Page 13 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Four

Madame Adelasia’s Fashion Boutique was small yet tidy and always busy, and today was no exception. With its variety of unique goods from bonnets and parasols to incense and rouge, the shop was highly favored amongst the fashionable ladies of the ton.

Standing before the giltwood mirror in an empty corner of the noisy shop, Olivia turned her head this way and that, admiring the bonnet’s little pink bows and delicate lace trim.

It was frilly and feminine, a decadent pink concoction that would pair beautifully with her silk slippers with the pink and white stripes. A covetous sigh escaped her lips. She wanted it.

She’d always loved pink, ever since she was a little girl, though she’d worn very little of it this Season. Paxton preferred her in blue, so she wore blue. Lots and lots of blue.

Not that he’d asked her to, of course. The duke seemed to admire her no matter what she wore, but when a girl was attempting to snare a husband, she must use every weapon in her arsenal.

Men were visual creatures. They liked to look at beauty, liked knowing the effort was made for them.

Olivia knew she was pretty. Or, rather, she knew men found her pretty. She’d heard more than enough odes to her beauty over the years to understand there was something about her that men found pleasing to the eye, something that blinded them to her faults.

Yes, she was blessed with a creamy complexion and large, blue eyes. A pleasing figure, full lips, a dainty nose.

An English rose, or so she’d been called.

But she’d also been gifted crooked front teeth, too-pale eyebrows, and one ear that stuck out a fraction more than the other, which she carefully masked with a strategically-pinned curl. Of course, not one of these features had ever found its way into a sonnet.

Men—most of them, at least—seemed to notice only the picture as a whole, missing the details.

How like her to fall in love with one of the few who missed nothing.

Olivia pulled a face, and the looking glass caught it, reflecting it back to her. She was not in love with Griffin. At least, not anymore. Not ever, really.

Oh, she thought she was once, for a little while, but she’d realized soon enough it was nothing more than a girlish infatuation, and only a fool would love a man who did not feel the same. Olivia was no fool.

Still, there is no denying he is a handsome man, she thought, catching sight of him in the mirror. He stood some distance behind her, staring out at the street with his hands clasped behind his back, his strong jaw and big, powerful body illuminated by the muted sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Her heart stuttered. While she’d vowed never to pine over him again, she hadn’t quite managed to eradicate his effect on her. Not completely. The sight of him still made her pulse skip and when he smiled at her—or at a kitten, apparently—her knees weakened. But only a little.

His new role as Emmy’s chaperone was an unforeseen and wholly unwelcome surprise, but there was no reason for her to lose her head over it. She could behave normally—would behave normally—as if this was nothing but a routine shopping trip with Emmy. She needn’t speak to Griffin. Indeed, she would pretend he wasn’t even there.

And she would definitely pretend she hadn’t embarrassed herself before him last Christmas. The incident—that moment of utter madness—never should have happened, but it had, and there was nothing she could do about it now except pretend she’d forgotten all about it and hope Griffin would continue to do the same.

“That’s a pretty bonnet,” Emmy said, coming up behind Olivia and eyeing her reflection in the glass. “Will you buy it?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Perhaps.” She turned to face Emmy and lowered her voice. “Why didn’t you warn me that your brother would be our escort today?”

Emmy had the grace to look mildly ashamed of herself. “Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t come.”

“Yes, I would.”

Emmy raised a brow.

“Probably.” Maybe.

“Well, I thought it best if you had no choice in the matter,” Emmy said, glancing at the front of the shop where her brother still stood. “You’ll have to get used to being around Griffin again someday. You might as well start now.”

Olivia turned to face the mirror again, biting back a frown. Get used to it? Impossible. But she knew Emmy was right. She would have to try. She would have to accept the fact that he disliked her, and ignore it, and refuse to allow his disregard to injure her any further.

She would be a duchess soon, after all, the wife of a powerful duke. What did she care what a mere marquess thought of her?

From now on, she would simply be herself. Silly, spoiled, flirtatious—unabashedly herself. Perhaps even obnoxiously, if the mood should strike.

Plan set, she shoved Griffin from her mind and studied the bonnet again with a critical eye. “Do you think this bonnet suits me?” she asked Emmy. “You don’t think it’s a touch too…frilly?”