With that melancholy thought, she forced herself to look at him. Evander sat next to her, the candlelight emphasizing his handsome face. His strong jaw, straight nose, and that unruly, dark hair of his—still curling at the nape of his neck as it always had. She remembered all too well how, as a girl, she hadonce laughed and tangled her fingers in those curls. She quickly averted her gaze, heart tightening.
Dosia’s voice broke through her reverie. “Olivia? Are you well? You have been staring at your venison for quite some time.”
Startled, Olivia blinked. Her tongue, quicker than her judgment, betrayed her. “I was merely thinking of Evander’s hair,” she replied without a thought. “It is… curly.”
Laughter rippled down the table as Evander looked up, amused. “Indeed,” he said. “I inherited the curls from my mother.”
“I like it,” Olivia said, and immediately regretted the words.
“Good.” His blue eyes gleamed with teasing warmth. “Should I return the compliment? Your hair is... rather blonde.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “It is, but it is far from curly.”
“And yet, I am exceedingly fond of it.”
“You only say that because I complimented your hair,” she countered.
He leaned towards her, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “This is a delightful game. What else do you like about me?”
Olivia shook her head. “You are being insufferably cocky tonight.”
He waggled his brows playfully. “You started it, Livy. I am merely seeing it through.”
“Now I regret saying anything,” she stated. “I hereby retract my compliment.”
“You cannot. You’ve said it. It is mine to keep.”
“Then Iunsay it.”
Evander leaned back in triumph. “Too late. My admiration for your hair stands unshaken.”
At the head of the table, Richard cleared his throat. “As diverting as this conversation is, I was inquiring about Westmere’s opinion on the bill I am drafting.”
Evander immediately grew serious. “Yes, of course. I am in full support of your efforts. I intend to encourage my father to vote in favor.”
“I hope so,” Richard said, lifting his glass. “It will take every ounce of influence to see it through Parliament.”
Dosia placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “I think it is admirable that you are seeking to raise the working ages in the workhouses.”
“The Tories do not agree,” Richard replied with a grim smile. “They argue that the foundling homes are already overburdened.”
“You will persuade them,” Dosia said with quiet conviction.
Their gazes locked. “I love you.”
“And I you,” she replied softly.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Can the two of you manage three seconds without professing your love?”
Richard arched a brow. “Why does it trouble you so, Sister?”
“I care for Evander,” she said with forced nonchalance. “But I do not see the need to parade it about the table.”
Evander tilted his head. “I would not object if you declared your affection—once or twice.”
Olivia sighed. “Very well. I care for you.”
“That sounded dreadfully insincere. Do try again,” Evander responded.
