Page 12 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)
CHAPTER TWELVE
T he afternoon sun spilled through the tall library windows in ribbons of warmth. Dust motes swirled lazily in the beams, drifting through the air like tiny fragments of history. The towering shelves of books, bound in rich leathers and worn cloth, gleamed where the sunlight touched them, their gold lettering catching the light. A faint breeze stirred the heavy brocade drapes, carrying in the lingering scent of the gardens—roses and fresh earth.
It was a beautiful room.
A peaceful one.
A perfect place to think.
Olivia traced her fingertips along the bookshelves, her sore palm tingling faintly at the pressure. It wasn’t enough to be painful, but it was a lingering reminder ofhim—of Lord Cheshire, kneeling in the woods, his hands steady as he pulled the splinter from her skin.
She had barely noticed his touch then.
Now, it was all she could think about.
With her hand still sore from the splinter, she did not want to draw. Lord Cheshire’s words about knowing where she wanted to go, not simply where she was trying to escape from weighed on her mind. He was right, of course, to put it in those terms. But she hadn’t the faintest idea of how to come up with the idea on her own. While others had chosen different activities during their afternoon, she’d come after tea to seek some clarity in the library.
Her fingers stilled on a familiar title— "Voyages and Observations in Italy and Greece."
It felt like a sign.
She pulled the book free, brushing her thumb over the gold-embossed letters.This was what she had wanted for so long, wasn’t it?To be free. To leave. To disappear from all expectations and start anew. In a matter of weeks, she would be sailing across the Channel, far from drawing rooms and chaperones, far from the expectations that had pressed upon her shoulders for so long. Yet, as she traced the intricate filigree on the cover, a strange hesitation curled in her chest.
Was it truly enough to simply go? Or was Lord Cheshire right—should she know where she wanted to go, and why? She opened the volume, flipping the page until she found a drawing of an ornate monument. Then she looked for another. It was what she needed to help her feel inspired.
“Planning your escape already, Lady Olivia?” The deep, unmistakable voice sent a shiver down her spine.
She turned,and for a moment, forgot how to speak.
Lord Cheshire stood near the bookshelves, leaning casually against the wood-paneled frame, arms crossed. He looked all ease and nonchalance. Butsomething was different.
The navy waistcoat he always wore was gone—in its place, a deep shade of plum, rich and striking against his white shirt.His cravat was tied with practiced precision, the color complementing his sharp blue eyes.
And his face—he had shaved.
She had noticed the faintest shadow of scruff earlier in the woods, but now his jaw was smooth, the strong angles of his face more pronounced in the golden afternoon light.
It was distracting.
“You seem to enjoy teasing me, my lord,” she said, arching a brow, though she was certain he could see through her feigned disinterest.
“Perhaps,” he admitted,a slow smile tugging at his lips.“Or perhaps I simply find you endlessly intriguing.”
Her pulse quickened at the way his gaze held hers—steady, warm, unwavering.
She needed to look away.
“You, my lord, have no desire to escape, I presume?” She lifted the book slightly. “I doubt you find the idea of travel so very appealing.”
He stepped forward, plucking a book from the shelf—she noticed he chose it at random, not even glancing at the title before responding.
“On the contrary,” he said.“I once thought I would travel the world. I even learned a bit of Italian in anticipation of it.”
That surprised her. “You speak Italian?”
“A little,” he admitted with an easy shrug. Then, in a smooth, velvety tone, he added,“Il mondo è vasto e pieno di meraviglie.”
The words curled through the air—rich, lyrical, effortless.
She blinked, caught off guard by the sound of it. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you just said,” she murmured, “but it sounded very romantic.”
He chuckled,his voice deep with amusement.“It means, ‘The world is vast and full of wonders.’ Though I suspect you would know that better than most as you have the drive to go and see the world.”
Her grip tightened slightly on the book she held.
“You were right,” she admitted after a moment.“About what you said before. I’ve spent so much time trying to leave England that I never considered where I truly wanted to go next.”
His expression softened.“And now?”
She held up the book to him, so he could see the title. “I want to know,” she said simply. “I want to learn about the places I might visit. I don’t want to arrive in a city and have no understanding of it. If I’m going to travel, truly travel, I should prepare.”
A slow smile crossed his lips—not his usual teasing smirk, but something softer.
“I think that is a rather wise approach,” he said.
She exhaled,relieved that he did not make light of it.
After a pause, his gaze flickered to her hand, still curled around the book.
“How is your hand?”
She had nearly forgotten about it.
She extended it slightly, palm up. “Still sore, but I shall survive.”
“Let me see,” he said, stepping closer.
