.

“I see,” the dowager duchess said. “You are aware that I have a connection, somewhat distantly, to the Ashtons… Wilhelmina Ashton, Lady Deveril, is sister to my new granddaughter-in-law, Lillian,” the dowager duchess replied. “You will come to tea. This afternoon. Four o’clock, Lord Whittendon. Do not be late.”

Oliver’s gaze was focused on Elizabeth who was blinking in shock and who appeared to be utterly panicked at the prospect. If he hadn’t seen the spark of interest in her, he might have questioned what appeared to be her complete dislike of him. But he had seen it. Her reaction to him had only altered when she discovered his title and, specifically, what his title and family seat was. Why?

“I look forward to it,” Oliver replied.

“And my companion, Miss Elizabeth Burkhart,” the dowager duchess said, “will be joining us.”

“I look forward to that, as well. Until this afternoon, Miss Burkhart, your grace.”