“But do you love him?”
The question hit her square in the chest. She faltered, her throat tightening. Of all people to demand such an answer, ithad to be Evander’s father. Not even Evander had asked her so plainly.
Lord Everwyck seemed to take her silence as an answer. “I see,” he murmured.
Her fingers tightened around the delicate porcelain handle. “I—I don’t quite know what I feel for Evander. But I care for him deeply.”
To her surprise, that seemed to mollify him.
“I told him not to marry you,” he shared. “I didn’t think you were suitable to be his viscountess.”
Olivia didn’t flinch. She had known as much. Evander had told her, and she’d long suspected it anyway.
“And yet,” the earl added, with something approaching reluctance, “he chose you anyway. I do hope you don’t intend to break his heart.”
She met his gaze with steady resolve. “Your son has been—and always will be—my dearest friend. I would never hurt him.”
His reply was pointed and clear. “I don’t think my son is seeking friendship with you.”
A flicker of heat rushed to her cheeks, but she kept her voice composed. “And that… is all I can give. For now.”
The last two words lingered in the air between them, not quite a promise, not quite a plea. She meant them. At least, she wanted to mean them.
His mouth tightened. “I would hate for you to prove me right, Olivia.”
The tension in the room was palpable as they stared at one another. Why this sudden interest in her relationship with Evander? Why now, when he’d never cared before?
But before she could reply, the sound of skittering paws broke through the tension. Finnegan barreled into the room, causing Lord Everwyck to jerk upright.
“What in the blazes is that?”
Olivia reached down and scooped the little creature into her arms. “It is my dog,” she replied, stroking Finnegan as he panted happily in her lap.
The earl’s eyes narrowed. “That is not a dog. That is a rat.”
She bit back a smile. “No, it is a Pomeranian puppy. His name is Finnegan.” She lifted him slightly. “Isn’t he adorable?”
Lord Everwyck looked appalled. “Get that horrid little beast away from me before I shoot it.”
“You shall do no such thing,” Olivia said, not bothering to disguise her amusement.
“Does Evander know about that rodent?”
Olivia plucked a small piece of ham from her plate and fed it to Finnegan, who accepted it with glee. “He does, and he said Finnegan was welcome here.”
“He would be mistaken,” Lord Everwyck said. “And do not feed that thing from the table. What are you—a ruffian?”
Before she unleashed the retort forming in her throat, Gillingham entered with his usual composed air. “My lady, a Lady Jane is here to call upon you.”
Olivia rose at once and extended Finnegan to the butler, who accepted him with only the faintest lift of a brow. “Thank you, Gillingham. Inform Lady Jane I shall join her shortly.”
As he departed, she took one last sip of her chocolate, setting the cup back on its saucer with care.
Lord Everwyck was not done with their conversation. “I do not want that dog in our home.”
“It is my home now as well.” She dropped into a graceful curtsy—more mockery than reverence—and continued. “My lord, as always, it has been a pleasure.”
And with her spine straight and chin high, Olivia swept from the room before her infuriating father-in-law could say another word.
