“I fear I don’t understand your point,” Olivia said.
Emma gave a slow smile. “My point is that he does have a heart. If he did not, he wouldn’t care what you wanted, and he would not feel bad for neglecting you.”
“Oh, no,” Olivia shook her head, “if he cared what I wanted, he would call off and take his leave.”
Juliet folded her hands, a faraway look coming over her. “I think it is romantic that he insists on staying and fighting for you.”
“Poppycock.” Olivia shook her head in frustration. “He is staying for his own purpose. It is as I told you before; he requires a mother figure for his sisters. I am convenient. There is nothing more to his motivations.”
“But what if you are wrong?” Juliet asked.
Olivia notched her chin up. “That is a chance I am willing to take.”
“I do wish you would reconsider,” Emma frowned, “But as you are determined to continue with this…this folly, tell us what you have done so far to dissuade him?”
Folly.Olivia drew her brow together as Madame Zeta’s fortune played through her memory. Surely she was following the correct course. Doing as she should according to her fortune. Yes, indeed she was, and she would remain steadfast. She smiled at her friends, feeling a new sense of relief at the realization.
She relaxed back against the chair and laid her fan across her lap. “I have engaged in all sorts of folly.” Olivia paused to smile. “I have bared my ankles while running through a field. Danced in the rain, neglected to wear gloves, and spoke of learned things while expressing my opinions. I’ve ridden astride in breeches several times, and allowed my posture to sag and slouch on occasion. Honestly, I’m out of ideas.”
Olivia massaged her temple. “I’m beginning to think that nothing I do will convince him to beg off.”
“You must try foul language.” Juliet tapped a finger to her chin. “Oh, and maybe a bawdy joke.”
“Please tell me that neither of you knows bawdy jokes?” Emma pressed her lips into a tight line as she studied Juliet and Olivia.
“Of course not.” The pair said in unison.
Juliet added, “Though I am sure we could learn one or two.”
“Absolutely not.” Emma shook her head. “That is going too far. We don’t want Olivia to be branded a strumpet.”
“Of course not.” Juliet shook her head.
Olivia leaned forward. “You do realize that I am still in the room, right?” She arched one eyebrow.
“Yes, of course.” Emma grinned.
“By the by, nothing I’ve done has seemed to bother His Grace in the least. I do believe I will try cussing. Perhaps a bloody hell will get a rise from him.”
“I dare say it should.” Emma gave a firm nod.
Juliet placed one hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
All Olivia could do was hope that Emma was right. More than a week had passed and true to his word, the duke was courting her. More than that, he was doing his best to woo her, and much to her dismay, he was making progress. Every time a letter or trinket arrived, her heart fluttered. Her excitement bloomed with anticipation, and when he said something scandalous or sweet, her knees weakened.
She would be a fool to think herself safe from his charm, and she was no fool. Olivia had to get rid of the duke sooner rather than later.
Today, she would embrace folly to the full extent.
Chapter 8
William stood in the entry with his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for Olivia. He’d sent her a note this morning requesting that she join him for a carriage ride. Anticipation flowed through him as he wondered what she might do today. The woman had proved herself quite capable of mischief over the past couple of weeks, and he had to admit that he found her antics endearing. It was as though he had a secret version of her. An Olivia that was just for him.
She crested the stairs clad in a blue velvet gown, and his breath caught at her beauty. The woman was stunning with her hair pulled back at the temples and flowing down her back. Her amber eyes sparkling as the copper fleck’s caught the light and reflected it back. Olivia had the regal look of a queen and the wanton appeal of a goddess. The combination was more than enough to drive any man mad.
He could scarcely countenance that no other man had swept her out from under him, but he was eternally grateful for their oversight. Olivia was an original, a lady of her own mold, and he was damn lucky to have her. He strode closer to the staircase as she neared the bottom and proffered his arm.
“Good afternoon, beauty.” He winked then raveled in her deep blush.
