“And how did you sleep, Miss Theodosia?” his mother asked lightly.
She smiled, a glimmer of warmth softening her features. “Please, you must call me Dosia. It is far less cumbersome.”
“How very gracious,” his mother replied. “Isn’t she gracious, Richard?”
He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly involved in the conversation, but he offered a half-hearted shrug. “Yes, I suppose.”
His mother patted his arm with a knowing look. “That wasn’t so difficult to admit, was it?”
Richard grumbled under his breath. “Why must you ask so many questions before breakfast?”
“I take it you didn’t sleep well,” she said, undeterred.
“I rarely do.”
Her expression softened. “Were you up late again?”
He hesitated before glancing briefly at Miss Theodosia. “I was.”
They reached the dining room, where the table was laid with silver, porcelain, and trays of warm rolls and preserved fruits. He pulled out his mother’s chair and waited for her to settle before taking his place at the head of the table.
To his right, Miss Theodosia sat down and immediately gasped with delight.
“Is this chocolate?” she asked, lifting a delicate porcelain cup to her lips. Her eyes widened in appreciation after a sip. “It’s delicious.”
“You’ve never had chocolate before?” he asked, raising a brow.
She nodded her head. “Only when my father visited Town and returned with it as a special treat. It was rare, but always memorable.”
“Well,” Richard replied, leaning back in his seat, “in this household, it is served every morning.”
She met his gaze over the rim of her cup. “Then I do believe I could grow accustomed to mornings in your household.”
He allowed himself a small smile—until he remembered who he was smiling at and quickly composed his expression. “My sister often requests a breakfast tray be sent to her bedchamber,” he said, tone returning to its usual clipped civility.
As if summoned by his very mention of her, Olivia swept into the dining room, her presence as theatrical as ever. “But not today, Brother,” she announced with a bright smile. “I have decided to grace you all with my company.”
“How wonderful,” Richard muttered under his breath, rising politely from his seat.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Do sit down. No need to rise on my account. I hope Dosia is as delighted as I am to visit the circulating library today. I’ve been looking forward to it all morning.”
“I am rather excited,” Miss Theodosia said with a smile. “Thank you again for allowing me to borrow your gown for the outing.”
Olivia waved the thanks away as she seated herself. “Think nothing of it. Now that I’m married, I am free of those pasty pale gowns meant to signify innocence and modesty. I have resolved to begin wearing crimson gowns.”
Richard arched a brow. “Perhaps you might begin with shades that do not attract quite so much attention.”
“Nonsense,” Olivia replied. “It’s one of the few freedoms that marriage affords me. If I must submit to the rest of it, I shall at least wear whatever color I please.”
Before he could retort, the butler appeared silently in the doorway and approached with the morning newssheets balanced neatly on a silver tray. He placed them beside Richard with a slight bow. “Will there be anything further, my lord?”
“Not at this time, thank you,” Richard replied with a nod of dismissal.
He had just reached for the topmost paper when Olivia snatched it up with a triumphant grin. “You must be faster next time, Brother.”
“Need I remind you that reading the newssheets is not considered particularly ladylike?”
She did not even glance up from the page as she flipped it open. “Ah, but I am married now,” she replied, as though that single fact rendered all previous expectations obsolete.
