CHAPTER 3
Phineas was delayed getting to Dumpkins’s study by, ironically, Olive’s brother. Ash L’arbre was a likable sort of fellow, but now that Phin knew how talented the man was at cards, he refused to allow himself to be drawn into another game.
By the time he reached the study, more than a quarter hour had passed, and when he stepped inside and realized Olive wasn’t there, his assumption was she’d arrived, then left, because she thought he wasn’t coming.
He was standing there in the middle of the room, his fists planted on his hips in disappointment, when a sound at the door had him whirling around. Hope flared in his chest, and when he saw her lovely, curious head pop around the edge of the door frame, it settled into a sort ofrightness.
“Ye came,” he breathed, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Thank ye. Ye had nae trouble?” he asked as he crossed the room to pull her in and shut the door behind her, lest they be seen.
The room was lit dimly with gas lamps, and Olive meandered around in a sort of daze, her head cocked back to stare up at the shelves upon shelves of books.
“I was…detained by Tiffany,” she murmured. “She wanted to know why I looked so flustered. Good heavens, do you think that is an original Chaucer?”
Distracted, Phin started. “What? Oh, aye. It’s original.” She’d looked flustered? “What did ye tell her?”
Still staring up at the books, Olive murmured, “I told her I was off to meet a legend in the dark.”
She didn’t.
She told someone she was meeting him?
A legend?
“Olive!” He reached her and took her hand, wishing—not for the first time—she wasn’t wearing gloves. “Ye told yer friend ye were doing something scandalous?”
The moment her full attention landed on him, Phin felt that same sense of rightness sweep through him once more. And then she grinned.
“Oh, do not worry about Tiffany. She does not mind a little scandal. In fact, she helped me sneak away from the party so I could join you here.”
Phin blinked. “Oh. Good.”
They stood there in silence for a few heartbeats longer. He was utterly enchanted by the warmth in her eyes and the flush of excitement on her cheeks. And of course the way she bit herlower lip when the moment stretched just a shade longer than was comfortable.
“Are you really Aberdeen Jones?” she finally asked.
He squeezed her hand lightly. “Aye. I’m sorry, although I dinnae ken why I’m apologizing.”
Her breath suddenly burst out of her, and she seemed to deflate. The smile she offered was sheepish. “No,Ishould be the one apologizing. I thought you were trying to impress me with stories of your adventures, which I knew were Aberdeen Jones’s adventures. The thought of a man trying to impress someone likemewas disconcerting enough I never stopped to consider you might be telling the truth.”
“Why wouldn’t a man try to impress ye, Olive?”
The question startled her. Her head reared back as she peered up at him, as if trying to determine if he was mocking her.
“I am… I know I am not accomplished.” Her lips tugged ruefully upwards. “The Duke of Cashard made certain to point that out.”
“The duke’s an arse.”
She blinked at his quick condemnation. “Well, perhaps. He was certainly cold enough to be one.”
This wasfun. “Oh? Are arses cold?”
Olive made a point of glancing downward at his kilt. “I suppose they can be a bit drafty. What does one wear under one of those?”
He waggled his brows. “Want to find out?”
It was gratifying the way her eyes widened, flashing thoughtfully with interest, before her lips quirked ruefully. “I would like to find out why you invited me here.”
And she’d come. Alone. In the dark.
