“And what did you study?”
“History…or was it English? Perhaps both.”
“Don’t you know?”
“Of course,” he replied. “I’m only jesting.”
“An education at Oxford is to be envied,” Olivia said. “My brother is always saying how much he appreciated the experience. He’s sponsoring the education of a tenant’s son.”
“A tenant? Such as…afarmer?”
“You disapprove?”
“O-of course not,” he said, his forehead creasing into a frown.
“The boy’s currently at Eton,” Olivia said, “and my brother means for him to go to Oxford afterward. I used to teach him at the school in the village. Exceptionally clever, he is. I’m sure he’ll do very well.”
“Youtaught in a village school?”
“You disapprove of women having an occupation, Mr. Arnott?”
“I know ladies often bestow charity on the less fortunate,” he said, “but few children can boast of being taught by a titled lady.”
“Oh, I’m not…” Olivia began, but the dance came to a close and applause rippled through the company.
Mr. Arnott bowed over her hand then lifted it to his lips.
“I must thank you for your excellent company, Lady Olivia. Such unmatched pleasure that I am in pain now it has come to an end. I trust, in the interests of not furthering my pain, you’ll permit me to claim another dance.”
Ordinarily Olivia would have laughed at his affected gallantry, but after weeks of receiving snubs at every ball she attended, she allowed herself to enjoy a little flattery.
“I’d be delighted, sir.”
“Then I’ll come and claim you for the set after next.”
He brushed his lips against her hand again, then escorted her back to her seat beside Eleanor. He bowed to Montague and took Eleanor’s hand. Eleanor gave a slight frown and tilted her head to one side, unsmiling as he kissed her hand. Then he clicked his heels together and returned to the dance floor.
“A gallant young pup,” Montague said. “Decent enough, but a little too quick to ingratiate himself. But I daresay that’s due to the inexperience of youth, which can make a man lose all sense when engaging in conversation with a beautiful young woman.” He glanced at Olivia. “I take it you found his conversation pleasing?”
“Pleasing enough, brother,” she said. “When there are so few willing to engage in conversation with me, I must accept what there is.”
“You shouldn’t feel compelled to enjoy his company,” Eleanor said.
“You didn’t like Mr. Arnott?” Olivia asked.
“I’ll grant, there are worse men to spend an evening with. Besides, whether I like him is immaterial. It’syouropinion that matters. I rarely like anyone, but I’ll give Mr. Arnott credit for one thing.”
“Which is?”
“His eagerness for your company, dearest. That shows good judgment.”
Olivia smiled, a nugget of hope swelling in her heart. A young man, fresh from Oxford and eager to dance with her, was something to treasure. And, as Montague had said, she wasn’t in need of scores of young men eager for her hand.
She only needed one.
She glanced across the ballroom, and her eyes once more fell on the scowling giant in the corner. A shiver rippled through her as he shifted his gaze toward her.
Eleanor was right. There were worse men to spend an evening with.
