Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,87
have children himself. He might have ruined Olivia for men, but she had definitely spoiled him for women. No one but Olivia would do, it seemed.
The panic he felt now was decidedly different from the one he’d felt at dinner. What if he never was able to get her back? What if he died a hoary old bachelor like Olivia’s uncle, the chemist? Another member of her family he hadn’t yet met. He didn’t even know the fellow’s name! God, he should have asked her more questions.
He would do so once he got her back. Because he would get her back. He must. He would heed her mother’s words to “give her time,” and then approach her again. Although how much time he should give her was anyone’s guess.
“What’s going on?” Gwyn asked, as two footmen came past carrying a trunk.
He’d talked Lady Norley into going ahead and packing their things with the maids’ help, in an effort to slow down the departing process. Obviously it hadn’t slowed it down by much. “Lady Norley and Olivia are leaving.”
“In the middle of the night?” She narrowed her eyes on him. “What did you do?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you assume I did anything?”
“Because it’s your particular talent—pushing away the people you care for.”
Beyond his sister, Lady Norley approached. “We’re leaving, Your Grace. Thank you again for your hospitality.” She flashed Gwyn a smile, then added, “Both of you. Olivia is already in the carriage, and she would prefer that I . . . say her good-byes for her.”
“Of course,” he choked out.
Lady Norley patted his arm. “I don’t know what happened between you, but I’ll talk to her.”
“I’d appreciate it,” he said, though he suspected that once she did know, she would be as up in arms as her daughter.
With a nod, she started to walk away, then stopped to add, “Oh, and I’ll send your footmen back as soon as we reach home.”
“Home? You’re going to Surrey and not London?” He didn’t even know where they lived when they weren’t in London. The thought that he hadn’t bothered to find out, either, made him cringe.
“Yes, home,” she said. “But it’s not too far from here. I’m sure your footmen will be back by tomorrow evening.”
He let out a breath. His footmen would be able to tell him exactly where she lived.
Lady Norley headed down the stairs, and as if drawn by one of the magnets in Olivia’s laboratory, Thorn walked over to the window to determine if he could see her in the coach. He was barely able to make out her profile. Even as they pulled away, she didn’t look up.
“You really must have angered her,” Gwyn said as she stared out over his shoulder. “That is one infuriated lady.”
“You can go back to bed any time you like, sis,” he said, turning from the window.
“Not until you tell me what happened. I won’t let you push me away this time, Thorn. It’s taken us a while to mend our broken relationship from before, and I refuse to go back to where we were barely speaking. I understand you better than you know.”
“Then you don’t need me to tell you what happened, do you?” He eyed her closely. “I’ll make it easy for you. If you can guess what the issue is, I’ll give you all the gory details.”
“Fine,” she said. “I would think it was something to do with her desire to continue as a chemist, except that I can’t imagine you taking too much issue with that beyond the possible dangers.”
He stared at her with his best deadpan face. He prided himself on having a good one, since it had served him well all these years of occasional gambling.
“So,” she continued, “if it’s not that, then it must be the plays.”
“What plays?” Too late. He was fairly sure he’d let his deadpan face slip.
“The ones you write and have Mr. Juncker stand in as playwright for.”
Shifting his gaze away, he said, “A lucky guess.”
She snorted. “Please don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve known for weeks.”
“Weeks?” He gaped at her. “How?”
She began ticking things off on her fingers. “First, I saw one of them, which included so many references to our childhood in Berlin that it was impossible not to notice.”
“Juncker is my friend. I could have told him those.”
“He may be your friend, but if he had included in his writing that many personal details of your life you would have cut him off