Page 26 of Her Heartless Duke

CHAPTERELEVEN

Pride always came before the fall, and for Isaac, it was no different.

That same emotion bloomed in his chest as he watched Olivia from a distance manage a series of complicated steps, her body moving gracefully as her feet managed the intricate footwork. And then, he saw her sway, her face going deathly pale, her arms falling slack at her sides.

He rushed over to her before he could think of anything else, his arms catching her before she could hit the cool marble floor.

“Olivia!”

For a while, she blinked at him dazedly, as if she could not recall who he was, her expression more blank than he had ever seen before.

Footsteps rushed into the empty ballroom at his call and within moments, Horace stood before them with a shocked expression on his kindly face, his earlier excitement gone.

“Summon the physician!” Isaac barked at the butler. “Tell him that if he is not here within five minutes, I shall have him horsewhipped to within an inch of his life!”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

But then, he heard a soft laugh and he looked down to find Olivia smiling weakly in his arms, her lips still pale.

“Really now, Your Grace,” she chided him. “You cannot go about horsewhipping physicians willy-nilly.”

Relief flooded through Isaac at the sound of her voice.

“I could do much more than horsewhip him,” he muttered, frowning as she struggled in his arms. “Please do not move about, Lady Olivia. You are still as white as a sheet of paper.”

“But, Your Grace, this is most improper,” she protested, her gaze swiveling to the entrance of the ballroom where Horace still stood.

But we have been in far more improper positions than this, he wanted to tell her. He doubted, however, that she would want to be reminded of the passionate kiss they shared on Guy Fawkes Day, when he all but took liberties with her that he should have not.

“Horace will not talk. No word will get out of this,” he told her instead, casting a warning glance at the old butler.

Horace had not acquired his position by being less perceptive of his master’s needs and was quick to reinforce Isaac’s promise. “Of course, my Lady! Anderleigh Hall does not tolerate gossip amongst its staff.”

As if to underscore his point, he even put on an expression of being outright miffed at such an insinuation that Isaac could only praise him for his quick thinking.

“We still have to get a physician to see you,” he told Olivia.

She shook her head. “No, no,” she declined. “I merely spun around too fast and got a little dizzy. I hardly believe that necessitates the visit of a physician.”

Isaac frowned at her. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she beamed at him through her white lips. “Now, if you shall excuse me, I should like to get back to practice.”

She tried to get up, pushing at his arms as she did so, but Isaac held her still.

“Practice is over,” he told her in clipped tones. “Perhaps we should take a break and sit down.”

She smiled weakly at him. “I think I should like to have one of those blueberry tarts. They look absolutely delectable.”

Isaac frowned, but he still helped her up. He walked her to the empty seat and helped her sit down before pouring her a cup of tea.

“Thank you very much, Your Grace,” she smiled up at him gratefully.

“Should I help you drink it?” he offered her.

Olivia nearly choked on her cup. “That is hardly necessary.”

“And you hardly look like you can hold your cup, my Lady.”