“Of course I disapprove of Marmaduke.” The incorrigible self-appointed matriarch grinned at that as if Venus’s admonishment had been framed as a compliment. “He matches none of the criteria I would like to see in your future husband.”
“Yourcriteria?” Venus folded her arms and that did such magnificent things to her cleavage, Gal almost choked on his spoon. “When surely it is only mine that matter.”
“Dearest—” Olivia reached over and squeezed her arm in pity. “—exactly like Diana was back in her embittered old spinster days, you are too close to the problem, so obviously cannot see the perfect solution to it as clearly as I can.” She wafted her hand in Giles’s direction as if his besotted cousin and his equally besotted wife would never have married without her guiding hand. “While I am sure Lord Dorchester has many admirable qualities as a person—” Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she made that concession, completely contradicting it. “—I fear he would make you a very disappointing husband, as the pair of you lack the frisson.”
“I’ll have you know—” Venus’s beautiful blue eyes shimmered indignantly, then shimmered some more as Olivia interrupted with an imperious raised palm.
“A good marriage has a spark, Vee. A unique and special spark that sometimes blazes into a fire of passion, and sometimes makes you wish your other half burns painfully in the fiery pits of hell. Be honest, dear, does Dorchester really give your heart excited palpitations? Do your eyes wander to his person in lust and longing? For if they do, I have certainly never witnessed it.”
“Some of us prefer to keep such things private.” Venus clutched at her locket like an amulet to ward off the devil. “And can separate what is appropriate in polite company fromwhat is not.” If looks could kill, Olivia would be as dead as a doornail at her adopted daughter’s milk-curdling, change-the-subject-right-this-second glare.
“That says it all!” Olivia threw up her hands as if her argument was proved. “For such things are as unconscious as they are unstoppable. You have eyes, girl, and those eyes must have seen the way Minerva looks at Hugh or Diana looks at Giles, and how even I frequently glance at the vexing Mr. Peabody in between bouts of wanting to strangle him.” She smiled at Jeremiah and he smiled back. “A heart hopelessly in love cannot disguise such things. Nor can a body consumed with lust pretend it isn’t. I want that for you, too, dear. More than anything.”
“More than anything, Iwantto eat my soup in peace.” Poor Venus’s neck had gone all blotchy, but Gal studied his soup in case both he and his wayward looks got dragged into the conversation. Olivia, however, had the bit between her teeth, so she was typically relentless.
“You need a fellow who sets your pulse racing. One with vim and vigor. One who is gloriously vexatious but has a good heart that beats only for you.” Olivia’s eyes lifted with obvious calculation to Gal’s, and the whole table saw it. “A man so obviously besotted that he simply cannot tear his eyes off you. One who might be right under your nose if you deign to look beneath it rather than down it for a change…”
As Venus’s eyes widened in horror at the implication, Gal decided enough was enough.
For both their sakes.
“If that’s aimed at me, Olivia, I can assure you that you are barking up the wrong tree. I don’t have either the time or the inclination for any sort of courtship and—meaning no disrespect to Miss Venus—youreyeis in dire need of some corrective lenses if it thinks that the pair of us are a match made in heaven.” He choked out a chuckle. “What say you, Venus?”
She responded by taking off her spectacles, looking thoroughly bored by the topic, and passing them down the table. “Olivia can borrow mine.”
Chapter Eighteen
I captured an intruder last night and would have beaten him to a bloody pulp if Diana hadn’t forced me to release him. His name was Galahad Sinclair…
—from the diary of Miss Venus Merriwell, aged 18
While the gentlemen left them for a rare private glass of port after dinner, which was code for them all wishing to take a look at Galahad’s wounded rear after he had been bullied into regaling the entire story again over dessert, Vee escaped to Diana’s bedchamber on the excuse that she needed to borrow a shawl.
She wasn’t cold, more self-conscious, and was kicking herself for wearing such a stupid gown. A revealing gown she had selected on purpose because she had assumed Lord Dorchester would be there, and a week ago when she thought she had invited him, she’d wanted to prove to Galahad that she was well and truly over him.
Or perhaps make him jealous.
She wasn’t particularly proud of either motive now; thanks to Olivia, it had all backfired. Every glance, nuance, and comment she’d made all night had been scrutinized after all that matchmaking nonsense, and pretending she wasn’t the least bit tempted by Galahad when he knew she had been pathetically easy to seduce was exhausting. Especially ashis duplicity was still so raw and she still hadn’t forgiven herself—or him—for falling for it.
There was a shawl hanging over the dressing table chair, exactly where her sister had said it was, but, feeling idiotic and exposed, she flung herself on the mattress instead to stare at the ceiling for as long as it took for the gentlemen to return. After Olivia’s unsubtle machinations during the soup course, she wouldn’t put it past her to reignite the topic while all the ladies were alone downstairs, and she couldn’t face that onslaught again. Not with Galahad in the next room.
“Are you all right?” Minerva came through her door without knocking, then seeing her flat on her back on the bed sighed. “She means well, Vee.” Her big sister did not need to clarify who the “she” was.
“By humiliating me?”
“It was meant as teasing—the usual family banter we’ve always tossed relentlessly at one another for time immemorial—but I’ll concede that even for Olivia, tonight she went a bit too far.”
“I’ll say.” If only she could turn back time and erase those painful few minutes, and then turn it back a few weeks more to remove their unfortunate kiss. While she was about it, she would turn the hands all the way back to last season and all the mistakes she’d made then with that other silver-tongued liar Lord Argyll and remove that indelible stain from her copybook, too. All those painful memories only served to remind Vee that she was a pathetic fool.
That she had always been a fool.
A stupid, gullible, and needy fool!
“She not only grievously insulted my absent suitor after purposefully excluding him, but also tried to pair me up with Galahad!” She wanted to weep in mortification, especially because he had looked thoroughly appalled at the unsubtle suggestion even if he had helped her escape the teasing. “Bloody Galahad Sinclair, of all people! When she knows I’ve always loathed him.”
“Diana and I had no idea you were still expecting Dorchester tonight. That is the honest truth. However—and this is also the honesttruth, Vee—neither of us could understand quite why you invited him in the first place when we were relieved the bloom appeared to have finally left that particular rose.”
“By that, I take it you do not like him, either?” As her diplomatic eldest sibling had never vocalized her disapproval before, that stung.
