Page 9 of My Secret Duke
I vo brushed a rose petal from his sleeve. It was late in the afternoon, and now that Annette had arrived with her parents, he had been prevailed upon by his sisters to escort the three ladies around the gardens. Which suited him. Anything to keep him out of the house and away from a possible confrontation with Olivia. There had been a few more arrivals for tonight’s dinner, but Annette had informed him that the majority of the guests would be here tomorrow for the ball. Because the London Season was still in full swing, many of those who might have attended already had engagements, and had sent apologies. However, there were still a significant number of guests who intended to come, as well as the local squirearchy.
Perhaps I can think of an excuse to leave? Urgently.
“Vivienne says that her new grandmother-in-law has high hopes of a match between them. Olivia is a very pretty girl, and although she is spirited, recently she has become much more biddable.”
Ivo only heard the tail end of the conversation, and he told himself he would not respond. He would not. But even as he thought it, he heard himself asking, “Who is this paragon the dowager has in her sights for her granddaughter?” He had meant to sound light and amused, but there must have been something darker in his tone, because the women shared a furtive glance.
“Prince Nikolai of Holtswig.” Annette’s blue eyes peered directly into his. “The prince has been persuaded to attend the dinner and the ball. The dowager knows his grandfather. She never stops scheming!”
“A prince ?” Was that the husband Olivia wanted? And why should it concern him anyway? He ignored the odd sensation in his chest—he had probably eaten something at breakfast that disagreed with him. “I imagine that would solve all of the Ashtons’ problems in one fell swoop,” he said absently, as if he had far more important things to think of.
“It would certainly be a triumph,” Adelina agreed.
Conversation dwindled. They had reached the edge of the gravel drive, where it swept up to the house, when they saw the carriage. It was being drawn by four magnificent grays, but that wasn’t what caused the three women to ooh and aah. There was a slim gentleman riding a chestnut stallion beside the carriage. He looked to be about twenty, and his back was as straight as a ramrod, while his glossy dark hair gleamed in the waning sunlight.
“Oh, do you think that’s the prince?” Lexy whispered excitedly.
As the gentleman rode past, he must have been able to see them, but did not even turn his head or acknowledge them in any way. It was as if they were beneath his notice. “He’s arrogant enough to be one,” Ivo said with a frown.
“You seem to have taken an instant dislike to him already.” Annette leaned closer. “Why is that, I wonder?”
Ivo did not meet her eyes. He could hear from her tone of voice that she was amused by him, and if they had been alone, he would have told her that any feelings he may have had for Olivia, and had foolishly expressed aloud, were in the past. As the small group turned back through the garden, the ladies full of speculation, Ivo decided it would be safer to say nothing. If Olivia thought a prince would make her happy, then that was her business and absolutely nothing to do with him. Although if she were to ask Ivo… But no, she would never ask. The days when she sought his opinion on anything were gone.
“I may have to leave tomorrow,” he said as they reached the house.
The three of them turned to him, eyes wide. “Oh no, Ivo!” Lexy protested. “We need you at the ball! What if there aren’t enough gentlemen to dance with? You cannot go tomorrow.”
“Besides, Mama will not let you!” Adelina added this last.
“Nonsense, she knows I am very busy. I have, eh, business to attend to.” His protest sounded weak, and he wasn’t surprised when they refused to accept his excuses.
Annette took his arm in hers and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.
Ivo’s sisters had moved ahead, keen to dress for dinner, but he kept his voice low. “It isn’t because of… Well, it’s nothing to do with Lady Olivia. That is nothing; it never was. It is just that I am particularly busy at the moment.”
“Surely not too busy to spend another night at Grantham and dance with your sisters? They will be so disappointed, Ivo.”
They would, and they would punish him for it. Ivo heaved a victimized sigh that made Annette’s lips twitch. “Very well,” he said. “To please you, I will stay.”
“Thank you,” she said gravely.
“I will dance with you too, as a proxy for my cousin Harold,” he added with a smirk.
Annette blushed and did not answer.
Everyone gathered in the drawing room before dinner. Most of the guests were known to Ivo, and in fact, it was a relatively small group consisting of the Viscount and Viscountess Monteith and their daughter, Lady Annette; Sir William Tremeer, who was Vivienne’s brother and who was employed at Cadieux’s Gambling Club; the Dowager Duchess of Grantham; and Gabriel, the duke; his wife, Vivienne, the duchess; as well as the two elder granddaughters, Lady Olivia and Lady Justina. Ivo, his mother, Elaine, and sisters Lexy and Adelina completed the guest list. Well, apart from the prince.
Although it was Gabriel and Vivienne’s recent marriage they were meant to be celebrating, to Ivo, it felt as if Prince Nikolai was the true guest of honor. The prince was the last to arrive, and he strode into the room with a minion scuttling behind him, greeting the dowager with a familiar kiss on her cheek.
