Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,59

the only person I know who can make ‘Your Grace’ sound like an insult.”

“And you’re the only one who takes insult from a perfectly appropriate honorific.”

“Because you use it to put me in my place,” he said.

“Now you can read my mind? Perhaps you should join the mesmerizers, sir. I’m sure they would love to have a man as brilliant as you.”

“Ah, but would you love to have me?”

She took a sharp breath. “As what? Entertainment?”

“Olivia,” he said softly. “That’s not what I—”

A new voice sounded from the door. “Is my brother bothering you?” Gwyn asked. “Because he too has overstayed his welcome.” Gwyn approached them as they took a step back from each other. “Come, Thorn, you have your own house. You should probably go stay in it. Especially with our ‘long journey’ ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Thorn said, though his eyes were still on Olivia. “Very well, I’ll be here at ten in the morning. Make sure you’re both ready and packed.”

“Fine.” Gwyn pushed him. “Now go. Unless you want to hear me snoring in the carriage tomorrow, you must allow me and Olivia to get some sleep. So ‘good night, sweet prince.’”

Thorn lifted an eyebrow. “You do realize that line is spoken by Horatio to a dead Hamlet, right?”

“Is it?” Gwyn remarked, a decided glint in her eye. “I had no idea.”

“I’m merely saying I hope you’re not wishing me dead.”

“Certainly not.” Gwyn winked at Olivia. “I’m just wishing you gone so Olivia and I can have some peace at last.”

“Hmm.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Then he bowed to Olivia. “Unlike Juncker, I won’t say good night until it’s morrow. But I will wish you a good sleep, ‘perchance to dream.’”

As he walked out, she sighed heavily. She’d rather not dream tonight. If she did, it would be of him. And she couldn’t let him keep playing with her emotions. On the one hand, he seemed to have softened toward her a great deal. On the other hand, he didn’t seem to have changed his feelings about marrying, and he’d told her very firmly at Gwyn’s ball that he would never propose marriage again. So she should step carefully if she didn’t want to end up walking off a cliff into ruin.

Because this time he clearly had no intention of making even a cursory attempt to rescue her.

Chapter Eleven

They left London at a decent hour the next morning. But although Thorn had hoped to have a pleasant chat with Olivia on the way, she and Gwyn had made that impossible. Endless discussion about Gwyn’s upcoming confinement had lulled him into sleeping much of the way, especially since they’d ignored his attempts to change the subject.

Once they’d arrived at Rosethorn, he’d shown Olivia around the building he’d selected as the best location for her laboratory. But she’d insisted on having a footman—rather than him—help her set everything up.

Over the next three days, she’d also refused to let him enter the place while she was working, and when he’d protested, she’d reminded him of what had happened the last time he’d “invaded the sanctuary of my laboratory.” It was hard to argue with that, especially now that he’d seen how much damage could truly be done if one behaved heedlessly in a chemistry laboratory.

Besides, he had plenty of work to do himself—meeting with tenants, consulting with his estate manager, and, at night, trying to finish his play. He’d also attempted to meet with the constable about his father’s accident, but the man’s wife had said he was in London and wouldn’t return for a few days.

Yet, despite how Thorn filled his time, he still wished for dinners with Olivia. Or cozy meetings with her in his study or the library.

Obviously, after he’d acted like a jealous fool at Gwyn’s, Olivia was determined to make him reap the consequences of his actions. Although honestly, he couldn’t be sure if she was avoiding him or just thoroughly absorbed in her work. Whichever it was, he didn’t like it.

So when he entered the breakfast room on their fourth day at Rosethorn to find no sign of Olivia yet again, he’d had enough.

“Aren’t you up a bit early for you?” he growled at his sister.

Gwyn sipped her coffee and continued to read the newspaper. “Aren’t you up a bit late for you?”

“I suppose. It took me a while to fall asleep.” But only because he’d been trying to write. He nearly had his play done—it was only