Page 11 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

E dward strode through the winding garden paths of Ivy Manor, the crisp afternoon air laced with the scent of freshly tilled earth and the last remnants of morning dew. After a two-hour hunt with the other gentlemen, he’d found himself restless. He’d made his excuses to the rest of the gentlemen and had ridden his horse back to the stable. He knew that the ladies would be occupied for the morning, and he had set out toward the trails through the back gardens where the garden beds were mixed in with the wild. He had no particular purpose—at least, none he was willing to name—but something caught his attention before he could turn back.

A cluster of delicate white blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their petals trembling as if in quiet conversation with the wind. He recognized them at once.

Lady Olivia had sketched these very flowers in her book. She had spoken of them in a way that made them more than just a botanical subject—she had seen them, understood them.

He had half a mind to pick one, to carry it to her like some gallant fool delivering a token of admiration. Then he remembered her story of how she actually wanted to enjoy flowers—in their natural state, preserved so that others could enjoy them as well. She cherished flowers differently.

Edward hesitated.

Had he ever truly considered the way someone else saw the world before?

He could not name the moment it had happened, but Lady Olivia had a way of tilting his perspective, of making him consider things he had never questioned.

Instead of plucking the flower, he did something else entirely.

He sought her out.

When he found her near a rustic garden bench, her fingers smudged with charcoal, he hesitated just long enough to feel ridiculous before stepping forward.

“Lady Olivia.”

She looked up at him, her light brown eyes bright with curiosity.“Lord Cheshire?”

Edward gestured toward the grove beyond the path.“I found something that might interest you.”

She followed him, and when she saw the flowers, she stilled, her breath hitching ever so slightly. Stepping forward, she reached out, hovering her fingers just above the petals without touching.

“These are the ones,”she murmured, a slow, delighted smile curling at the edges of her lips.“I didn’t know they grew here.”

Edward watched her, noting how the tension in her frame eased, how the guarded set of her shoulders softened.

“I thought you might want to see them,”he said simply.

She turned to him then, something unspoken passing between them.“You remembered.”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.“It was hardly a difficult thing to recall.”

Her laugh was light and genuine, and something in Edward’s chest shifted. He had not realized how much he liked that sound every time he heard it.

Lady Olivia retrieved her sketchbook, settling onto a nearby rock.“If you don’t mind, I should like to sketch them properly.”

He nodded. “I assumed as much.” He lowered himself onto a moss-covered log, stretching his legs before him.

“I thought you were meant to be hunting,”she remarked as she sketched, her pencil moving lightly across the page.

Edward smirked.“I told them I needed to return to the house. None of them seemed particularly concerned about it.”

She arched a brow.“So instead of going back, you wandered the gardens and found me?”

He lifted a hand in mock surrender.“What can I say? I have a talent for appearing exactly where I am least expected.”

She shook her head, laughing softly, and a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird overhead.

Edward watched as she made progress on her sketch, amazed that she could bring such realistic life to the page. He wanted to speak with her, but his gaze kept drifting to her hands, distracted by the careful way she moved her pencil across the page.

Her brow furrowed slightly, the tip of her tongue pressing against the corner of her lip in concentration. Every so often, she tilted her head, as if assessing whether the lines she had drawn were true to what she saw. She hadn’t looked up in quite some time.

It was a rare thing, he realized, to see someone so wholly absorbed in what they were doing. There was no performance to it, no effort to impress. She wasn’t sketching because she had to; she was sketching because she wanted to.

Something about that unsettled him.

He didn’t particularly want to look away. He shifted his weight, angling himself so he could see her better.

Without so much as a glance, Olivia sighed.“Must you stare at me like that?”

Edward blinked, dragging himself from his thoughts.“Like what?”he asked, feigning nonchalance.

She gave him a quick glance before turning back to her paper.“Like I am some peculiar creature in a menagerie.”

“Ah.”He tilted his head as if considering.“I was merely wondering how long you planned to sketch before I was granted permission to speak again.”

Her exasperated breath was all the invitation he needed.

