Page 4 of How to Capture a Duke

Olivia turned to Lord Elton. A man with a slight build, he had thinning brown hair, brown eyes, and a nose that resembled a wedge of cheese. “Tell me again about your own estate, my lord.”

“It’s in Hertfordshire. As for the earldom, I take my duties seriously. My allowance is eight thousand pounds annum. I have six younger sisters. Before his death, my father instructed me to care for each of them until they are married. I seek a respectable wife who shall take my sisters under her wing and find them all proper husbands.”

Six sisters! Good grief. If he was looking for someone to model prim and proper behavior, then his interest in her had been sadly misplaced. Olivia had gotten into plenty of scrapes as a young girl, and she imagined that at least one of Lord Elton’s sisters would have a mischievous streak.

Olivia would like that one best.

Olivia feigned interest as Lord Elton droned on about the traits he felt most desirable in a wife. Duty. Respectability. Loyalty. Poise. Restraint.

She bit her lip at the last one.

A liveried footman ladled turtle soup into her bowl. Olivia picked up her spoon and sipped the soup. It was delicious. All the food at Rosehill was scrumptious, and the duke’s grandmother had boasted that a French chef had traveled from Paris to work in the duke’s kitchens. England may have had its fair share of wars with France, but a French chef in an English kitchen was nonetheless prized.

Olivia caught Lord Edwards stealing a glimpse of his reflection in his spoon. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

The dandy was considerably more attractive than Lord Elton, and he had light brown hair, blue eyes, and classically handsome features, but she found his self-absorption with his own appearance and dress annoying.

Even more damning, while he was blessed in looks, he sorely lacked intelligence.

Tonight, his cravat was intricately tied and the pointed tips of his shirt front stiffly starched. She wondered how he didn’t cut his chin on the sharp points.

Olivia looked away, catching Lady Samantha’s narrowed gaze across the table, the woman’s diamond pendant necklace dazzling beneath the candles of the chandelier.

She was a common-looking lady with mousy brown hair, a pointed nose, and a thin-lipped sneer that seemed to perpetually mar her features. Especially when she glared at Olivia like she was now.

Maybe if Olivia said a kind word, the harpy would not be so mean.

“Lady Samantha, what a lovely necklace,” she offered.

Samantha touched the stone with a dainty finger and lifted it an inch. Both Lord Elton’s and Lord Edwards’s gazes went to her bosom.

“The diamond was a birthday gift from my father,” Samantha said, her lips curving in an insincere smile.

So much for being nice. Lady Samantha was an only child, and her jewels and clothing pronounced her father’s wealth. So did her dowry.

After several more courses of fowl, fish, and vegetables, Olivia thought her head would burst from enduring Lord Elton’s dull conversation. Still, she was careful to maintain her smile and nod every few sentences as if she were enrapt, conscious of her mother’s eyes across the table.

At last dinner ended, and Olivia pushed back her chair and stood. She wanted to escape to her bedchamber to read a book before retiring for the evening. But manners prevailed. The men took themselves to the library to enjoy glasses of port and smoke cigars while the ladies sat in the drawing room.

Lady Samantha occupied the settee beside Olivia. Leaning forward, she whispered, “I know what you are doing.”

“Pardon?”

“You are flirting with Lord Elton so that I may not.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “You cannot be serious. You may have him.”

Samantha stiffened. “Do not be coy. You should know that I never lose.”

Unable to help herself, Olivia laughed in the woman’s face. She found her more humorous than threatening.

But Lady Samantha narrowed her eyes and glowered at her. “You shall regret laughing at me!”

Olivia glared. “I don’t think so.”

There was a long, brittle silence between them while the other women chatted around them. Olivia wasn’t one to be easily cowed, but a cold knot formed in her stomach at the flash of hatred in Samantha’s eyes.

…