Page 9 of This Marquess of Mine

Perhaps he would never care to know her better, perhaps he would always resent her for her mother’s death, but she would never stop trying to curry his favor. She couldn’t help it. He was her only parent, and she wanted his love. She wanted him to be proud of her and, as a woman, there were very few ways in which to achieve this. Marriage was just about the only avenue left to her, and she intended to use it.

“Meow.”

The tiny squeak broke into the tense silence, and Olivia smiled as the kitten clumsily leapt from her lap to the floor and stretched her limbs with a lusty yawn.

“She is so darling,” Olivia said, as the little ball of black fluff flopped onto the floor and began chewing on her paw. “What on earth possessed your brother to bring a kitten home?”

Emmy shook her head. “I really don’t know. He says he found her and thought to give her to me and Mother for a pet.”

Olivia’s brows dipped. “He found her? Where?”

Emmy popped a bite of buttered scone into her mouth and shrugged. “On the street, apparently.”

“Hm.” Olivia looked down at the kitten, now playing hopscotch on the patterned Persian rug. “It is difficult to picture your brother in the role of savior. Even for a tiny, helpless kitten.”

“But, of course, I only saved the thing so I could fatten it up and eat it.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of Griffin’s droll voice, and she watched him, her pulse thrumming, as he strolled into the room with confident ease. Her cheeks warmed as her eyes met his, dark gray, beautiful. Mocking.

Always mocking.

“Good afternoon, Olivia,” he said, the words polite, even as his eyes teased.

Her toes curled in her striped satin slippers, and she sniffed, her gaze falling to her lap as she brushed at the fur clinging to her skirts. “Griffin.”

Her mind whirled and her heart leaped, as it often did when Griffin was near, and she mentally admonished the fact that she’d just been caught talking about him. It didn’t matter that what she’d said had hardly been complimentary. She worked hard at making him think she didn’t speak of him, or even think of him, and the dratted man had caught her doing just that.

“And good afternoon to you, too,” Griffin said to the kitten as she trotted across the carpet to greet him.

He scooped her up into his arms, his smile affectionate, his eyes soft, and Olivia’s heart practically melted into a puddle on the floor.

The man was far too handsome for his own good. Certainly too handsome to ignore, no matter how hard she tried. Her gaze flicked over him. Dark hair cut short, broad shoulders, strong thighs. Distractingly large hands.

He wore a dark gray coat and burgundy cravat over black trousers and boots. The image of the perfect marquess, ruggedly elegant, effortlessly assured. Entirely irresistible.

Olivia swallowed and looked away, her lips thinning. Drat it all, she wasn’t supposed to melt over him. Not anymore. Not after what happened last December when she’d humiliated herself before him at the Stevensons’ Christmastide house party, when he’d called her a silly, spoiled brat.

Not after he took such care to show me how little he thinks of me.

“Are you two ladies ready to leave?” Griffin asked, and Olivia looked at him, confusion crinkling her brow.

“I am,” Emmy said, pushing off the sofa and smoothing the wrinkles from her pale peach gown. “Are you ready, Livvy?”

Olivia slowly rose to her feet, her perplexed gaze on Emmy’s face. “I am, but what...”

Emmy gave her a wide smile. “My mother asked Griffin to be our escort during her recovery,” she said cheerfully. “And he agreed. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

Olivia looked at Griffin and found him watching her, absentmindedly scratching the kitten’s ear as a smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh, yes,” she said faintly. “Very sweet, indeed.”

And very, very unwelcome.

“Shall we, ladies?” Griffinswept his kitten-free arm toward the door, eager to leave and get this deuced outing over with as quickly as possible.

Emmy gave the kitten’s ears a scratch before heading for the door, humming to herself. Olivia followed, tugging on her gloves as she glided past Griffin, a serene smile pasted to her lips, her blue gaze resolutely avoiding his.

He sighed. She didn’t want him here, just as he knew she wouldn’t. And though she tried to hide it, he’d caught the brittle edge to her smile.