“Lady Devereaux won’t believe them. Besides—you sent her a gift.”
Fool!Charles smacked his fist into his palm once more.You think a gift is enough to atone for the distress I’ve caused her? I want to make her happy. I care nothing for myself, only her.
John stared at him, then placed a hand on his arm.
“Then that’s all that matters, sir.”
They continued in silence until they reached Charles’s lodgings. John ushered him into the parlor, then returned with a brandy glass, which he placed in Charles’s hand.
And, by heaven, was he in need of it!
But it wasn’t the fear that the duchess knew whom he’d been visiting. It was the realization, brought about by Anne Brown’s observations, and Charles’s own admission regarding his desire, above all other things, that Olivia not suffer any distress.
Which meant only one thing.
He was in love with his wife.
Chapter Thirty
Olivia glanced upas someone knocked on the parlor door.
“Come in!”
It opened and Colin entered. “Miss Faulkes for you, your ladyship. I believe you’re expecting her?”
He stepped aside to reveal Nicola, holding a package.
“Thank you, Colin,” Olivia said. “May we have some tea later? At four o’clock? I believe there’s some shortbread left.”
“Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Groves made a new batch yesterday and Mr. Reynolds hasn’t eaten it all yet—though come four o’clock, it might have all gone.”
He winked, then bowed again and exited the parlor.
“You oughtn’t to let him speak so freely with you, Olivia,” Nicola said, embracing her. “You’re the mistress. He’s just aservant.”
“I’d rather the staff were happy here,” Olivia said. “In any case, I suspect my upbringing was similar to his.”
“But you’re acountess, with a duke for a brother.” Nicola sat, then held out the package. “I visited the post office on my walk here and took the liberty of picking up this parcel for you.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, taking the package. “Oh! It’s from Eleanor—her hand is so distinctive. There’s always something so exciting about receiving post.”
“I can’t say I’ve thought about it, seeing as I’ve never received any letters. But I don’t have a duke for a brother.”
“Montague never writes to me,” Olivia said with a laugh. “He dislikes letters, both writing and receiving them. Eleanor says that’s because men only receive letters of business containing demands for the settlement of an account, or instructions to undertake some tedious task.”
She began to unwrap the package then hesitated.
“Would you mind awfully if I read Eleanor’s letter now? I’ve not heard from her for some time.”
“Of course not,” Nicola said, smiling. She rose, then crossed the floor to the window and looked out. “Mr. Baxter’s making progress on the garden, I see. It must have cost Lord Devereaux an awful lot.” She glanced toward Olivia. “Of course, it’s not my place to speak of it. I see Jacob’s helping him again today—which explains why he’s not been at Pa’s farm this week.”
“I couldn’t have made the arrangements without Jacob’s help.”
“Well, he is Lord Devereaux’s heir.”
Olivia glanced at her friend, who was staring out of the window, her eyes filled with longing.
“Shall we join him later, Nicola? I can show you the gardens and introduce you to Mr. Baxter. His wife, Lady Arabella, is a friend of my sister’s.”