“Were you always this way?”she asked, shaking her head as she resumed her work.

Edward leaned forward slightly so he was in her field of vision, his grin widening.“What way?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Charming, evasive, prone to distracting ladies from their work.” She gestured to her sketchbook on her lap.

He chuckled, tilting his head as if considering.“I prefer to think of it as a gift. A talent, even.”

“A rather practiced one, I’d wager.”

“Perhaps.”He leaned back on his hands, watching her sketch.“Though I had to hone my skills early. One does not survive in a household with two sisters without learning how to maneuver a conversation to his advantage.”

She glanced up at that, curiosity flickering in her expression.“I imagine they gave you quite the trouble.”

“Constantly.”He let out a mock sigh.“They saw me as their personal experiment in refinement. I spent most of my childhood enduring ‘practice waltzes’ in drawing rooms and listening to endless debates over which shade of blue was most becoming.”

Lady Olivia laughed, the sound bright and warm.“And yet, here you are, a perfectly well-mannered gentleman. Their efforts were not in vain.”

“Oh, they would be delighted to hear that.”Edward smirked.“They were convinced I would turn out hopelessly unpolished.”

She tapped the end of her pencil against her chin.“And are you? Hopeless, I mean?”

His gaze flickered to her. Under her scrutiny, his heart pounded harder than it had only a moment ago, though he had exerted no physical energy. It was unnerving.“Not entirely.”

A brief pause settled between them.

Then Lady Olivia tilted her head, studying him.“And yet, you’re still here, unmarried and thoroughly avoiding the matchmaking mamas of the ton .”

Edward let out a short laugh.“Is that what you think? That I’m avoiding them?”

“Aren’t you?”she countered.

He leaned forward slightly, as if letting her in on some great secret.“Avoiding suggests fear. I prefer to think of it as strategy.”

She scoffed.“Oh, of course. And what grand strategy is that?”

“To remain perfectly uncatchable, of course.”

Lady Olivia hummed as if considering.“Uncatchable, but not uninterested. I’ve seen the way you look when the topic of marriage comes up. You are not a man who is opposed to it outright.”

He studied her, a slow smile forming.“And what of you, Lady Olivia? Are you so very opposed?”

She smirked.“Not at all. I am merely selective.”

“Ah.”Edward’s voice dropped into something almost conspiratorial.“So, in truth, you are playing the same game I am.”

She met his gaze with an impish glint in her eyes.“I believe it is like your version of chess, Lord Cheshire. It would seem that neither of us has lost just yet.”

Edward smiled.“An impressive feat, considering how many seem determined to see us redirected.”

Lady Olivia let out a soft laugh.“Yes, Lady Lansdowne would be most displeased to learn we are still firmly in control of our own futures.”

Edward exhaled, shaking his head.“She does seem rather determined to upend them, doesn’t she?”

Lady Olivia returned to her drawing, her pencil moving in smooth, deliberate strokes.“She’s not the only one.”

He watched her for a moment before speaking again, his tone more thoughtful now.“And yet, you speak as if your plans are already set.”

Her pencil stilled for a brief second before she resumed shading.“Perhaps they are.”

Edward studied her, watching the way she furrowed her brow in concentration as she shaded the petals.“Tell me, Lady Olivia, where exactly do you plan to travel once you leave England?”

She glanced up at him, the corners of her lips twitching.“Everywhere.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is my answer,”she said, with a laugh.“I haven’t planned the details yet. I only know that I wish to go.”

Edward tilted his head.“Traveling is an excellent endeavor—provided you are not simply running away.”

Her pencil stilled.“And what, exactly, would I be running from?”

He shrugged, his tone casual despite the weight of his words.“Aren’t you avoiding falling in love and settling down?”

She let out an incredulous laugh.“Avoiding? No, I am simply choosing. You wouldn’t begrudge a lady a bit of adventure before she surrenders to a dull life of domesticity, would you?”

“Dull?”Edward scoffed.“I happen to know several highly entertaining married couples.”

