Page 13 of A Stranger’s Kiss

Ah, he was angry.

“An Enchanted Summer Evening is hardly nonsense,” she disagreed with a shrug.

“A proper lady does not sponsor questionable events.” The craggy lines of his face deepened into a frown. “Nor does a lady keep close company with opera singers,” he spat the words in distaste.

After that glimpse into Louisa’s drawing room, Olivia could well see his point, but at the moment, she’d rather die than agree. “Then, it is fortunate I am not a proper lady,” she said with a toss of her head.

“You are my granddaughter,” he grated.

“Am I?” She didn’t attempt to hold back the snort this time. “How strange. We only just met. Is there proof?”

“You have an insolent mouth on you,” he snapped.

“Because I dare speak the truth?” she challenged with a frosty smile. “Frankly, you have no power over me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

They locked gazes.

Finally, he sat back in his chair and dropped a hand on each leather-studded arm with a distinct slap. “Give up this foolish venture, and I will bestow upon you a suitable dowry.”

So, he thought to buy her. “You fear for your reputation that much, then?”

“Do not let your pride stand in the way of a good match, girl.”

Girl. To him, she was just a ‘girl,’ but someone who could harm his reputation, damage his ego with gossip. What a fool. She held the power in their relationship—not him. She stood. “I do not need your help.”

The duke stared at her, astonished. “You would refuse a dowry? The chance to find a decent husband?”

A husband would make her dealings with the bank easier—if she were to find one malleable enough, one who would aid her dreams and not destroy them. She’d thought Timothy to be such a one, but apparently, he’d lacked a spine, altogether. Now, she knew in her heart, she’d be better off dealing with the bank alone. She didn’t need to complicate her life with a husband.

“Aye,” she said with a small laugh at her newfound understanding. “I will do much better on my own.”

The duke’s nostrils flared. “You are as headstrong and hot-tempered as your mother.”

Olivia raised her chin. “Why, thank you. That’s the first compliment you have bestowed upon me.”

He rose, tall and stern. He placed his palms flat on the desk and leaned forward, looking very much like a bird of prey. “Do not be a fool,” he hissed. “Your mother lost everything because of pride. Did she not tell you of the Blue Slipper?”

The sapphire encrusted symbol of inheritance, her mother’s by birth. With the Blue Slipper in her mother’s hands, she would have been named the Duchess of Lennox.

With a proud toss of her head, Olivia hissed in return, “My mother had no need for such empty, useless trinkets.”

“You would call the Duchy of Lennox a trinket?” His lip curled in disdain.

“Absolutely. What is all the wealth in the world without love?” Olivia’s lip curled to match. Leaning over the desk herself, she thrust her ink-stained hand beneath his nose. “I do not need your help. Look at my fingers. They are my prize. I know well how to take care of myself.”

He stared at her, his face an unreadable mask. No doubt, fury beyond measure boiled in him. She shrugged. She didn’t care. He and his titles meant nothing to her.

“I bid you good day.” She left him, huffing and puffing, and sailed out the door.

No wonder Deborah was distraught.

Their grandfather was an obstinate, judgmental prig.

* * *

The day was a warm and pleasant one. Not a cloud marred the sky as Olivia crossed the road and took the tree-lined paths of Glasgow Green. Lost in thought, she scarcely heard the birds chirping from the treetops as she walked alongside the River Clyde.

Deborah must have heard of Lord Blair’s reputation. Why hadn’t she exercised caution in his company? Surely, the man could not be that intriguing—not with a reputation of that caliber to precede him.

Truly, she knew only one way to help her cousin.

She would take up the matter directly with Lord Nicholas Blair herself.