The moment the door clicked shut, Evander felt Olivia’s gaze land squarely on him. When he turned, she had already placed one hand on her hip, and her expression was all demand.
“Would you care to explain what that was about?”
He did notwant to explain. Not when they’d been teetering on the edge of something unspoken earlier. He would have much rather returned to that—her unfinished sentence, her blush, the way she’d looked at him like she might let something slip.
But Olivia, he knew, would not let this go.
With a sigh, he ran a hand down his waistcoat. “Harwood wants me to sell the indigo plantation to him.”
“Would that be a terrible thing?”
“As you know, I’m not opposed to selling the plantation. I’ve considered it. But something about the deal feels… off. Too tidy. As if it’s already been decided without me.”
She tilted her head. “Do you think Joseph would cheat you?”
Thatwas the heart of it. It was the question that had been gnawing at him since Harwood first brought up the deal. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Olivia stepped closer. “I’ve known Joseph for a long time,” she said. “He’s always been kind to me.”
He grinned. “People tend to be kind to beautiful people.”
“That wasn’t why.”
Evander lifted a hand and set it gently on her shoulder. “I’d rather not talk about Harwood anymore. I’d prefer if we could return to our previous conversation. The one we started over breakfast?”
At his words, the color bloomed in her cheeks again, and her gaze dropped to his chest as though unable to meet his eyes.
“I would prefer not to,” she murmured.
Evander’s hand shifted. He brought his fingers under her chin, tilting her face upward until her eyes met his.
“What has you so flustered, my dear?”
The endearment caught her by surprise. He saw it in the slight widening of her eyes, the way she hesitated before answering.
“I’m not flustered,” she attempted, but the softness of her voice betrayed her.
“You are,” he responded, his thumb brushing along her jaw. “And it is rather adorable.”
Her blush deepened to something almost crimson.
“I feel…” she began, and then faltered.
His pulse ticked up. “You feel?” he prompted, careful not to push too hard.
Her lips parted, but before she could form the words, a sharp knock echoed from the main door. Both of them turned at once.
Gillingham appeared, striding across the entry hall. He pulled open the door, and there stood Warwicke, broad-shouldered and grim.
His eyes locked on Evander. “We need to talk,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Evander felt Olivia shift beside him. She stepped back and said, “I’ll leave you both to it.”
He watched her retreat down the hall, and the urge to follow her nearly overwhelmed him. He didn’t want to speak to Warwicke. He wanted Olivia to finish that sentence. He wanted to know what she had felt.
Warwicke stepped forward, drawing Evander’s attention back to the present. “We can talk in your study.”
Evander’s irritation returned with a low grumble. “This had better be important.”
