“And where willIbe?”
“Why, beside Mr. Culpepper. Every dinner. For the next fourteen days.”
***
Hoyt had never seen someone choke on their own tongue before, but he had a feeling he was witnessing it now. When Olivia’s mouth began to take on a distinctly blue hue he raised his hand, ready to slap her on the back, but to his relief - and amusement - she managed to clear her throat without assistance.
“What?” she sputtered, loud enough to gain them an audience of curious onlookers. “That’s - that’s absurd. I cannot sit next tohim.”
“Why not?” Duchess Abercorn queried.
“Yes, why not?” Hoyt echoed, sliding his hands into the side seam pockets of his trousers.
“Because…” Olivia’s eyes brewed green fire as they flashed between her mother and Hoyt. “Because he is intolerable!”
“Are you?” the duchess asked him, arching a brow.
He lifted a shoulder. “From time to time.”
“Excellent,” the duchess declared. “So is my daughter. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful pair.”
“Mother-”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have other guests to attend to.” As Olivia’s mother glided away, she turned on him with the ferocity of a lioness.
“I amnotsitting next to you at dinner,” she hissed, grinding her heel into the floor.
He lifted his hands, palms facing outward in a gesture of feigned helplessness. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, my lady, but you’re not exactly fine company yourself. Unfortunately, I’d hate to repay your mother’s wonderful hospitality by defying her seating chart. Those are hard to organize, you know.”
Twin plumes of pink appeared in the middle of Olivia’s cheeks. “She’s doing this on purpose.A wonderful pair.She’s not even bothering to be subtle about it anymore.”
“Subtle about what?”
“Marrying me off to the first man that can stand the sight of me.”
“Marrying you off to the first man who… wait!” He fell in step behind his recalcitrant dinner partner as she sailed out of the music room on a huff of hot air, his gaze straying a bit further down than polite society would have deemed permissible. But how could he stop himself?
Olivia was beautiful was she was calm.
She wasgorgeouswhen she was angry.
The color in her cheeks reminded him of a sunset and her eyes burned like emeralds set aflame. For too long, he’d found himself surrounded by pale, prim princesses afraid to step outside less they get a smudge of dirt on their perfect hemline and here Olivia was charging full bore for the front door, her glorious curls bouncing in her wake as every step loosened the pins trying to hold them in place.
A footman hastily opened the door and she sailed through it without breaking speed. Hoyt tipped his head at the fellow, commending him for his quick reflexes, before he hastened his own stride so as not to lose sight of Olivia when she went around the side of the house and through a rose garden to a white gazebo.
“Better?” he asked, pausing with one foot on the top step and his arms braced on the supporting pillars.
“A bit,” she said, her bosom heaving from the exertion of her hasty exit from the manor as she leaned against the railing. Once again, Hoyt’s gaze slipped further down that it should have. “I can’t… I can’tbreathein a room like that. Full of people staring, all of them silently questioning why I didn’t turn out like Janeor Bethany. All of them feeling sorry for my mother and father. Sorry forme, that I am the way that I am.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said quietly, his eyes seeking her face. For the first time, he made himself look past the beauty. Past the anger. Past the stubbornness. All the way down to the dismay and the self-doubt.
How many others, he wondered, bothered to search that far? From what little he’d observed thus far, it was clear that the Duke and Duchess of Abercorn adored all three of their daughters. It was also equally clear that the eldest two were held in far higher regard by thetonthan the youngest, and Olivia wasn’t oblivious - or immune - to High Society’s opinion of her.
No matter how much she pretended otherwise.
“That’s because you’re an arrogant American,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You don’t feel sorry for anyone.”
“True,” he acknowledged. “Why do you think men cannot stand the sight of you? I find you breathtaking, myself. You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen, Olivia. That is not a compliment. It’s a fact.”
