Olivia gave him a wry smile. “I had not realized you put such stock in good form.”
Griffin shrugged. “When it serves.”
“You will have your chance with him. Did you not hear me say he will probably return tomorrow? I suggested that he do so in the afternoon when I will be gone, though if you cannot promise that you won’t challenge him, I will have to remain and act as your second, if only for the purpose of restraining you.”
“Restrain me? How do you imagine you might accomplish that?”
“Telling you would eliminate the advantage of surprise, and I will be counting heavily on that.”
He chuckled. “Very well. I will allow that you can do whatever you set your mind to and have done with speculation. Where will you be tomorrow if Sir Hadrien does indeed seek me out?”
“I am taking Nat to be fitted for some new clothes. Mr. Mason will accompany us, so have done pulling that disagreeable face.”
“I can have someone come here to fit Nat.”
“Then I wouldn’t be gone from the house, now would I?”
“I have a suspicion that you’ve been planning this, and your father’s arrival is a convenient reason to have it done.”
“I frequently marvel at your perspicacity.”
He could not think of anything to do about her saucy mouth except to kiss it. He felt the shape of her smile beneath his lips before she eagerly gave herself over. It was only with the greatest reluctance that he eventually pulled back instead of drawing her down on the chaise.
“I suppose we have neglected our duties long enough,” Olivia whispered, searching his face. She leaned forward, caught his chin with her lips, then the corner of his mouth. The tilt of her head invited him to linger a moment longer over the stem of her neck. She sighed. “I’ll have to put the wig on again, paint my face.”
“Mmm.” He caught her earlobe, worried it. He felt her shiver ever so slightly. “God, but you tempt me.” This time when he drew away he put himself outside of her reach by moving to the wing chair. He was only in it a moment before he realized the fit was not quite right. Lifting one hip, he reached beneath him and pulled out Olivia’s wig. The string of seed pearls that had been artfully arranged in the auburn curls was twisted and drooping. He poked at the pearls, saw he was only making matters worse, and gently tossed the wig to Olivia.
Griffin slid into a casual incline in the chair and watched Olivia work. He observed her deft and nimble fingers while his mind wandered to certain details that had been left out of her account.
“Did you ask Sir Hadrien how he came to be here?”
She shook her head. “I imagine Alastair told him that he’d returned the ring to you. That would have brought him here straightaway.”
“Have you had any correspondence from your brother?”
“No, but if he’s been at Coleridge Park, then he hasn’t yet received my letters.”
Griffin considered that, wondering if the explanation was as simple as that. “Then Sir Hadrien’s concern was all for the ring, is that right?”
Olivia glanced up, frowning. “I hope I did not lead you to believe it was ever anything else. He was grateful for the attention paid to keeping the family name well out of it. I told him he had you to thank, so perhaps he will.” She bent to her task again. “Sir Hadrien had some idea that he would accept me in place of the ring, but I disabused him of that notion. He thought I might suit someone named Reginald Sewell, Lord Pearce.”
“Pearce? Is he still alive?”
“So it would seem. Apparently he would not expect me to bear his children, so that is something.”
Griffin’s left eyebrow rose in a dramatic arch. “Indeed.”
Olivia finished with the wig, then held it out in front of her for a final inspection. “You would not consider exchanging me for the ring, would you?”
“I hope that is not a serious question.” But then he saw that it was, in spite of her attempt to say it lightly and put it before him as though it had only just this moment occurred to her. “Do you still trust me so little, Olivia?”
She’d hurt him, she realized, and rushed to explain herself. “No, that’s not it at all, or rather I did not mean you should put that construction upon it. I am not so confident that I don’t require reassurance now and again.”
“You know,” he said after a moment, “that marriage might improve your confidence.”
“I thought we were done with Lord Pearce.”
“Amusing.”
