Deborah squeaked.
“Impudent chit.” He crumpled the ticket in his hand.
“You’re welcome.” Olivia lifted her chin.
The duke eyed her for several long moments and then abruptly turned away.
As he strode toward the hearth along the opposite wall, Nicholas suddenly laughed.
The sound made them all jerk in surprise.
“Come in, lad.” Nicholas held out his hand in greeting toward a figure in the doorway. “I am glad you made it, after all.”
The man stepped into the room, a tall, lean fellow with a hawk nose and dark, shoulder-length hair. Olivia had no time to notice anything else as Deborah suddenly choked at her side, and then sucked in a huge gasp of air.
“What is it?” Olivia asked, all at once alarmed.
Deborah stared straight ahead, stricken.
“May I introduce Lord Deveraux, Your Grace?” Nicholas nodded at the duke where he stood by the fire.
Lord Deveraux bowed in respect. Olivia frowned. Lord Deveraux? The name sounded quite familiar. Good lord. The man Deborah loved.
“I cannot,” Deborah whispered, rooted to the spot.
“Ah, then you’ve decided,” the duke grunted. He nodded his chin at Deborah.
Lord Deveraux turned. “Please, Deborah. We must speak.”
Deborah stared as if he were a ghost. As he took a step toward her, she bolted from the room with Lord Deveraux on her heels.
“What the devil?” the duke bellowed.
Grumbling, he turned back to the fire, but he’d no more than done so when Lord Randall appeared in the doorway.
“Good evening,” Lord Randall’s voice slithered into the room.
Nicholas shifted, the line of his shoulders at once rigid.
“Randall.” The duke didn’t look at the man.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Lord Randall saod. His eyes drifted over Nicholas and then latched onto Olivia’s. “Miss Mackenzie, ‘tis a pleasure to see you, again.”
Olivia looked up. Why wouldn’t the man simply leave her be? “Lord Randall,” she acknowledged with the barest of civil replies.
Lord Randall glanced back at Nicholas. Neither spoke, but the tension between them pulsed.
The dinner bell chimed.
The duke stirred.
Olivia waited, pensive.
“Randall, a word.” Nicholas pointed to the door.
Lord Randall hesitated, then nodded with obvious reluctance.
As the two men passed into the hall, the duke scowled. “Will no one respect the dinner hour?”