“I was not aware of that.” He offered his arm. “I shall not do anything you do not want me to, Olivia. If I must be mute around your friends, so be it. If I must drink hot, sweet tea on a winter’s day after throwing snowballs, so be it. If I must make blackberry preserves to appease you, I will.”
He had intended to use his carefully crafted “rake” voice as a means to unsettle her, but the voice that came out was gentle and genuine, his own. The promise was, to his alarm, his own too. Despite everything, he had begun to imagine a life with Olivia, and after hearing her speak so passionately on his behalf, he was beginning to think he would not mind a future at her side after all.
I have to wonder what you would have done if you had known me then,he pondered as he watched a turmoil of emotions tighten and relax her face. Panic seemed to be the primary feeling if the whites of her eyes were any indication. She reminded him of a frightened mare, gathering the courage to kick down the stall door.
“But… you do not like snow,” she said quietly.
“I have never had a reason to like it before, but you made it sound… less miserable,” he told her, flexing his fingers, beckoning for her to come to him.
She did so, taking hold of his arm.
Lost in their thoughts, the silence somewhere between awkward and companionable, Evan led Olivia out into the night, walking toward the path between the houses. He had assumed shewouldremain at Westyork, sharing a bedchamber with one of her friends, so her willingness to come with him was something of a shock. And as they walked and the silence between them eased into something more comfortable, he felt the faintest spark of hope ignite in his chest: a hope he had never desired but could not bring himself to put out.
* * *
“Well, here we are,” Evan murmured as the pair came to a halt in the entrance hall of the Dowager House. The small manor was deathly silent, everyone already tucked into their beds.
Olivia smiled at him, forgetting that she was supposed to be intolerable and hateful. “Indeed. There were several moments, traipsing through weeds, where I thought you had gotten us lost, but here we are.”
“You noticed that?” He chuckled.
“How could I not? My ankles are stinging from the nettles, and I did not trust myself to find a dock leaf in the darkness.”
Evan looked crestfallen. “You were stung? Why did you not say? I am certain we can find some oil or something in the kitchens. The cook is always making things from the herbs in the garden.”
“I shall manage,” Olivia assured. “It is only a few nettle stings.”
He pursed his lips. “If you are sure? I do not mind escorting you to the kitchens.”
“I think you have done enough escorting for one evening,” she replied, still holding onto his arm. “I am grateful for it. Now, I must rest, for we shall have a long day tomorrow.”
Evan frowned. “Oh?”
“Youwereinformed of the hunt, were you not?”
His expression eased. “Ah, I see. I hope you will not be too bored, waiting for us gentlemen to return. No doubt, you ladies will spend the day embroidering or gossiping.”
“Oh no,” Olivia said, letting go of his arm as she moved toward the stairs, “I do not intend to stay here while you and the other gentlemen have all the excitement.”
He cleared his throat. “Whatever do you mean?”
Halfway up the stairs, she turned back and flashed him a wild smile. “My dear Evan, I mean to join the hunt.”
His horrified expression was exactly what she had hoped for, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes, of a more pleasant astonishment, as she turned back around and continued up the stairs. That night had been a truce of sorts, but the battle would begin tomorrow, and she would not allow herself to show a single morsel of weakness. The Olivia he thought he knew would retire and, with the dawn, he would find himself faced with the woman of his nightmares.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Late the following morning, just before noon, a small crowd gathered outside the Westyork Estate hunting lodge. Guests seemed to have arrived while Olivia slept, gentlemen Evan welcomed with an air of surprise.
“How long has it been?” he kept asking. “I did not realize you would be attending. It is wonderful to see you! Goodness, when was the last time?”
It appeared that Evan had not been responsible for the invitation list, and though Olivia would not have dared to point it out, he seemed overwhelmed by the gathering of old friends that surrounded him. Maybe he had grown so used to intimate encounters of two that he had forgotten he had friends.
As for Olivia, her friends had not been permitted to join the hunt, though she felt their encouragement, thrumming across the lawns and gardens to the hunting lodge.
“Have we become French without my realizing?” one of the gentlemen asked, casting an appreciative eye over Olivia, who stood off to the side in a long cloak. “Or has the young lady come to give us a kiss for luck?”
Evan swept a hand through his hair, his smile nervous. “This is Miss Agarn—my betrothed. She will be waiting here at the hunting lodge to celebrate our spoils.”
