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‘No.’ Decima spoke without needing to think about it. ‘No,’ she added more thoughtfully. ‘I think she is in awe of him and very shy. But he is a marvellous match for her.’
‘I would say she is terrified,’ Henry observed so dispassionately that Decima would have been quite taken in, if another unfortunate plant was not decapitated as he spoke.
‘Surely not? What is there to be frightened of?’ Decima looked at her friend incredulously. ‘Adam has the most even temper—look how he coped with all the problems when we were snowed in. Why, Charlton would have been in a flaming rage after an hour, and I am sure even you would have been somewhat put out.’
‘He has high rank, doubtless major households to maintain…’
‘Olivia has been raised to be a gentleman’s wife. She might be nervous of the responsibility—but afraid?’
‘Quite, that was my feeling,’ Henry agreed with her. ‘I was wondering if perhaps…physically…’ He stopped speaking and walked on in silence.
‘Granted Adam is very tall, and Olivia very tiny…’ Decima began, still thinking about how Olivia might feel, confronting such a large specimen of masculinity, especially when he was not in a particularly conciliatory mood. Then her imagination caught up with her and she found herself wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to lose her virginity to Adam Grantham.
Alarming, she decided. She found herself blushing from head to toe. Surely Henry wasn’t referring to that aspect of marriage?
Tentatively she ventured, ‘If you mean that she might be afraid of the, er…marriage bed, I am sure Olivia is too innocent to be worried about that.’
‘Of course she is,’ Henry said vehemently. ‘I’m not making much sense, am I?’ he added, sounding wretched.
‘If I didn’t know any better,’ Decima ventured, ‘I would say you were jealous.’
She expected him to deny it. Instead he swung round to face her. ‘I am. I am in love with Olivia.’
‘But…but you hardly know her! Henry, you cannot be, surely?’
‘She is the other half of me,’ he said vehemently. ‘I looked into her eyes and there it was. When I held her in my arms, danced with her, then I knew.’
‘What does she feel?’ Decima found it difficult to form the sentence, she felt so breathless.
‘I cannot be certain—trust me, I said nothing, of course—but I am sure she felt an affinity, a liking.’
‘Henry, you cannot pay court to her,’ Decima protested.
‘I know it.’ He took a vehement stride away, then spun round to face her. ‘Unless she breaks off the engagement to Weston, my hands are tied. To do anything else would be dishonourable.’
‘What a coil,’ she said miserably. ‘I love him, you love her—and whatever it is they feel, I cannot believe it is a love match between them. What are we going to do?’
‘Do you want to go back to Norfolk, Decima?’
‘We cannot. We must stay and support your mama and Caro.’
‘You could go.’
‘I am not running away. And in any case…’ she tucked her arm affectionately through his again and began to walk on ‘…I am not leaving you to be miserable. After all, who else is there for you to talk to about this?’
They walked in silence for perhaps twenty minutes, then turned back towards Green Street. ‘We must avoid them both,’ Henry said resolutely as they approached his front door. ‘Heaven knows, there’s society and diversions enough in town without us needing to run up against two people.’
‘Absolutely,’ Decima agreed. A carriage passed them and drew up at the steps. ‘I wonder who that is?’
‘The frustration of a sensible resolution,’ Henry replied grimly as the footman opened the door and set down the step for Olivia Channing to alight.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Miss Ross, Sir Henry, good morning.’ Olivia regarded them shyly from under the brim of an enchanting blue bonnet. ‘I am glad I found you at home, I was a little worried this was a trifle early to call.’
‘Allow me.’ Henry ushered her up the front steps and was rewarded by a sweet smile and a blush. Decima cast her eyes skywards and followed. ‘May I offer you refreshment, Miss Channing? I am not sure where my mother and sister are…’
The butler emerged from the shadows to relieve the ladies of their outer garments. ‘Her ladyship and Miss Caroline have gone shopping, Sir Henry. They have taken the barouche.’
