“Lord Devereaux, are you quite certain that you cannot take tea with us?” Eleanor said. “It seems a pity, given that the next time we meet will be your wedding. Don’t you wish to spend time with Olivia?”
“I’m afraid my master has an appointment scheduled with his banker,” his companion said. “Perhaps another time.”
An appointment with his banker. Presumably he was eager to secure the dowry.
More eager to do that than spend time with me,Olivia thought.
The beast moved his hands again—hands that were large and strong enough to tear a wild animal to pieces, and yet the motion had a fluidity and grace that rendered them more elegant than the perfectly manicured hands of any fine lady.
“My master wishes to convey his sincerest regrets,” the companion said, “and his assurances that he’ll present himself, as required, at the wedding.”
So formal an address, delivered as if Lord Devereaux were promising to present himself before a magistrate, or an executioner, to suffer his penance.
“Th-thank you, sir,” Olivia said. “I’m sorry for…”
The beast raised his hand and shook his head. He moved toward Olivia, and she caught the earthy, primal scent of him. She tilted herhead back to meet his gaze as he towered over her, and a warmth shimmered in the air as their bodies almost touched. He reached toward her, and she caught sight of the signet ring on his right hand, a thick gold band set with a ruby to match the one now adorning her own finger. She held her breath in anticipation of his touch that had sent a pulse of longing through her before.
Then he let out a sigh and withdrew his hand, running a fingertip over the surface of the ruby.
Olivia shivered as if his rejection cast a frost in the air.
He bowed, stiffly, and his companion followed suit. Then they strode toward the main doors, accompanied by Montague. After a brief exchange, they stepped out onto the street and she flinched as the door slammed shut behind them.
Unable to stem the tears, Olivia let them slip down her cheeks while her brother pulled her into an embrace.
“Have no fear, Livvie,” he said. “He’s not like other men, but that may be to his advantage. And he signed the contract, so you’re protected by the law, at least.”
“I don’t want to have to be protected, Montague,” she said, “at least not from him.”
“It’s just a precaution,” he replied. “For all his outward appearance of uncongeniality, he’s an honorable man who will treat you better than most.”
“Hardly the best recommendation,” Eleanor said, a sharp edge to her voice. “Montague, perhaps you should refrain from—”
“H-he didn’t even want to spend time with me!” Olivia said.
“Gentlemen are notorious about wanting to keep their appointments.”
“But not about spending time with the women they’re supposed to—”
Olivia broke off.
Supposed to what? Love? Lord Devereaux didn’t even like her, letalone love her.
In fact, he couldn’t even tolerate her company.
Her brother let out a sigh, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “You’ll have the rest of your lives to spend in each other’s company.”
The rest of her life…
With a man who didn’t want her—who couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her.
Olivia clung to her brother. Montague had a reputation for sternness that was well deserved, but he loved her. And now, she was about to remove herself from his protection and place herself into the hands of a man capable of snapping her in two if she displeased him.
Chapter Fourteen
Bland organ musicthreaded through the air as the chapel began to fill with guests.
Or, at least, one side of the chapel.
