“Do not make the mistake of underestimating my tenants, Lady Elizabeth. They are very upset with me for being late with the repairs they desperately need,” he said sadly.
Elizabeth’s heart ached. She couldn’t imagine the feeling of being responsible for the well-being of so many. She knew how much he needed additional funds, and suddenly wondered why he hadn’t proposed matrimony to her yet.
He was obviously as sober about the process as she was, so hope for love wasn’t the motive for his hesitation. Perhaps he wasn’t sure of her acceptance yet.
Yes, that must be it,she decided, and resolved to express her interest in him more clearly.
“I am certain you will soon be able to complete all the repairs.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“I thought you were good at reading people.”
Oliver smiled at her, and she shyly averted her eyes. She felt she had made progress.
When the dance was over, he led her to the refreshments so she could enjoy her habitual lemonade.
“Why do you always do that?” he asked her while his right hand played with the flower arrangement on the table.
“Do what?”
“Smell the glass first before taking a sip.”
Elizabeth had no idea she had been doing that and was delighted that the Corporal had observed her so intently.
“I like the smell of lemons.”
Harding pulled out a rose from the bouquet and brought it to his nose, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply.
“What about roses?” He asked in a suddenly deeper voice as he lifted the flower to her face.
Lizzie’s lids fluttered shut as she inhaled the (too sweet) fragrance of the rose, but they flew open when she felt its velvety petals touching her lips.
Oliver’s eyes were dark as he stared at her mouth. She gasped slightly, and he quickly drew his hand back and blushed. Elizabeth looked around to see if anyone had observed the intimate moment, but it seemed no one had.
“I apologise, Lady Elizabeth, I-” he stuttered.
Elizabeth found it endearing. It told her he was no practised seducer, which she was happy about.
“It's time for our second dance,” she said with a smile and hoped he understood that she hadn’t minded it at all.
Before she knew it, the waltz had passed in a flurry of movement, smiles, and pleasant conversation. Before Harding handed her over to the Duke, the two men exchanged greetings and some pleasantries. Elizabeth was amused at their stiff and empty interaction.
“Do these consecutive dances mean we will soon hear the banns being read for you two?” Talbot asked her in a friendly, teasing tone.
“Nothing’s been settled yet,” she answered with a smile that betrayed her. “I didn’t know you frequented a pugilist’s parlour!” she said accusingly, for some reason.
Talbot’s confusion was visible on his face, so she clarified, “The Corporal told me he visited a parlour you’d recommended.”
“Ah. Not any parlour, mind.Gentleman Jackson’s Saloon, run by bare-knuckle champion John Jackson,” Talbot said proudly.
“I just never imagined you having an interest that is so… undignified,” she mocked.
“I’m no sailor, but I’m still a man.”
“I thought you were a duke and not a man.”
He grinned.
