“I’m going for a walk.” And with any luck, I’d find Ollie, and we would sort out this misunderstanding.
“An excellent idea, miss.” She sounded more than a little relieved to be free of me, and I tried not to take it to heart.
I stepped into the corridor and shut the door gently behind me. Now, where would Ollie be at this hour? It was late enough that he would have already taken his morning ride, so I didn’t think he was outdoors, but my search of the library, drawing room, and conservatory also proved in vain. The only place I didn’t search was Ollie’s bedchamber because despite what Damon thought, that would have been highly improper.
In the entry hall, I stopped a housemaid. “Excuse me,” I said. “Do you know where Mr. Oliver Jennings might be?”
“He is away, miss. Has been since early this morn.”
“Do you know when he will return?” I asked.
“I couldn’t say, miss.” She bobbed a curtsy before continuing on her way.
Dejected, I returned to my room, much to Nora’s chagrin, and passed the remainder of the afternoon with a book.
***
My hands shook at my sides as I stepped into the drawing room. Perhaps I should not have agreed to Damon’s experiment. If only I could blend into the brocade walls. Alas, I could only search for a safe place to stand.
Ollie sat with his mother on the sofa, and they were speaking in hushed conversation—I hoped she was giving him a scolding for his atrocious behavior last night.
I thought to take comfort with Papa, but he and Lord Winfield appeared to be deep in discussion. I glanced at Damon, worried that the moment he saw me, his little experiment would begin, but he sat in an armchair, engrossed in the thickly bound evergreen book again. There appeared to be no ready companion for me, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel as if I had a place at Summerhaven.
I walked farther into the room, and a floorboard squeaked beneath my foot.
Lady Winfield looked up and smiled at me in greeting, then gave Ollie a stern look.
With a nod, he squared his shoulders and made his way over to me like a petulant child. He bowed formally, and I begrudged him a curtsy. Ollie straightened, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. Before either of us could speak, a servant appeared at the door and announced dinner.
“May I escort you to dinner?” He held out his arm to me.
I wanted to refuse him but didn’t want Lady Winfield to think poorly of me, so I lightly rested my hand over his, and we took our place at the rear of the procession.
“I trust you had a nice day,” Ollie said as we walked.
Was he in earnest? If he thought I was content to brush all that had transpired at the ball between us under the rug, he was mistaken.
“No,” I said. “I did not have a good day.”
Ollie looked at me with surprise.
We had relative privacy at the back of the group, but I still kept my voice low when I said, “Surely you understand why.”
He swallowed hard. Ollie had never liked confrontation, always preferring lighthearted jokes and smiles to serious talk and frowns. And today was no different.
“Doyou understand the implications of your actions on me?” I asked again.
He tugged at his collar. “I was not thinking last night.”
“Had Damon not been there—” I shook my head. “I should hate to even think about what gossip would now be circulating about me.”
“I did not mean to hurt you.”
“But youdidhurt me.”
“I am sorry.” Ollie’s remorse caused me to soften, and more than anything, I wanted to forgive him. But before I could move on, I needed to understand why he’d acted the way he had. I tugged his arm, slowing us to a stop in the corridor.
“Have you no explanation?” I pressed.
