Page 8 of My Secret Duke

T here were more guests at Grantham than there had been for as long as Olivia could remember. She found herself hurrying hither and thither, carrying out her grandmother’s instructions, but she was glad to keep busy. At least then she wasn’t thinking about Ivo staring up at the glass dome in the foyer as if he was spellbound. As always, he’d been perfectly dressed in his beige pantaloons and dark green tailed jacket, his cravat framing his square jaw and cleanly shaven cheeks. His fair hair had caught the ruby light from the colors in the dome, and it had been cut since she saw him last. The wayward curls that had once caused her gaze to linger and her fingers to long to touch were gone, and he now wore a severe Brutus. It didn’t matter. His very presence still made her heart flutter as if there were butterflies taking flight in her chest.

She had expected the visit to be a trying one and had been determined to be as focused as the dowager on making the dinner and the ball, and whatever came after, a resounding success. But she wished he wasn’t here. Her grandmother had explained that the Fitzsimmonses would not have come without him, which would have made the Monteiths waver. She trusted Olivia to be politely indifferent to him, inspired by the hope of taking the next step in resuming her London Season.

At the same time, seeing Ivo again… It meddled with her, reminding her of the times they had spent together and the way he had seemed to captivate her so effortlessly, and that concerned her. What if she fell back into infatuation with him? Despite their painful conversation after he had proposed, she still dreamed about the Elphinstones’ billiard room. Except that in her dreams, he won the wager and kissed her, his warm lips pressing to hers, leaving her reeling and wanting more. He was like a craving she dared not satisfy, because one taste would never be enough. When they were close, there was a frisson, a vibration in the air around them, a sense that it was only a matter of time before something happened. And try as she might, she could not seem to make it stop.

Olivia was carrying a message from her grandmother to the cook, who was busily preparing dishes for tonight’s dinner. She had been a recommendation by Gabriel’s chef in London, and Olivia couldn’t help but wonder how much her grandmother had paid, or cajoled, to get her to come to Grantham. Whatever it was had been worth it, because the smells drifting from the ovens were mouthwateringly delicious. This time, the dowager wanted mock turtle soup added to the menu, and once the message was delivered, Olivia hurried off again.

Edwina had already been scolded for lingering in the vicinity of the kitchen and getting in the way, so as Olivia started up the servants’ stairs, she was not surprised to hear her sisters’ shrieks of outrage. And there ahead of her was Edwina, in a tussle with Georgia over a cupcake with pink icing. Without a word, she waded in and snatched the prized treat from the girls’ greedy hands.

“It’s mine!” Edwina cried, her face flushed with fury and her eyes bright.

Georgia smirked. “It was never yours, because you stole it. You’re a thief.”

“I was hungry!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Olivia had had enough. “Don’t you know better than to fight over food like wild animals? What will the guests think? What will Grandmama say?”

Edwina looked sullen. “I don’t care,” she muttered. “I don’t want all these people here anyway. I liked it better when it was just us and we could do what we liked.”

Olivia was surprised. Her youngest sister had a different recollection of their past than she did. “Just because we did as we liked doesn’t mean it was good for us. I remember you crying yourself to sleep because you were hungry and Mother had sent the servants away again. Your hair was so tangled, Justina had to use scissors to take out the knots, and your clothes were torn and dirty, and when the vicar called, he thought you were a foundling someone had left on our doorstep.” She took a breath. “We could not go on like that. Gabriel saved us, and now our lives have changed. We must try our very best to change too.”

“You’re only saying that because Prince Nikolai is coming to dinner,” Georgia retorted, eyes bright with malice.

Olivia went still. “ Who is coming to dinner?”

“It’s a secret.” Now Georgia had caught her attention, she made a motion of buttoning her lips.

Olivia was tempted to give the girl a good shake before she noticed Edwina was looking particularly guilty. “Tell me at once,” she said sternly. Then, when Edwina shook her head, “Tell me, and I will give you the cupcake.”

Georgia began to protest, but Olivia held up a hand for silence. “Edwina, I’m waiting.” She turned the cupcake in her fingertips, admiring its thick icing and tempting cakey smell.

