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“Why are you here?” she asked.
“To make sure you’re all right,” he whispered.
She smiled. “I am all right. And you don’t have to whisper. Nobody is going to hear you.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move. Was he smiling at her? Frowning? She couldn’t tell, for his entire face was hidden from her.
She placed a hand on his cheek and slowly dragged the handkerchief down.
He had a beautiful, chiseled jaw and full lips. She had never paid attention to Jarvis’s lips. She had never studied him this closely. Olivia stood on her tiptoes and reached for his mask. But before she could make another move, he leaned in and placed a kiss on her lips.
This kiss was different from the one with Bradshaw. It was warm and reassuring.
Olivia froze, her hand still caressing his cheek. Her eyes fell shut, and her breathing halted.
Before she knew it, it was over.
She opened her eyes just as he pressed her palm against his cheek, then turned his head and kissed it.
He kissed me!
Does he know it is me? Or course, he knows. I am not the one in the mask!
The thought had a moment to register in her mind when he wrapped the handkerchief back over his face, turned, and fled out the window.
Olivia sat embroidering on the windowsill the next day, lost in thought. Her parents were feeling better this morning, to the point that her father went down to the study for the afternoon. Her mother stayed in her bed most of the day but insisted she’d join the family during supper later in the evening.
The doctor also advised Olivia to stay off her feet today, but she’d definitely inherited the stubbornness of her family. Because try as she might, she could barely sit down for two minutes, mostly pacing in agitation.
She finally took up embroidery in an attempt to keep seated and relaxed.
Even if her attempt to stay seated succeeded, she was not able to divert her mind. Her thoughts kept coming back to last night.
To the kiss.
She could still feel the warm, soft pressure of his lips against hers. She had thought about the kiss the entire night. The familiar scent, the warmth of his body along her limbs, his hot breath against her cheek were all playing out vividly in her mind. She didn’t have any doubt that it had been Jarvis anymore. She had never felt this secure around anyone.
Besides, why would anyone else kiss her?
As a matter of fact, why would he?
Had Annalise’s words held any merit? Had Olivia entirely overlooked the possibility that Jarvis, her longest friend, and confidante, could be her perfect match—the suitor she’d been looking for her entire life?
But how could she have guessed? He had never said anything to her. He had removed himself from her since the first ball of her come-out Season. Why would he not say anything?
There was a light rap on her door, and her lady’s maid entered her room.
“A guest for you, miss,” she said with a broad smile.
Olivia hopped down from the windowsill. Was it Jarvis? Had he come to open his secret to her? She smirked and rushed to the mirror.
Olivia smoothed her gown, her hair, applied a couple of drops of her perfume, and hurried toward the drawing room.
She ran through the corridor and fairly flew into the room, only to stop short.
The gentleman—a guest—waiting for her was not Jarvis.
“Lord Bradshaw,” she said in a strangled tone.