“My dear boy,” she responded, and promptly began to introduce him to the others, paying particular attention to Olivia. The prince took Olivia’s hand in his, and she curtsied low before him, nothing like the slight bob she had greeted Ivo with. Nikolai was a handsome young man, especially when he smiled, and he was smiling now. There was also a gleam in his dark eyes that Ivo recognized only too well.
Attraction. Desire.
Ivo glared at the two of them. For God’s sake, the man was looking at Olivia as if she was a particularly delectable dessert!
The prince murmured something flattering to Olivia as she rose gracefully from her curtsy. She was smiling as she met his gaze, a pink blush across her cheeks. Ivo felt that odd tightening in his chest again. Of course, he was annoyed that Olivia had turned her back on all he had to offer, and now here she was, fluttering her eyelashes at a man with far less to recommend him. Well, Ivo supposed he was a prince, probably wealthy, with a castle. Thinking about it that way, Ivo couldn’t really blame her, and yet he did. Wealth and castles weren’t everything. Ivo would have made her happy. Could the same be said for the prince?
He turned away in time to notice Charles Wickley had entered the room. He caught Ivo’s gaze and gave a polite nod, before Gabriel moved to take his friend’s hand warmly in both of his.
“Thank God,” Ivo heard the duke say. “I’m so glad you are here.”
Charles chuckled. “That bad, is it?”
“Is Freddie coming?”
“On duty, I’m afraid,” Charles replied. Ivo knew that Freddie was the third of the trio of men who had been friends since they were placed in St. Ninian’s Foundling Home for Boys.
Whatever else was said was lost in the hubbub as the butler announced that dinner was about to be served.
Ivo escorted his mother into the dining room, where a polished silver candelabra stood guard over sparkling crockery and glassware. It looked as if a year’s supply of candles had been lit at once. Olivia’s grandmother was certainly going all out to impress, and even Ivo could admit it was effective. He noticed Viscountess Monteith exchange a glance with his mother, eyebrows raised. Neither of them were admirers of the Dowager Duchess of Grantham, but that had not stopped them from accepting her invitation. They were probably hoping for a good supply of gossip to take home with them.
Annette took her place beside him, and leaned in to whisper, “I am so glad you are here, Ivo.”
“I tried not to be,” he said honestly, “but I was overruled. There are more exciting things I could be doing.”
“I don’t believe there is anything more exciting than this. I keep waiting for my mother to say something offensive to the Dowager Duchess of Grantham. She still believes you would have married me if it wasn’t for the billiard table scandal.”
Ivo raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Is that what they’re calling it? I would have thought there were more interesting things to talk about by now.”
“I shouldn’t have spoken of it.” Annette searched his face worriedly, and he wondered what she saw.
“No, speak away.” He leaned closer. “Do you think they might come to blows by pudding?”
She covered her giggle with her hand.
He grinned back, and then his gaze slid past her, and he realized Olivia was watching them with a little frown between her brows. His expression cooled, and he gave her a polite nod of acknowledgment. Her earrings caught the light as she turned away, and then she stiffened, her hand clenching into a fist on the table top. What on earth…? He followed her gaze to see that someone else had entered the dining room. The others had fallen silent, everyone observing the woman in black widow’s weeds as she moved gracefully toward an empty chair.
The dowager’s voice was carefully expressionless. “May I introduce Lady Felicia, my late son’s… wife.” The hesitation was telling.
Felicia shot the dowager a poisonous look, and reached up to fiddle with the black mourning pendant she wore around her neck. Her mouth curved in a cold, supercilious smile as she surveyed the assembled guests. “Welcome to Grantham,” she said, as if she was the hostess rather than her mother-in-law.
Ivo exchanged a glance with Annette, who widened her eyes comically. Gabriel and Vivienne looked as if they wished they were anywhere else. Justina, who was seated beside Gabriel, reached over to cover his hand with hers, and he gave her a tense smile. It appeared that the gambling club owner had well and truly redeemed himself in the eyes of his new family. As for Felicia, the outcast wife… Ivo suspected she was enjoying making things as uncomfortable as possible.
“Ah, mock turtle soup! My favorite!” It was the prince who spoke, his usually haughty expression brightening as he recognized what was in the bowl before him. Either he was completely oblivious to the undertone around the table, or he just didn’t care.
The dowager smiled fondly. “I hope you enjoy your stay at Grantham, Niki.”
The prince’s dark gaze slid toward Olivia, who sat opposite him. “I am certain I will.”
Olivia blushed again. Or was she simpering?
Ivo barely managed to restrain his snort of disgust, but some part of it must have slipped out, because Olivia looked up abruptly. Whatever she saw in his face caused her eyes to narrow to blue slits. She was furious with him—there had never been anything lukewarm about Olivia.
Ivo admitted he was behaving badly, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry. Was he supposed to enjoy seeing her make eyes at another man? If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have come to Grantham at all, but he’d thought he would be able to maintain an indifferent veneer. This was torture.
She glared at him a moment longer, as if daring him to say what he was thinking, so he deliberately gave her a big smile. Hectic color flared into her cheeks, and Ivo looked away and unhurriedly began to eat his meal.