Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,95

around Olivia, he couldn’t be himself around anyone.

Chapter Nineteen

Olivia paced the house like one of the deer Papa was presently out stalking. Mama wouldn’t be back from her visit to the rector for at least two hours, and then she and Olivia would go to London. Olivia had a number of reasons she must see Thorn again, mostly related to the items she’d left in her laboratory at her estate. It had nothing to do with wanting to work things out between them. No, indeed.

What a liar she was. She did want to work things out.

Yet every time she thought about apologizing to him for what Mama called her “overreaction” to his characters, her blood heated and she couldn’t think straight. Mama was right about one thing. Olivia had an involuntary reaction when it came to Thorn and his plays. She just kept imagining herself and Mama on the stage being mocked by the audience.

She plopped down into her favorite window box, which overlooked the garden Mama so diligently nursed along. She had to get past this. Why couldn’t she?

Their butler came into the room, appearing decidedly flustered. “Miss, there’s a man here to see you who claims to be the Duke of Thornstock.” He skimmed his gaze over her wrapper and nightdress, then said blandly, “Do you wish to . . . see him?”

Her heart began to race. Thorn was here? Dear Lord. “Yes.” When their butler raised an eyebrow, she added hastily, “I’ll see him in the garden. That will give me time to dress.”

Their butler was right—she couldn’t see Thorn like this, for heaven’s sake.

The minute their butler left the room, she flew up the stairs, calling for her maid. Thankfully, her maid was able to get her dressed and her hair put up in under an hour.

When next she was on the stairs, she walked as primly as Mama always wanted her to. But her blood was pounding, and her hands were clammy, no matter how much she told herself that he was the one who should be nervous.

She found him near the rosebushes, looking pale and lost and still handsome, even in profile. Why must he always look so delicious, even when she wanted to stay angry at him?

“Your Grace?” she said.

He turned to her, relief on his face. Now she could see his impossibly blue eyes filling with remorse. “You’re here,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“And so are you. Why have you come?”

“To tell you that Elias is dead.”

That caught her entirely off guard. “Dead? How?”

“Poisoned. By arsenic, we think.”

Her heart sank. “And you’re here to ask me if I’ll test his remains to be sure.”

Judging from his startled expression, she’d managed to catch him off guard. “What? No. We don’t need you . . . I mean, there’s no reason. The dead rats around his food pretty much confirm he was poisoned by arsenic. I merely thought you should know so you wouldn’t worry anymore about him escaping and coming after you. Or sending the man who hired him after you.”

“I—I wasn’t worried about that.” She gazed at him. “At least not until now.”

“But you needn’t fret. He had no visitors, which means he couldn’t have told the man who hired him that you were doing your experiments elsewhere. So you’re safe.”

She stared down at the pebbled garden path. “Then . . . was that the only reason you came?”

“Certainly not.”

The vehemence in his tone gave her hope. She lifted her gaze to him expectantly.

“I came to say how very sorry I am,” he said. “I have no excuse for not telling you right away about Grasping and Slyboots. Or at least telling you once I knew you liked the plays.”

She swallowed. “Why didn’t you?”

“By the time we started talking about the plays . . . I was already beginning to like you. To remember why I liked you when we first met.” He threaded his fingers through his beautiful hair. “I knew you’d be hurt to realize I’d based Lady Slyboots and Lady Grasping on you and your mother, so I kept quiet rather than risk hurting you. I was a coward, pure and simple. I should have told you long before.”

She was still taking that in when he added, “But I come bearing a gift that I think, I hope, will make it up to you.”

So help her, if he gave her a piece of jewelry like Papa always gave Mama when he’d done something beyond the pale,