Page 22 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Seven

Giulietta Bianchi’s talents were not exaggerated. As the soprano’s final, glorious note drew to a close, the opera house erupted into thunderous applause and the patrons remained standing long after the singer had left the stage.

Olivia slowly sank to her chair and waved her fan at her wet eyes, struggling to rein in her emotions. Never in her life had she witnessed such a powerful performance, and now that it was over, she was awestruck and contented yet utterly bereft all at the same time.

“Here,” Emmy said, handing her a white handkerchief. “Take this.”

Olivia accepted the folded bit of linen with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Thank my brother,” Emmy said. “Occasionally he does prove useful to have around.”

Olivia laughed and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. It was still warm and smelled of him. She swallowed, fighting the urge to burrow her nose in the soft linen and breathe him in. Lord, but he smelled good.

“Are we ready to leave?” Emmy asked, glancing first at Olivia then at Griffin on her other side.

“I am.” Griffin rose and headed for the box’s entrance. Olivia stood and followed him and Emmy into the corridor as their fellow patrons did the same, spilling out from the neighboring boxes.

“Are you all right?” Emmy asked.

“Yes,” she said, a watery, embarrassed laugh tumbling from her lips. “I don’t know why the performance affected me so. My Italian is terrible. I could only make out a word or two.”

Emmy gave her an understanding smile. “You were not the only one moved to tears tonight. It was a beautiful performance.”

“It was,” Olivia agreed as they moved toward the stairs with the rest of the crowd. “Although, I don’t recall seeing you shed any tears.”

Emmy grinned. “You know what a cold and heartless shrew I am.”

Olivia laughed, and then she fell in line behind Emmy and Griffin as they descended the stairs and made their way through the lobby to the front entrance.

Stepping out into the night, she paused on the top step and breathed deeply, her gaze flicking to the nearly-full moon hanging high in the clear night sky. The temperate weather was welcome tonight, as it would be several minutes at least before their carriage arrived to take them home.

Passing her gaze over the crowd, she searched for Paxton, but there was no sign of him or his mother anywhere. The pair must have left before the performance ended, she mused. Oh, well. She would ask him what he’d thought of the performance later. A love of music was one thing the two of them had always had in common.

She spotted Emmy on the pavement below, already speaking with another of her many friends. Griffin stood a few feet away, gazing out at the street, his hands clasped behind his back. He was the image of easy confidence, his stance relaxed, his masterfully tailored coat and trousers emphasizing his broad shoulders and powerful thighs.

Olivia sighed. Was there a way to snuff out an unwanted attraction? If there was, she wished someone would share it with her. Lord knows, she’d tried, but so far nothing had worked, and even with everything they’d been through, this dratted attraction to him burned as brightly as it ever had.

He did not like her, though he did seem to enjoy teasing her, a fact she did not understand. No matter his reasons, she could not seem to stay away. Apparently she was a glutton for punishment, at least where the Marquess of Keswick was concerned.

His devilish smile from earlier flashed through her mind, his words seared on her brain.

I’m an adventurous man, Olivia, but even I’venever thought to use my toe.

Warmth suffused her cheeks, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was that cursed smile of his. It slayed her every time, even the memory of it, sucking the breath from her lungs and filling her belly with warmth.

No other man’s smile had ever elicited this reaction from her. Only Griffin’s.

Avoid, avoid, avoid.

With a little shake of her head, she gathered her cloak around her and headed down the stairs, her gaze on her slippered feet. She had just stepped onto the pavement when she bumped into someone.

“Oh, I do apologize,” she muttered. “I’m afraid I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Her near-victim, a dark-haired woman in a beautiful crimson gown shook her head and smiled. “No harm done.”

Griffin turned to look over his shoulder and the lady’s smile widened as she spotted him. “Lord Keswick,” she said, her voice soft and melodious. “Good evening. How lovely to see you.”

“Cecilia—Mrs. Morris.” Griffin took two steps forward to meet her then bowed to the woman. “You are looking well.”