10
Richard sat at his desk, quill in hand, trying for the third time to make sense of the estate ledgers spread before him. Figures blurred together, and the column he had been attempting to tally slipped from his concentration once more—thanks to the persistent sound of female laughter drifting down the corridor. It was high-pitched, incessant, and thoroughly maddening.
He gritted his teeth, pressing the nib of his quill harder than necessary against the parchment. What could possibly be so amusing? With a muttered oath, he shoved back his chair, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor as he stood. He stalked into the corridor as the sound of giggling grew louder with every step.
It led him to the parlor. He paused in the doorway.
Olivia and Miss Theodosia were nestled together on the settee like a pair of schoolgirls, a book laying open between them. Olivia had her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle another burst of laughter, while Miss Theodosia wiped at her eyes, clearly overcome with mirth. Neither of them noticed his approach.
He cleared his throat pointedly.
Olivia’s head snapped up, and her eyes widened. “Where did you come from, Brother? You startled me!”
“I live here,” he replied, his tone clipped. “Or had you forgotten?”
“I—of course not.”
“I was attempting to work in peace, but apparently that is too much to ask.” He gestured towards the book in Olivia’s lap. “What on earth could be so amusing that it inspires shrieking laughter?”
Olivia flushed and shut the book quickly, as though the cover itself might incriminate her. “It’s just a novel,” she said with a nervous smile. “A romantic one.”
“A waste of time, in other words,” he insisted. “You would do better to read something that exercises your mind rather than numbs it.”
Miss Theodosia looked up at him, her voice edged with defiance. “I would have to disagree with you, my lord.”
He barely spared her a glance. “Of course you would. But I do not recall asking for your opinion.”
Her chin lifted. “You did not. That does not make it any less valid.”
He turned to her fully now, arms folded across his chest. “You are employed in my household, Miss Theodosia. I suggest you remember that.”
“And what does that mean?” she asked. “That I am not allowed to read? Or have thoughts of my own?”
“It means you will do as you are told.”
She stood then, slowly and deliberately, as she met his gaze head-on. “Or what? You’ll dismiss me?”
“If necessary.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did we not agree that I was free to speak my mind?”
“On matters that concern you, yes.”
“And you don’t believe this concerns me?” she asked, her voice rising ever so slightly.
“No,” he responded. “Because contrary to what you may believe, the world does not revolve around you.”
Color flared in her cheeks. Her entire posture stiffened. “You are a pompous jackanapes.”
He scoffed. “Resorting to name-calling? I expected better of you.”
She stepped closer, undaunted by his height or the sharpness of his glare. “It is not name-calling if it’s the truth.”
His voice dropped dangerously low. “You want the truth, Miss Theodosia? You are merely a country bumpkin who ought to be grateful for the opportunity to reside in a respectable household.”
She stared at him, stricken—but only for a breath. Then her expression hardened. “I quit,” she said softly.
He blinked. “What?”
