Page 40 of This Marquess of Mine

She lifted her head and breathed out a weary sigh. “In part, yes,” she admitted. “But I messed it all up. I lost my duke. And now I don’t know what to do.”

Griffin studied her profile, thinking of all he’d learned, of his erroneous impression of the woman sitting beside him. Everywhere she went, men admired and adored her, and yet the only man she wanted to impress was her father. A man who refused to give her what she yearned for.

How wrong he’d been about her.

“You asked me earlier tonight why I turned the duke down last Season,” Olivia said, the words quiet, almost tentative.

Her gaze met his, her blue eyes nearly black in the candlelight. Griffin’s heart gave a disquieting thump.

“It was because of you,” she said. “I wanted to marry you.”

Devil’s brew.

Olivia gazed down at the near-empty glass of whisky in her hands and frowned. Whisky. The name was far too tame for a spirit that could so easily loosen a lady’s tongue.

The room was quiet, with only the ticking clock on the mantel to stand in the way of total silence. Griffin had gone mute, his mouth grim, brow puckered, apparently displeased by her confession, which she never would have made without the whisky’s help.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. There was something freeing in telling the truth, even if this particular truth was more than a little embarrassing.

“You needn’t look so worried,” she said, stretching her legs out until her feet touched the rug. “I exorcized my infatuation for you months ago. Right after Christmas, to be exact. And I have no intention of renewing my regard.”

She set her glass on the small table beside her and drew in a deep breath. “Perhaps I should concede defeat now and let my father choose a husband for me. I doubt he could do worse than I’ve done so far. I seem to have a weakness for men who don’t want me.”

Sinking a little lower into the sofa, she let her eyes fall closed, regret and melancholy washing over her in waves. She was feeling sorry for herself, and she hated the weakness. She tried so hard to be cheerful and positive, but she had to admit, it was exhausting sometimes.

A tear slid down her cheek, surprising her, and she brushed it away with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It seems the whisky has made me maudlin.”

Griffin’s hand found hers, and Olivia stilled at the unexpected press of his palm, his long fingers lacing with hers, solid and warm. Bewildered, she looked at him, and found him watching her with serious eyes.

“You’re enough, Olivia,” he said, his voice husky. “You’re more than enough.”

The sincerity in his gaze, the gentle stroke of his thumb across her knuckles, held her mesmerized and she swallowed, her heart beating a frantic tattoo.

His throat was bare, his shirt collar loose, teasing at naked collarbones and a dusting of dark hair. Lord, but he was a handsome man, even with his hair mussed and his shirt rumpled.

More so, probably.

Her gaze dipped to his mouth, only inches from hers, and she wondered if he would kiss her again. Anticipation pricked her skin.

Stop it,she ordered herself. Stop it now. There is nothing to anticipate.

She pulled her gaze away and looked down at her lap, smoothing her fingers over the fringe edging her shawl. “I thought I was nearly done with all this,” she said, her tone casual, as if she often held Griffin’s hand in the dark. “The balls and parties and musicales…” She shook her head. “I’d hoped I was finished with them.”

“But I thought you liked the whirl of the Season,” Griffin said, a question in his voice.

“I do,” she said. “I did. At least, I thought I did. I suppose I’m simply bored with it all now.”

He nodded. “I know how you feel.”

“I would love to travel,” she said, wistfulness in the words. “Explore far off places, see parts of the world I’ve never seen before. Even parts of England I’ve never seen before would suffice. I just want to experience something outside of my everyday life.”

Griffin sipped his whisky. “I’ve always wanted to visit Greece,” he said. “Macedonia, Crete. Athens and its Acropolis.”

Olivia rolled her head to the side to look at him. “So why haven’t you?” she asked. “You’re a single gentleman of means. You may come and go as you please.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I’ve never felt I could come and go as I please.”

“Why not?”