Page 7 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Three

“She’s beginning to try my temper, Livvy,” Lady Emmaline Keswick complained as she fell back against the pale green sofa cushion with a dramatic sigh. “If this goes on much longer, I’m afraid I might do something desperate.”

Olivia chuckled softly from the seat beside her, mindful of the tiny kitten curled up on her lap, dozing like a sweet angel.

“You ought to be battle-hardened by now,” she said, arching her brows at Emmy. “Your mother has been trying your temper for years.”

“I know.” Emmy frowned and brushed a dark curl from her cheek. “But I don’t usually feel so guilty about it.”

Olivia smothered a smile. She and Emmy were gathered in the warm, comfortably elegant drawing room at the Keswicks’ townhouse, sharing a light repast of tea and scones before heading off to Bond Street to visit the shops, weather permitting. A light, late spring storm had blown in overnight, covering the sky with a flimsy quilt of clouds, portending a potentially drizzly day.

Emmy was not as fashion-minded as Olivia, but she hoped an afternoon out would help to lift her friend’s spirits. At least it would provide a respite from her grumpy mother.

“Your mother’s ankle will be good as new in a few weeks,” she said, “and then you can go back to being irritated with her sans guilt like you’re used to.”

Emmy sighed. “I only hope I can last that long.”

“I shall say a nightly prayer for you,” Olivia teased, patting Emmy on the knee.

The kitten lifted her head, yawned adorably and with a smack of her lips, promptly went back to sleep.

“I should probably do the same for my aunt,” Olivia mused aloud, stroking the kitten’s fur. “Your mother is driving her mad, as well.”

“Is she?” Emmy’s head came up, her gray eyes alight with curiosity. “Why?”

Olivia’s smile turned wry. “Because she’s being too nice. Aunt Augusta feels awful about the accident, and I think she would feel better if Lady Keswick were angry with her, but instead she’s being the soul of charity, and it’s making my aunt feel worse. She thinks she’s doing it on purpose.”

Emmy snorted a laugh, her smile deepening the dimples in her cheeks. “Well, of course she’s doing it on purpose. My mother is a very shrewd woman. She knows precisely what she’s doing to your aunt.”

Olivia blinked. “Goodness. I had no idea Lady Keswick was so devious.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as that,” Emmy said. “But I will own that she can be rather...creative when it comes to getting what she wants.”

Olivia chuckled. The way Emmy spoke of her mother, one might almost believe she disliked the woman when, in fact, the opposite was true. Emmy adored Lady Keswick and the feeling was mutual. Although they were unalike in nearly every way, the love between them was genuine.

If not for Lady Keswick’s determination to marry Emmy off and Emmy’s total disinterest in cooperating, the two would probably be the best of friends.

Olivia couldn’t help envying their relationship. It was by no means perfect, but it was a far cry better than the one Olivia shared with her father. At least Lady Keswick cared for her daughter. Would Olivia’s mother have cared for her? Would the two of them share the same closeness Emmy shared with her mother? She liked to think they would but, of course, she would never know for sure.

“By the way,” Emmy said, reaching out to pet the still-dozing kitten, “how was your drive with the duke yesterday? Has the idiot proposed to you yet?”

Olivia’s lips pursed at the insult—the idiot was the man she hoped to marry, after all—but she didn’t bother to scold. Emmy was only trying to be supportive, in her own brash way.

“No,” she said with a sigh. “Not yet. We had a lovely time, though, and at one point I’m certain he would have kissed me if we’d been alone. Even Nellie noticed it.”

“And you would have let him kiss you? If you had been alone?”

Olivia notched her head to one side. “What an odd question. Of course I would have let him. If a handsome duke tried to steal a kiss from you, wouldn’t you let him?”

Emmy shrugged. “I’ve never been tempted to do so before.”

“Really? Not once?”

Emmy shook her head. “Not that a duke has ever tried to kiss me, of course. But other men have, and I’ve always declined.”

“Why?” Olivia couldn’t fathom being three-and-twenty and still unkissed. Kissing was one of life’s greatest pleasures, so far as she was concerned.

“I didn’t see the point, I suppose,” Emmy said. “I cared nothing for any of them, and if I didn’t feel anything before kissing them, why should I feel anything after?”