Page 59 of A Stranger’s Kiss

“Oh, would you take me in?” Deborah squeezed Olivia’s hand so tightly she winced in pain.

“There is another solution, is there not?” Nicholas inserted mildly. “Surely, you could speak with Lord Deveraux?”

Deborah’s head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. “How do you know of him?”

“Does it matter?”

A series of emotions crossed her face, and then she turned her head to one side. “That ship has sailed for me, my lord.”

“I happen to know he still cares for you,” Nicholas disagreed in the gentlest of tones.

Wonder lit Deborah’s face, but then her lips tugged down once again. She smoothed her hands over her rounding belly and whispered harshly, “Even if I cared, what man would accept a stable hand’s child?”

“Perhaps, a man truly in love.”

That made her humph, bitterly. “Nae, Lord Deveraux does not love me that much.”

“I do believe, the question is do you still love him?” Nicholas asked, still insistent.

Fresh tears fell down her cheeks. She didn’t need to speak the words.

Olivia frowned at Nicholas. Why torture the woman so? Clearly, Deborah still loved the man. “Enough,” she hissed.

Nicholas eyed her, unperturbed, then turned back to Deborah. “Return home and write your response. I know a man who can catch this blackmailer in the act. Trust me, there is little to fear.”

Deborah drew a wavering breath.

“As for your other matter.” Nicholas dropped his eyes to her belly and smiled. “A week is all I ask. A week, and I do believe I can offer you a solution to your liking.”

“A week?” Deborah whispered.

Olivia blinked, surprised.

With a broad smile, Nicholas held out his arm. “Shall I escort you to your carriage?”

Deborah darted a look at Olivia.

“Do go, Deborah.” Olivia nodded.

“You are such a gentleman, Lord Blair,” Deborah murmured as they stepped out of the kitchen.

As they vanished into the front of the shop, Florinda rose from her chair.

Doubtless, she’d heard. The shop was small, and they hadn’t taken pains to speak softly, despite the music.

“Do pardon us—” Olivia began.

The opera singer smiled and put a finger to her lips. “Hush. It is an age-old story, is it not? I am the soul of discretion, my dear.”

“Thank you.” Olivia experienced another pang of jealousy. So, the woman was not only beautiful, but kind and honorable. Why did that bother her so?

“Miss Mackenzie,” Florinda continued, her smile turning a shade rueful. “I know now is most likely not the best of times, but I am already late for a prior engagement. However, before I go, I have made up my mind.”

“Pardon?” Olivia blinked.

“I beg you, draw up your contract and send it to my hotel. Allow me to take the music with me? I must practice, but there is enough time. We have two weeks, do we not? The musicians? Surely, you have hired them?”

The famed Lark of Paris…to sing her father’s songs? Dare she hope?