“Olivia!”
Lucian turned to see who was calling out to his brother’s betrothed and groaned.
Had his thoughts conjured the most difficult woman in England? If so, it certainly had not been his intention.
“What is she doing here?” Lucian demanded.
“I invited her to the wedding,” Olivia answered.
“She is forbidden from setting foot on Wyndhill Park,” Lucian reminded her but knew that he would not be able to have Eliza removed.
“A rule you put in place, what, ten years ago when she was barely out of the schoolroom,” Xavier reminded him.
“Almostten and she had been eighteen.”
“She also belongs at my wedding,” Olivia insisted.
Miss Eliza Weston was desire and temptation, aggravation and irritation, wrapped up in one exquisite package, and a menace to them all. Or at least a danger to him, and only because he could not have her and she’d be impossible to tame.
He had been flummoxed for the slightest moment when she had stepped onto the terrace, just as he was almost every time he saw her in London, which was thankfully rare. Coppery red curls framed her face and the remainder of her hair was tied up behind her head, though some still brushed her shoulder. Her grey eyes glinted silver, which was a sure sign that she was up to mischief. However, it wasn’t just her hair and eyes that Lucian noticed but the ice blue gown with a scooped bodice that hugged her breasts.
Desirable but also a troublemaker, Lucian reminded himself, as she weaved her way through the gathered crowd.
“It is so good to see you again, Lord Garretson,” Eliza greeted him with a bright smile.
“I am so happy you could make it.” Olivia held out her hands to Eliza as her friend drew close.
“Of course I would be here,” Eliza proclaimed. “You are marrying one of the Sinclairs that I actually do like.” She grinned at Lucian.
“You are to confine yourself to the manor and formal gardens and terrace, Miss Weston,” Lucian insisted. “No going off to places you do not belong.”
“I would not dream of trespassing,” Eliza answered as her eyes glinted with silver.
Blast! He would have to keep an eye on her. Despite her assurance, Lucian did not trust her.
“Excuse us for a moment.” Xavier tugged Olivia’s arm and pulled her away.
Lucian could not believe that he had been left alone with Eliza of all people.
“How have you been, Lord Garretson? I have not seen nor heard anything of you since last autumn when we both visited at your sister’s home.”
He had been able to avoid her then, except for dinner, and he would avoid her these next two days as well. “I am well. Thank you.” He was not going to engage Miss Weston in conversation any further than was polite and necessary.
“It is good of you to host the wedding celebration.”
“He is my brother.”
“Olivia’s brother could have hosted the event,” she pointed out.
“Marriages usually take place where the groom resides. It is where the banns are to be cried.”
“Yet, it seems to pain you to host.”
He stared into her eyes. “It pains me to have so many guests underfoot, especially those who would normally be banned.”
Eliza smiled. “If you are referring to me, I am not staying here, but elsewhere.”
Thank goodness for that. At least he would not need to worry about stumbling across her when it was least expected.