“Do you?”she teased.“Let me guess, they spend their evenings playing whist and debating the merits of crop rotation?”

Edward put a hand to his heart dramatically.“You wound me, Lady Olivia. I do not run away. I strategically withdraw.”

She laughed, shaking her head.“And yet, here you are, avoiding a hunting party and keeping company with me instead.”

“Still, as a friend, I would advise you to pick a destination. It would be an exciting thing to discover where you wish to go, instead of only where you wish to leave.”

She met his gaze, her eyes searching his. She closed her sketchbook on her lap and nodded, leaning back as she put her hands on the log. “That is sound advice, Lord Cheshire. You are a thoughtful friend. I shall consider what you have said.”

Before he could retort, she suddenly winced, pulling her hand back from the log.

Edward straightened.“What is it?”

“A splinter, I think,”she muttered, turning her palm upward.

Edward scooted closer to her, taking her wrist gently and examining her skin. Sure enough, a thin sliver of wood had embedded itself just below her thumb. “This will only take a moment.”

His fingers brushed against hers as he worked, and for a brief second, he became acutely aware of the warmth of her skin, of the soft hitch in her breath.

He met her gaze, momentarily caught by the flecks of gold that were in her light brown eyes. “You are remarkably calm for someone who flinched at an archery bow,”he murmured, trying to add levity into the moment.

“Do not remind me,”she grumbled. “At some point in my life I will become a much better archer than I am now, provided I live through this injury.”

Edward chuckled as he worked the tiny splinter free. A drop of blood squeezed out of the injury, and Edward took out his clean handkerchief and pressed it against the spot before she had time to register it. He smiled.“There. You shall live. I cannot say just how this injury will impact your archery. But I may confidently say that you cannot get worse than you are.”

“Lord Cheshire. I take back what I said about your being a thoughtful friend. You are incorrigible.” She flexed her fingers, then cast him a speculative glance.“It’s a shame this didn’t happen yesterday. It would have been a very good excuse not to play the pianoforte last night.”

Edward narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion.“Ah, so that was your plan all along—fake an injury to escape your performance. Devious, Lady Olivia.”

She pressed her lips together, as if she were suppressing a smile. “I admit nothing.”

Edward smiled.“Good. I do so hope it will not affect your playing, because I should like to hear you play again.”

She met his gaze, her breath hitched. Pink filled her cheeks, filling in the spaces between her faint freckles.

Had he noticed before just how becoming she was with such freckles? He’d made his comment as a jest, but he hadn’t realized that it was true when he’d told the women at the table that he preferred women to have a few freckles.

Lady Olivia looked down, and he realized he’d been caught staring at her face. “You are most kind, Lord Cheshire. I thank you for boosting my confidence yesterday. I dearly love to play, and I had forgotten that fact for a time.”

“It was my pleasure, Lady Olivia,” he said quietly.

She cleared her throat. “My drawing on the other hand looks as if it will be affected today. I should not wish to bleed over the sketches, and drawing with a handkerchief wrapped around my hand feels difficult.

So she had seen the blood. It looked as if she wasn’t the fainting sort. “Allow me,” he said, holding out his hand to take the sketchbook and pencil from her. He tucked it under his arm, and then held out his hand to help her stand.

“Thank you,” she said, smoothing out her skirts. “And thank you for sharing your findings with me. I don’t even know the name of the flower, but it is one of my favorites.”

Edward smiled, genuinely pleased that it had brought her some joy. “I am sorry about your hand.”

“It should be better in no time,” Lady Olivia said.

They walked back toward the house, as they had so many times before, but this—this time—felt different. Edward strived to keep his breathing under control as his thoughts swirled in a quiet turmoil.

He had never cared much for house parties, had never thought twice about who he partnered with for games or dinner.

But this— this —felt different. But it didn’t seem to affect Lady Olivia in the same way, although she had momentarily blushed, she returned to their easy manner between them, talking of easy things, like the weather and the rest of the day’s events.

But he was starting to be affected by her. And he did not know what to do about it.