“Bett, I’m fine. Please let it be. Shouldn’t you be spending time with Mr. Hughes?”
“Not now. The gentlemen are going off shooting, and I have no interest in joining them. I hate to see you sad. This was supposed to be fun.”
“There’s no need for you to worry. I’m fine, and the house party is fun.”
“Really? Your face tells a different story.”
“Bett, I can’t talk about this now. Can you leave it be, please?”
“Of course. I apologize if I’ve overstepped. Come. Let’s go see what Lady Fleming has planned for the rest of today.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Olivia said, intwining her arm with Bett’s.
When they got to the parlor, Lady Fleming was explaining that an outing to the local village was planned next. “Everyone who wishes to go should meet out front by the carriages in ten minutes.”
“That sounds like fun. Shall we go?” Bett asked.
Olivia nodded. “Yes. It’ll be a good diversion.”
“A diversion, hmmm? What or who do you need a diversion from?” Bett asked with a wink.
“You’re incorrigible,” Olivia said with a chuckle. Her friend knew just how to cheerher up, even though it was only momentarily. She was still reeling from Lord Robertson’s rapid switch of interest to Miss Bartlett. After she’d insisted to Bett before they arrived that she wasn’t interested in finding anyone new, it was embarrassing to now admit that she was definitely interested in Lord Robertson.
After they went upstairs to collect their gloves and recticules, Olivia and Bett joined the other ladies as they headed outside to the carriages.
None of the gentlemen decided to join them, and Olivia was relieved to hear that. She was also happy when Miss Bartlett and her mother declined the invitation to the village as well. Perhaps Miss Bartlett thought she could spend more time with Lord Robertson if she stayed behind. It certainly was of no concern to Olivia what the young lady decided to do.
A footman helped them into the carriage for the short ride. The local village was quaint, with a general goods store, a bookstore, a modiste’s shop, a blacksmith’s, and various other shops.
Bett and Olivia found some lovely ribbons and new kid gloves at the modiste’s. “These are so soft,” Bett said, holding up a pair of gloves.
“I agree. I’m going to get a few pairs of them myself,” Olivia said.
After leaving the modiste’s shop, they perused the shelves at the bookstore and were quite pleased withthe selection of novels. Olivia picked upMansfield Parkby Jane Austen. “Have you read this one yet?”
Bett nodded. “Yes, it’s very good. Oh, look, they also haveEmma.I’ve been wanting to read that for a while but haven’t gotten around to getting a copy.”
“Looks like both of us will have some entertainment tonight,” Olivia said.
“Perhaps, but then again, there are other entertainments available tonight,” Bett said with a wink.
Olivia felt the blush rise up her neck. She knew Bett liked Mr. Hughes, but she’d had no idea her friend would entertain the thought of going to his bed. Did she want that with Lord Robertson? To be in his arms and finally enjoy relations with a man for the first time in her life? She gave herself a mental shake.
No! That’s not what I want.
Or was it? She didn’t really know anymore and was more confused than ever.
When they returned from the village, she felt drained and opted to retire to her bedchamber and read for a while. She didn’t see Lord Robertson on her way upstairs, and that suited her just fine. It seemed the men were still out shooting.
The time apart helped calm her hurt feelings and confusion about why she felt so unsettled at the thought of him spending time with Miss Bartlett. How could she feel such a strong connection with him afteronly a few days? Had Armstrong left her so starved for pleasant words that any hint of admiration from a man had her head spinning? Or was it because that admiration was coming from one particular man? An impossibly handsome man with honey-blond hair and a devastating smile.
She sat in the chair by the window, trying to enjoy the peaceful view, but her mind wouldn’t quiet, going around and around in circles, thinking about Lord Robertson. She wanted to be with him, but could she trust him? That was unfair. He’d proven to be quite trustworthy so far, and Olivia did crave his attention. Perhaps she’d been hasty in her earlier judgment. Round and round her thoughts swirled, with no apparent answer for her conflicted mind.
An hour later, a knock on her door brought her out of her musing, and Emma walked in. “Good evening, Lady Armstrong. Are you ready to dress for dinner?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Emma chose the green silk dress—one of Olivia’s favorites. She knew it highlighted her eyes and secretly hoped that Lord Robertson would notice her,notthat she wanted him to.
