Page 7 of How to Capture a Duke

Her brother, Ian, had never approved of her visits to the club, but her sister, Ellie, hadn’t minded. As long as Olivia wore a mask, Ellie had welcomed her to walk the casino floor.

“You are indeed different,” he said.

“So are you. You speak well for a stablemaster, although you do have a bit of a stammer when you are nervous. But you haven’t stuttered much now. I can only assume you have grown comfortable enough in my presence to insult me at will.”

He froze, his gaze never leaving her face. “You have come to that conclusion on your own, have you?”

“I have.”

One dark eyebrow shot upward.

Olivia felt compelled to explain. “You are a very large man. And you were quite unfriendly. I nearly stumbled upon my own feet when you yelled at me to not touch Atlas.”

He threw back his head and laughed. His smile transformed his expression, and for the first time, she realized he was quite attractive. Appealing.

Good heavens. What was she thinking? He was a groom. Her mother would not only disapprove, she’d wrench Olivia away and lock her in her bedchamber for the remainder of their stay at Rosehill. But Olivia loved horses, and Caleb guarded the stables that were her only escape during the remaining days of this dreadful house party. Just the thought of returning to the manor made her gut clench.

“If you are the head groom, do you know the whereabouts of the duke?” she asked.

He looked away. “He comes and goes.”

She sat upright. “You mean His Grace has been here and he hasn’t bothered to meet his guests?”

Caleb shrugged a big shoulder. “He’s a busy man.”

“That’s horribly rude of him.” She was aghast. Duke or not, he was a cad.

He leveled a flat stare at her. “Why? You seek to e…e-ntice him with your fair looks? Hopeful to become a duchess?”

“I already told you. The duke can go to the devil.” At his silence, she felt an odd disappointment as if his judgment mattered more than it should. She stood and brushed her skirts. “I have to return. Lord Elton has promised to take me on a country walk.”

Caleb rose. “He has, has he? And what do you think of Lord Elton?”

“He is a terrible bore.”

“Then why agree to walk with him?”

Frustration mounted inside her, whether due to the directness of his question or her impossible situation, she wasn’t certain. “My mother insists. Given the absence of your employer, the duke, she wants me to spend time with Lord Edwards.”

“I thought you said Lord Elton.”

“Yes, but Lord Edwards also has expressed an interest. I can only hope he takes too long with his cravat and our time together will be short.”

He laughed again. “A d…d-andy?”

She bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. “Of the worst sort.”

“Say no.”

It was a simple suggestion but delivered like an order. If only she could. She was twenty years old and, according to her mother, on her way to spinsterhood. Olivia knew her time to find a husband was growing shorter with each passing season. Even worse, her time to experience motherhood. Would she never hold her own child the way her sister held her young son? The threat of spinsterhood was one of the main reasons her mother had insisted she attend the house party. Along with the years, her choices were dwindling like dying leaves in the fall.

A choice.

She wanted to choose. Not her mother. Not anyone else’s mother.

She stood, and they walked to the horses. Without a mounting block, she would need his help to mount her horse. He was by her side before she could ask and reached for the reins of her horse. As his hands encircled her waist, she dared to glimpse up at him and found him boldly watching her.

There it was again, a tingling of awareness. A heightened feeling of some delicious emotion. His dark eyes traveled her face, her lips, then returned to her eyes. His intense watchfulness made her heart thump and would be considered entirely inappropriate.