“You’re planning to ride?” She gestured to the sky beyond the window. “Surely you won’t go out in this. And what could you possibly find after a week?”
“Some hint of who the fellow is.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or would you prefer I wait until he takes me by surprise again?”
“He won’t have to if you die of pneumonia.”
“Spare me all the sensible reasons I shouldn’t go, Olivia. I am not listening.”
“Men are so stubborn,” she murmured, tackling his cravat.
He gazed down at her with a grin. “Are we indeed?”
Dominic enjoyed her closeness, her womanly scent, and speculated on how well she would fit against him. He rested a hand on her slender waist. “Still a little unsteady,” he said with an apologetic smile.
Satisfied with her simple arrangement, she stepped away. “If you are as unsteady as you say, I suggest you return to bed. It is most unwise to ride. You might fall.”
“I haven’t fallen off a horse since I was eight. Although, there was that time when…” He paused as she waited, her delectable lips parted. He fought the powerful urge to kiss her. “But I suppose it’s best I don’t go into details.” Not a romantic tale. He’d gotten thoroughly soused after a nasty encounter with French troops, and Firefly, affronted, had tossed him over his head.
She glowered at him. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“No. But thank you for trying.”
She followed him from the room. “What shall I tell Doctor Manners if he comes after you’ve left?”
“Convey my sincere gratitude. I’m sure he saved my life. I shan’t require his services again. Make sure Williams reimburses him, oh, and gives him a couple of bottles of the French cognac from the cellar.”
“Very well, my lord.” With a heavy sigh, she turned and left him.
Dominic went downstairs, hoping one day to hear his given name on her lips.
*
Olivia’s thoughts wereon Redcliffe as she supervised the housemaid, polishing the silverware. He was definitely better. She’d observed his grimace when he’d moved his arm, but he was much stronger. He no longer had need of her. She must return to her duties, where she belonged.
Olivia faced the truth of her feelings. She ached to have him touch her in all those places that longed for a man’s touch. For her to touch him, his smooth skin, his hair, his body, which held fascination for her. To be held in his strong arms. Safe from a world that wasn’t kind to women. But she was alone and would remain so. And must leave Redcliffe Hall soon. She could see no other way. Falling in love with Redcliffe would only bring her heartache and eventual disgrace.
She would carry in her heart her time with him here, his wicked humor, his heated glances, and his desire for her, which thrilled her. She’d come to know him: his impatience, restlessness, kindness, and his grace. A man she would never forget, for she would not meet his like again. She came here with a poor opinion of peers, resolved to find the means to defend her father’s memory. And while still determined on that course, she was no longer impelled to seek judgment against the old earl.
At the window, she watched Redcliffe ride away through the rain in his oilskins, relieved to be alone in her office when sobs escaped her lips. She blew her nose and rose, intending to search the steward’s records again while he was away. If only she could find evidence to point to the truth, which she must have before she gave her notice. Had she missed something in the steward’s neat, flawless accounting? There was nothing listed about the horses purchased from her father. Pike left at about that time. She did not know him, so she could not judge him. But Mrs. Hobbs did.
Olivia went to the laundry room. She’d been meaning to ask the laundress why she visited Pike, but when Redcliffe was shot, she’d forgotten everything while tending to him.
The laundress was busy at her work with the housemaid, Jenny, who now assisted her. There was a neat stack of laundered and ironed linens on the table, and several of his lordship’s white linen shirts. The woman was efficient.
Olivia smiled at Jenny, the maid who had arrived in the coach from London. Quite an adventure for a young woman of twenty, but she appeared to be adjusting well. “Would you leave us for a moment, Jenny?”
“Yes, miss.” Jenny ducked her fair head and hurried out the door.
Mrs. Hobbs put aside the flat iron. “May I help you, Miss Jenner?”
“When returning from the village the other day, I saw you enter Mr. Pike’s cottage. You were not to leave Redcliffe Hall without permission. I thought I’d made myself very clear, Mrs. Hobbs.”
“I looked for you, Miss Jenner. But you were not in the house, and Pike had urgent need of my help.”
“Is he a relative?”
“My cousin. He’s been ailing. But he sent word he’s much better. He’ll be out of bed in a few days. I shan’t need to visit him again.”
“Who delivered the message to you?”