The momenthis fingers brushed against her skin, she felt it.
Earlier, in the woods, she had been distracted—the ache of the splinter, the coolness of the afternoon air.
But here, in the warm glow of the library,she noticed everything: the heat of his touch; the slow, careful way his thumb traced over her palm; and the soft press of his fingers against hers.
It wasnot rough or hurried, as she had expected from a man accustomed to fencing and sport.
It wassoft.
A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding slipped from her lips.
“It seems you’ll recover,” he murmured,but he did not release her hand right away.
Neither of them spoke.
Then, clearing his throat, he stepped back and plucked another book from the shelf.
“Perhaps we should make a study of your travels, then,” he mused. “Shall we see what fascinating discoveries the world has to offer?”
She exhaled—grateful for the shift in topic, even as her hand still tingled.
He flipped open the book and scanned a passage,his lips quirking.
“Ah. Here we are. A very serious academic observation.” He glanced up.“Did you know that in India, there is an entire festival dedicated to throwing colored powders at one another? Imagine the horror of English society at such a thing.”
She laughed, delighted. “I cannot imagine Lady Lansdowne approving of that.”
“Nor can I. But you must admit—it sounds rather entertaining.”
She shook her head, still grinning.“I do not think my travels will take me quite that far.”
He arched a brow.“Nervous about the journey, then?”
Olivia hesitated. “Not exactly.”
“Seasickness, perhaps?”
She blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
His grin widened. “Well, then. Another thing to research.”
She exhaled, shaking her head. “You make it sound as if I am embarking on an impossible quest.”
He shook his head.“Not impossible. Simply ambitious.” He paused. “Shall I help you in your research?” he asked, gesturing to the two chairs set closest to the open window.
For the next hour they read, taking turns reading aloud the passages that were either informative or ridiculous. Olivia found herself amused at the anecdotes that Lord Cheshire found with ease in his volume. As the time passed, she realized just how comfortable she had become in Lord Cheshire’s presence. She had never meant for that to happen, but it had.
After reading a particular passage about the need for proper communication with different languages during travels, Lord Cheshire looked up. “What shall you do if you do not know how to communicate while you are abroad? Have you formulated a plan for such an occasion?”
She sighed, shaking her head. “It never seemed necessary. I suppose I thought I would simply figure it out along the way.”
He chuckled. “That is a very Lady Olivia approach to things.”
She raised an eyebrow. “A what?”
“A very Lady Olivia approach,” he repeated, his eyes dancing with mischief. “It means to boldly venture forward and trust that things will fall into place. I imagine it has served you well, but one day, it may land you in a rather interesting predicament.”
She huffed a laugh. “You make me sound terribly reckless.”
He tilted his head. “No, not reckless. Just spirited. There is a difference.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
For a long moment, they simply sat there in silence. It was odd how comfortable silence had become between them. Normally, at these house parties, silence meant discomfort, an opportunity for someone else to interject. But here, with him, it felt natural.
Finally, he exhaled softly and murmured, “I hope your travels will be everything you wish them to be.”
Something inside her twisted painfully at those words. She should have been thrilled by the sentiment, should have felt giddy at the thought of leaving. And yet, for the first time, a question whispered through her mind. Would Lord Cheshire miss her?
She almost asked the absurd question aloud, but then stopped herself. Instead, she merely smiled, masking her uncertainty. “I believe they shall be.”
His gaze flickered over her face as if searching for something unspoken, but he didn’t press her. Instead, he turned to pick up a different book, absently flipping through the pages.
“Shall I ask Lady Lansdowne if I may escort you through the ruins of Rome?” he teased, lightening the mood.
Olivia laughed. “I rather think she might faint from the scandal of such a suggestion.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, grinning. “Though I daresay she would recover quickly enough if she thought she had arranged the match herself.”
A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and he looked pleased to have coaxed a genuine laugh from her.
Before she could respond, the butler appeared in the doorway.
“The guests are gathering for dinner, my lord. Lady Lansdowne requests your presence.”
Lord Cheshire sighed dramatically. “Ah, duty calls.” He stood and, before she could rise, offered his hand to help her up.
She hesitated—only a moment—before placing her hand in his. The warmth of his touch lingered a second too long, and when she met his gaze, something unreadable flickered in his expression.
“Come, Lady Olivia,” he said,his voice soft and warm.“Let us not keep our adoring audience waiting.”
She laughed, taking his arm. But as they stepped into the corridor, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.
Confusing thoughts warred for attention in her brain, and for the first time, she wasn’t entirely sure whether leaving England would be as easy as she had once believed.