Her mother had selected the violet gown for her. Never in a thousand years would she have chosen such a soft, frilly dress. It hadlaceon it. She hated lace. She’d also hated sitting still while her lady’s maid had gone at her hair with a pair of hot tongs and an army of pins. Left to her own devices, she’d have made do with a plain braid and the pair of breeches she’d paid a stable boy for and kept hidden under bed less her mother find them and burn them, as she’d done the last pair. She even had acorseton. Although she preferred to call it what it really was: a torture device. Meant to squeeze the air from a woman’s lungs so that she couldn’t contradict a man when he said something idiotic.
“Like the daughter of a duke.” Hoyt twisted toward her, resting his elbow on the top rail of his chair. “This isn’t what you were wearing this morning.”
“People have a special ability you may not have heard about before. It’s called changing their clothes.”
His rich laugh turned a few heads from two rows in the front of them and created an odd fluttering in her belly.
Likely indigestion from the corset.
“Are you always this sarcastic?” he asked, grinning at her.
“Do you find me sarcastic? I’ve always been told that I am a delight.” Pointedly, she turned her head to the stage. “Quiet, if you please. My sister is about to begin.”
“Your sister?” The hand he’d placed on the back of his chair inched toward her own and she nearly jumped a foot in the air when his fingertips casually glided across her exposed nape before settling on the rail ofherchair. “The program said therecital was being performed by the duke and duchess’s eldest daughter.”
He was too close, she thought crossly. Even worse, he smelled divine. Like pinewood with an underlying hint of the soap used to clean leather. And she hated that she’d noticed. Hated even more that she found his scent pleasing when she didn’t want to likeanythingabout him. Not his face, which was also quite pleasing. Not the color of his eyes. Not the crease of a dimple that had flashed high on his right cheek when he’d chuckled. Especially not his accent, with its flat vowels and husky undertones.
“Yes,” she said in a clipped tone, keeping her gaze pinned straight ahead. “My sister, Jane. The eldest. Tomorrow, Bethany, the middlest, will be performing an original song.” Her chin lifted a notch. “I am the youngest.”
“Then that would make you Lady Olivia.” The way he spoke her name - like a velvet caress - had her toes curling in her too-tight slippers. “Aren’t you full of surprises. And what talent will you be gracing us with, my lady?”
“Hopefully, the ability to make arrogant Americans disappear with the snap of my fingers,” she retorted, bringing her thumb and middle finger together. “Pity. I’ll have to work on it.”
He chuckled again, angling his head so that she felt his breath against her neck as he murmured, “Do you want to go practice somewhere else?”
Was this it, Olivia wondered as the edges of her vision grew hazy and the butterflies in her belly went mad. Theitthat she’d heard other ladies, including her own sisters, giggle about behind open fans and closed doors. The thing that made them act all sorts of peculiar, like when Bethany, who was terrified of heights, had snuck out her bedroom window to meet Thomas in the moonlight. Or when her friend Elizabeth, otherwise sensibleand of sound mind, had gone for a stroll with an earl and married him six months later.
Olivia wasn’t sure.
She’d never felt it before.
She’d never felt likethisbefore.
Warm and flushed, almost as if she was about to come down with fever. Except she wasn’t ill, she was tingly. From head to toe, her entire body was a mass of tiny little vibrations. Every sound was louder than it should have been. She couldhearher own pulse roaring in her ears. She could discern the thrum of her heartbeat. And even though hair had no feeling at all, she could have sworn she felt Hoy’s fingers gliding along the edge of a rebellious curl that had already escaped the confines of her coiffure.
“I…” Her throat was dry. She swallowed, then tried again. “I would very much like if you would leave me be so that I can give my full attention to my sister.”
Hoyt’s shrugged. “As you wish, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Pinching her lips together, Olivia stared unwaveringly at the stage where Jane was about to begin her first sonata. And she tried. Shereallydid. For the first piece, and even the second, she didn’t look at Hoyt. She didn’t even breathe in his direction. But she couldn’t help but be aware of him. He was simply too large to ignore.
By the third song, an exceedingly slow rendition of Mozart’sRequiem in D Minor, she was all but squirming in her seat. She simply wasn’t designed to sit still for such a long period of time, and she definitely wasn’t meant to sit next tohim. The American bane of her existence. But if she left, she feared he would follow her. And if he followed her… if he followed her, she was very afraid of what might happen next.
When the recital finally reached its conclusion, Olivia was the first one out of her chair. She made a desperate lunge for thedoorway, but - as was the case this morning - she wasn’t quite quick enough to escape her mother’s purview.
“Olivia!” called the duchess, and the crowd obediently parted to make way as she cut an elegant path from the front of the room to the back. “Olivia, darling, you’re still here. What a lovely show of support for your sister.”
“Yes,” she said with a false sense of airiness. “You know me. Always happy to sit through a three-hour recital if it means being able to listen to Jane’s remarkable musical talent. But now that it’s over-”
“Mr. Culpepper.” The duchess’s gaze went over her shoulder as the corners of her eyes creased in a smile. “How nice to see you again. Have you been introduced to my third daughter, Lady Olivia?”
“Your Grace.” Hoyt’s flawlessly executed bow caused his thigh to brush against hers before he straightened, took her hand, and brushed his mouth across her gloved knuckles before she had the wherewithal to snatch it away. “I had the immense pleasure of meeting your daughter this morning. She is an absolute delight.”
The duchess’s smile grew wider. “Sheis, isn’t she? I am so glad you both have already had the opportunity to make each other’s acquaintance. It will make dinner so much more enjoyable.”
“Why is that?” Olivia asked warily.
“I’m so glad you asked. We’re doing our seating chart a bit differently this year. Instead of changing each night, I’ve assigned everyone a partner. I will be next to your father, of course. Jane and Bethany will be beside their respective husband and fiancé.”
