Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(54)

“No, I make them myself. By hand,” Mr. Beechcroft explained.

Olivia heard the whoosh of skirts behind her, and then Ida planted herself next to her sister, her intense gaze on the globes.

There were five of them, all in varying sizes and color schemes, all meticulously crafted.

“This is incredible, Mr. Beechcroft,” Ida said. Olivia blinked in surprise; she’d never heard such an approving tone from her sister before. “You’ll have to let me watch you make one.”

“Better than that, my lady,” he replied. “You’ll help me make them. I have not been able to interest Edward in my little hobby,” he said, glancing toward Mr. Wolcott, “and I do so love to talk while I work. The kittens are good listeners but don’t often reply.” And then he laughed at his own joke.

“The kittens! I’d forgotten they’d be here. Where are they? Can we see them?” The twins had had to leave the other two kittens behind at the duke’s London town house since their mother didn’t know about them being there, but certainly would if they were all traveling in a carriage together. Their maids had promised to watch over them, which probably meant they would be getting spoiled by the entire staff.

“Mr. Whiskers is likely sleeping on my father’s chair, while Scamp is terrorizing my hunting dogs.” Edward sounded both indulgent and disgruntled, which made Olivia want to giggle.

“I would like to see your library, sir,” Ida said bluntly. “And if Mr. Whiskers is there, I imagine Pearl and Olivia would like to as well.”

“No tea, then?” Mr. Beechcroft said.

“I need to rest,” the duchess said, standing up from her chair. Her lady’s maid, who’d been discreetly waiting behind her, bustled up to rewrap the duchess’s shawl around her shoulders. “I look forward to seeing what entertainment you have planned for tomorrow, Mr. Beechcroft.” She paused, a tiny frown creasing between her eyebrows. “You haven’t mentioned if the duke has arrived.”

“Not yet, Your Grace,” Mr. Beechcroft said. Olivia felt guilty for being relieved he knew the correct way to address her mother, and then berated herself again for being a snob.

“He might have stayed in the village. The Four-in-Hand Arms is quite a tidy little inn.”

The duchess’s reply was a sniff, indicating much more than mere words could. Namely, that the duke would never stay at an establishment where common people could be found. Olivia wondered just how her mother had talked him into this trip. Or perhaps he, like her, thought they were going to the marquis’s estate?

What if he was there now? She felt her eyes widen at the thought. If it was only Lord Carson here, he couldn’t properly propose, not without her father in attendance.

She hoped her father was just as mistaken as she had been, although she felt for the poor staff at the marquis’s estate, which was not expecting anyone for a visit.

But if it kept Lord Carson from making good on the implicit promise found in his having arranged this trip, she would try not to feel too bad.

The duchess and her maid left the room, the duchess still remarking on how surprisingly nice she found Mr. Beechcroft’s estate.

“Did she think we’d have workers on machines in the ball room? Or perhaps piles of money lying around in the hallway waiting to be counted?” Edward said, low in her ear. She could tell he was joking, only—

“It’s entirely possible,” she replied with a sigh. “Mother is not the most diplomatic of people.”

“Duchesses seldom have to be,” he said. “But you didn’t think that. That’s all that matters.”

No, I didn’t. But then again, I didn’t have time to think about it, since I hadn’t known we were coming here.

Olivia waited as Mr. Beechcroft took Ida’s and Pearl’s arms to lead them to the library. She didn’t miss Mr. Beechcroft’s sly look as she stood beside Edward, and she wished she could tell him he was completely misguided. There was no way she and Edward would ever—he wouldn’t, he had his father to take care of, and not only that, her parents would never accept him as a suitor, and she—

She loved him.

No, wait. She loved him? Oh, no, that was the worst possible thing that could have happened. She felt her knees buckle as her thoughts struck her, and he grabbed her wrist to hold her up before she fell.

“Are you all right?” The concern in his voice—like when he had followed her out of the dining room after that embarrassing moment—made her want to weep. Even though she was not a woman who wept. That he was worried about her when he was the bastard, the one whom Society would never accept, the one who was being asked to marry, preferably a woman who wouldn’t look down on him.

“I am fine, thank you, Mr. Wolcott.” Her throat felt thick with emotion. With love.

Dear lord. What was she going to do?

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for the kittens.” He held her arm as they walked slowly down the hallway. He sounded sincere, which surprised her.

“I got the impression you weren’t all that happy with me giving them to you,” Olivia replied, trying not to just say everything she was feeling—I think I’ve fallen in love with you, in fact I know I have—instead of talking about kittens and tea and perhaps later on the likelihood of rain.

Exciting topics that were—except for the kittens—perfectly acceptable in Society.