Edwina wriggled, but she could not resist. She never could when it came to food. “Georgia and I heard Grandmama talking to Humber,” she burst out. “Prince Nikolai of Holtswig is coming to dinner, and Grandmama is hoping he will fall in love with you and marry you.”

Olivia stared. “You’re making it up. How does she know this Prince Nikolai of Holtswig?”

“Because she is acquainted with his grandfather, and when she wrote to him, she found out that the prince was in England for… something or other, so she invited him to Grantham.”

Olivia handed her the cupcake without a word. Edwina let out a crow of triumph and thumped up the stairs, while Georgia followed, complaining bitterly.

Prince Nikolai of Holtswig? It made sense. The preparations, the attention to detail, the importance her grandmother was placing upon everything being perfect for their guests. Obviously, she hadn’t given up on restoring the Ashtons to their former glory and finding Olivia a husband worthy of an Ashton, but a prince ? Olivia and a prince? Was such a thing even possible? It was certainly a big improvement on her own plan to beguile a slightly gray, wealthy gentleman into proposing to her.

She needed to share this news with someone, so Olivia hurried off to find Justina. She found her sister arranging flowers in numerous vases, while one of the young servants was threading ivy through the bannisters on the stairs. Justina took one look at Olivia and beckoned her into a storage cupboard.

“What is it?” she asked as soon as the door was shut. They shuffled closer in the gloom and the strong scent of moth-repelling herbs. “Is it Ivo?”

“What do you mean, is it Ivo? Of course it isn’t Ivo.” Olivia extinguished her flare of anger and took a steadying breath. “Edwina has just told me that Grandmama invited a prince to Grantham to marry me.”

“What? Now?”

Olivia snorted a laugh. “No, not now. She is hoping he will marry me. He’s the grandson of a friend, and when she discovered the prince was visiting England, she sent him an invitation. And he accepted.”

Justina considered this information and cut to what she deemed important. “Do you want to marry a prince, Olivia?”

Olivia put her hands over her face. “Would a prince want to marry me ?”

Justina took her sister’s hands and tugged them away. She was taller than Olivia, a slender girl with a gentle and serious nature. “I’m sure you could make him want to marry you. You are beautiful and clever, and gentlemen like you. Look at Ivo.”

Olivia groaned. “Please, let us not talk of Ivo.”

“Then let us talk about this prince. Olivia, it would be a triumph if you married someone like that. Just think. No one would ever dare to slander you again. Not to your face anyway. No more of those awful pamphlets.”

That was true. Olivia needed a respectable husband, wealthy, of course, but also with a character beyond reproach. She would be safe then from the sort of hurtful gossip currently circulating about her. And she could help her sisters too by finding them equally wealthy and respectable gentlemen. A prince each, wouldn’t that be wonderful?

“Of course you may loathe him on sight,” Justina said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you should marry him if he does revolting things like chew with his mouth open, or if he never bathes, or if he wears a false hair piece.”

“I’m sure his title will sweeten any faults in his character.”

“Well then, it is settled.” Justina paused as she opened the door. “You will marry this prince, and I will marry…” She bit her lip. “Gabriel said he invited Charles Wickley to dinner. Do you think he will come?”

Olivia had noticed Justina’s partiality for Wickley but had kept her feelings about it to herself. Until now. “Justina, you know he can never be suitable as a husband for you. Grandmama would forbid it.”

Justina’s eyes flashed in a rare show of temper. “I don’t care about that. I’m not saying I want to marry him, but I…” She glanced down and her voice dropped. “I like him.”

Olivia patted her shoulder sympathetically, ignoring how her sister flinched away. “I know you do, but it wouldn’t work. When I marry the prince, I will find you someone else. Someone better.”

Justina’s laugh had an unfamiliar, bitter ring to it. “Of course you will.”

She opened the door and peered out, and when she saw it was safe, she left Olivia alone in the cupboard.

Olivia told herself that her sister didn’t understand. Perhaps, like Edwina, she had forgotten what it had been like at Grantham before Gabriel came along. It was Olivia who had borne the brunt of worrying about her sisters during those times, with the responsibility weighing heavy upon her shoulders. But Justina was a sensible and obedient girl, and she would accept that to marry well was for her own good and the good of her family. She would accept that Charles Wickley was not the man for her.