Page 68 of This Marquess of Mine

“Of course not,” Emmy said. “Far too much paperwork. But I wouldn’t mind being the second son.”

Olivia’s smile was tight as she gazed down at her glass of sherry, trying not to watch Griffin as he crossed the drawing room toward the door. She sucked in a short breath of air and waited for the tightness in her chest to ease.

“Is something wrong, Livvy?”

She looked up. “Of course not. Everything is fine.”

Emmy eyed her with suspicion. “No. You’ve seemed out of sorts all evening. And you were even glowering at Miss Highwater during her performance.”

“I was not,” she said, though the argument lacked conviction.

“You were. Which means, either you loathe her for absolutely no reason, or something else is troubling you.”

Olivia worried her lip between her teeth. Perhaps she should tell her. Perhaps sharing her troubles with a friend would make her feel better. Emmy could chatter a person’s ear clean off, but she was a surprisingly good listener, too.

“Something is troubling me,” she said quietly. “Or, rather, someone.”

Emmy’s brows rose with interest. “Who?”

Olivia’s gaze fell to her glass of sherry. “Your brother.”

“Ah.” Emmy did not sound surprised. “What has the fool done now?”

Olivia blew out a frustrated breath and walked over to the hearth, away from the other guests. Emmy followed with her plate in hand, munching on a biscuit.

“I’m so confused, Em,” Olivia said as she turned to face her.

Emmy’s brow puckered. “Confused about what?”

“About him, about his feelings,” she said. “About my feelings.” She leaned her shoulder against the cool papered wall beside the hearth and sighed. “Things are finally beginning to look up for me. Paxton wants to marry me, and I think his mother is finally coming around to the idea. I should be thrilled, and yet…I can’t stop thinking about Griffin.”

Emmy regarded her in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment before she finally spoke. “Did something happen between the two of you? Has something changed?”

Olivia’s gaze dropped to her sherry again and she pursed her lips, considering just how much she ought to share. “We…kissed.”

She looked up to find Emmy watching her with wide gray eyes, the half-eaten biscuit in her hand hovering halfway to her mouth.

“You did what?” she hissed. “Where? When?”

“In Lady Chavel’s rose garden,” Olivia said, her cheeks warming. “And then again in your drawing room. And a third time in Mrs. Lubbock’s folly.”

Emmy’s jaw dropped open. “You’ve shared three kisses and you’re just now telling me?”

Olivia gave a sheepish half-shrug. “You’re his sister. Talking about it with you felt…strange.”

Emmy frowned. “I suppose that makes sense,” she said, though she did not seem happy about it. If there was one thing Emmy hated above all else, it was being left out.

“So, you’ve shared three kisses,” she said, dropping the unfinished biscuit onto her plate. “What are you going to do about it?”

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know. Nothing, probably.”

“Nothing?” Her frown deepened. “He kissed you three times, Livvy. Don’t you think that means something?”

Her gaze drifted to the pianoforte, where a new young lady had begun to perform. She honestly didn’t know what to think. She wished it meant something. She wished it meant everything, but she was not naive. Two people could share physical intimacies without also sharing emotional ones.

“Perhaps it does mean something,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think it means enough to make him want to marry me.”

“You could always ask him.”