Page 79 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next sennight passed in relative peace as Olivia settled back into the normalcy of daily life. She attended church service, planted a new rose bush in the garden out back, and even completed the embroidery sampler she’d been working on for the past several months.

Tuesday brought a new letter from Sophie—though, thankfully, she’d received not a word from her father—and on Wednesday, she and her aunt took tea again with the Duchess of Paxton. Not the most enjoyable hour Olivia had ever spent, but the duchess seemed to be warming to her, and her coconut cakes were divine.

Despite how busy she kept herself, her thoughts often strayed to Griffin. How could she help it after the evening they’d shared together? It was an experience she would always remember, but now that it was over, she knew she must let him go.

She’d only seen him once since that night in his bed, and only in passing, a swift ‘good afternoon’ as they passed each other in the hall. Her heart had stuttered at the sight of him, and for one brief moment of weakness, she’d imagined an alternate version, in which he’d dropped to his knees and begged her to marry him before sweeping her into his arms and kissing her senseless.

It was a fool’s fantasy, of course, but she was only human, and an occasionally foolish one, at that.

“Olivia?” Paxton’s soft voice drew her gaze to his. “What is your answer? Will you marry me?”

She studied the man seated beside her on the sofa in her drawing room, taking in his hopeful smile, his kind eyes, and she thought of their outing yesterday in a rowboat on the Thames. It was an unusually warm day and the duke, red-cheeked and sweating in his beautifully-tailored suit, must have been miserable beneath the hot afternoon sun, but he never uttered a single word of complaint. He just seemed happy to be with her.

And she knew, if she asked him to, he would do it all over again.

“Yes, Paxton,” she said with a smile. “I will marry you.”

“Excellent.” He beamed and took her hands in his, leaning forward, his eyes dipping to her lips. “May I claim a kiss from my betrothed?”

She nodded and his lips pressed to hers, soft, cool, respectful. A sweet kiss from her sweet husband-to-be.

“Well,” he said, drawing back, his brown eyes bright with contentment. “I suppose I should leave you now. I have some news to share with my mother”—he grinned—“and I’m sure you will wish to speak with your aunt straightaway.”

She nodded again, her lips tiring from the strain of so much smiling. “Yes, of course. She will be most pleased.”

“And I will see you tonight at Almack’s?” Paxton asked.

“Yes, I will be there.”

“Excellent,” he said again. “I cannot wait to dance my first waltz with my betrothed.”

He waggled his eyebrows and Olivia widened her smile before rising to her feet, suddenly anxious for him to leave.

The duke bowed and bid her farewell, and Olivia watched him walk from the room, listening for the sound of the front door closing before sinking to the sofa again. She fell back against the cushion with a heavy sigh and closed her eyes.

Good heavens, he could be exhausting sometimes.

But she supposed she would have to get used to it. He was to be her husband now.

Her eyes popped open as the words took root in her mind. It had finally happened, hadn’t it? She was betrothed now. She would finally be a duchess. It was everything she’d been working toward, everything she’d hoped for since the start of the Season.

She sat up, nibbling her lower lip as hope and uncertainty crossed swords in her belly. Would her father be happy with the news of her betrothal? Would he be proud?

She pictured his face, imagined him gazing down at her with affection in his eyes, a beaming smile curling up the ends of his mustache. Hope won out and she smiled. Soon.

“Knock, knock!”

Olivia sat up with a jolt as Emmy sailed into the room, looking lovely in a muslin morning dress a shade darker than her eyes.

“Emmy.” Olivia’s gaze darted to the clock on the mantel. “Is it time for our outing already? Where is your mother?”

“She is in the garden with your aunt,” Emmy said. “We are a few minutes early.” She plopped down onto a chair across from Olivia and stared at her expectantly. “I passed the duke on my way in. He seemed in unusually high spirits.”

Olivia nodded. “I…just accepted his proposal of marriage.”

“I see.” Emmy was silent for a moment and then her hands clapped together, and her lips stretched into a bright smile. “Well! Congratulations, Duchess.”