Page 24 of The Duke of Pain

Looking at himself through Olivia’s eyes, he was a dissipated and pompous man. When with her, Gideon did not want to be that man any longer.

Olivia, with her mesmerizing mixture of damaged vulnerability and steely will, had brought his buried emotions into the light.

Never expected it to happen to him.

Of course, if he bothered to examine his black soul, he would find enough damage of his own. Deep scarring that he believed would never mend.

Gideon glanced toward the entrance and audibly exclaimed.

Olivia stood, resplendent in a gold and brown afternoon gown. Even with its high neck and long sleeves, she looked glorious. The garment, trimmed in gold lace and brown brocade, suited her coloring and golden hair. Across the front of the dress were embroidered gold roses. She held a matching gold parasol and wore a brown and gold bonnet suitable for a sunny spring day.

Olivia looked every inch a peer’s daughter.

Smiling, Gideon stood and strode toward her. Taking her hand, he kissed it, then laid it on his arm and escorted her to the table. Nearly all eyes were on them, and for once, he basked in the attention, for he was proud to be in her company.

Pulling out a chair for Olivia, he then sat opposite. Her cheeks were flushed. From the fresh air or the fact that they were the subject of attention? Or, God forbid, that she was happy to be in his company.

The waiter wasted no time bringing over the tea service and teacups. He then placed a three-tiered silver cake stand in the center of the table. The top layer held different flavors of scones, the second, various sandwiches, and the bottom tier, sweets, and pastries. A good thing he had skipped luncheon.

Olivia leaned forward and whispered, “I have no idea what to do. This is beyond my experience. And we are being watched.”

“Do not be surprised if this makes the society pages. ‘The coldly aloof Duke of Watford takes tea with a beautiful mystery woman.’ And you are beautiful, Liv. Absolutely stunning.”

Her color deepened, then she gave him the sweetest of smiles. God, he would treasure that. It was the first genuine smile Olivia had gifted him with. Sighing, she removed her gloves.

“The lady at the table presides over the teapot,” Gideon suggested. “If more than one lady, the senior one. You shall pour the tea, Liv. For both of us. You can do this.”

He opened the linen napkin and laid it across his hip. Then motioned toward hers. Olivia nodded and did the same.

She sighed softly. “Here I go. Pray my shaking hands do not cause the tea to spill out all over.”

Olivia poured and handed him the cup and saucer. Gideon trailed his finger along the edge of her hand. Even that slight brush of skin had him reeling. God, he wanted to swipe the food and dishes to the floor and make love to her right on the table.

Make love?

When had he ever referred to it as that? Never.

Best to concentrate on the subject at hand.

“Once we add the dressings, such as milk, sugar, or lemon, we can select some of the food. We start with the top tier and work our way down. Never, ever mix them up.” Gideon rolled his eyes.

“Is this something you were taught?”

“Yes. Society and its rules. Comportment. It’s all ridiculous beyond words.”

“But here you are, following those very rules you mock.” Olivia looked into her cup. “And does one add the milk first or not? What does society do?”

“I was told milk first if only to cool the fragile cups for the hot tea to come. I add it after.”

“So do I.” Olivia took the pitcher of milk, added some to hers, then passed the pitcher to him.

Again, he stroked her finger with his own until a soft moan escaped her luscious lips.

“Oh, you are doing that on purpose,” she said breathlessly.

At least she was not admonishing him. Instead, her blue eyes sparkled with heated interest.

Gideon gave her a teasing wink as he sipped his tea. He had requested a blend of black currant and Assam, one of his favorites.