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Chapter 9
JarvisescortedOliviatodinner and sat next to her. The dinners were not formal, so the seating arrangements were not prearranged, and they did not follow rank. Jarvis picked a spot in the middle of one of the long tables so he could observe everyone. He’d had time to lie in the bath and coolly process the encounter in the woods. There were a couple of possibilities as to who had shot at him.
The first, and least likely, scenario was that the thugs who were after him had found their way into the estate and were waiting for him in the woods. The possibility of that happening was slim. There were lots of guests on the estate, true. But a couple of badly dressed and groomed bandits wouldn’t be too hard to spot by either guests or the staff.
The second scenario was less far-fetched. As the thugs who’d kidnapped Blake indicated, their leader was a toff, an aristocrat. Perhaps he’d gotten tired of his thugs botching up the job and had gone on the hunt himself. Literally. Considering every aristocrat in the country seemed to be on the estate at the moment, this seemed a very plausible scenario.
And the third scenario was that it was the Shadows. Jarvis had received the warning to stay just this morning, hadn’t he? And perhaps whoever was watching him thought he was sneaking out of the house party by pretending to have a walk in the woods. How they thought he’d walk across the estate and farther, he didn’t know. But the fact was, if he did want to leave this estate, he’d surely find a way, so this might have been a blunt—albeit expressly rude—way of warning him against leaving the premises.
Now, as he watched the guests animatedly converse with each other, he tried to figure out who among his peers could be the man behind this morning’s attack.
Kensington was definitely one of the possibilities. But if he was the one who’d attacked him, why reveal himself and lead the way back to the Roth house? This theory would corroborate the third scenario and would mean that the duke was a Shadow. Perhaps Erebus himself?
Jarvis eyed Kensington as he sat on one side of the long table, his features stony, next to his similarly riveted bride. Kensington was influential, powerful, and contained in his emotions. If Jarvis had to pick one person to be Erebus, it would be him.
“The dinner hasn’t started yet, and I am already boring you, aren’t I?” Olivia said beside him.
“Apologies, my dear.” Jarvis grinned at her. “I was distracted by—”
“The beautiful ladies on the opposite side of the table?”
Jarvis threw a glance back at Kensington and smirked. “Not exactly.” He picked up his glass of wine and sipped leisurely. “You wanted to talk about something?”
Olivia cleared her throat. “Yes, I did.” She cleared her throat again.
Jarvis studied her intently while she moved her seat closer to the table, then smoothed her skirts. She finally turned to him, a frown of concentration between her brows, biting her lip nervously.
“Yes?” Jarvis raised a brow.
“Blast, you’re making me nervous.”
Jarvis blinked. “Now you are makingmenervous. What is so damn hard to ask?”
Olivia giggled and fidgeted in her seat.
What in the world is going on?
Olivia cleared her throat once more and, without meeting his eyes, asked, “Tell me, Jarvis, er… my lord, do you—do you like horses?”
Jarvis blinked. Then he pursed his lips, for the laughter threatened to burst out of him. Olivia wanted to practice her conversation with Bradshaw. That’s why she’d asked him to talk with her. His poor little Olive.
“Yes,” he said. “I love horses.”
“W-what do you love about them most?”
Jarvis decided to lean into the conversation. “Well, I love the freedom they give me when I am out riding. I love the feel of power when I am able to steer the beast at full speed. When I am able to turn the corner with a mere touch of my knee. They are beautiful, majestic creatures.”
Olivia blinked, her eyes locked on where her hands were nervously fidgeting on her lap. “Well, perhaps—”
Jarvis reached out, placed two fingers under her chin, and lifted her face to his. She blinked, and her gaze immediately started running around his face. “Olive, it’s me. You can look into my eyes, I know that.”
“For more than a minute,” Olivia whispered. Then she let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t do it. It’s useless. I am too nervous.”
Jarvis raised a brow. “You weren’t nervous just now. What changed?”
“I wasn’t pretending you’re not you.”
Jarvis looked away in thought. Their plates were filled at that moment, and he took a fork. “How about this? Do not look at me or your lap. Look at your plate. Looking at inanimate objects helps you feel more at ease, doesn’t it?”
