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The image of a husband and children instantly popped into her head, but she told herself she was merely referring to her sisters and nothing more. She had told the truth to Mr. Stone when she said she hadn’t intended to marry, because the thought of suffering the same fate as her mother had always weighed heavily on her mind.
Olivia spent most of the day with Mrs. Evans, who had left her eldest son in charge of the inn. Dinner would be moved to the assembly rooms where everyone would congregate for a large feast. “Most of the village ladies have likely spent most of the day baking, but there is never a complaint, as the end result is generally worth all the effort.”
There was only one point when Olivia wondered if her ‘husband’ had returned to the inn at last, or if he planned to attend the gathering. She decided that whether he did or not, she would enjoy herself.
That evening, after a day of preparation, a crowd began to gather. She helped Mrs. Evans pass out cups of the same spiced cider that Olivia had consumed that morning at the inn and smiled at the merriment going on around her as they waited for supper to be announced.
The area quickly filled with the buzz of conversation, and some of the younger children gathered together to play Bouts-Rimés. Olivia noted the laughter that rang throughout the group as they spouted off some rather ridiculous poetry, while many of the older set stood around and cheered them on.
But it wasn’t until someone started to play the violin that it became a true ball. Several couples began to line up for a country reel and Olivia watched as more than one hopeful, young man approached a girl with uncertainty in his gaze.
Olivia watched them for a time, wishing that she could be so carefree and spirited, but it had never been in her nature. She would have made a perfect wallflower if her sisters had only allowed her to do so, but they imagined she liked flirting and sparring with the opposite sex as much as they did.
She sighed, because at times, she wondered if they had really known her at all.
Suddenly feeling a bit out of sorts, Olivia began to scan the rest of the assemblage. She saw the local vicar standing off to the side, along with her hired coachman. He caught her glance and doffed his hat while she responded with a slight wave of acknowledgement.
She continued her perusal and spied a newcomer standing off to another corner of the room. Her breath caught. Mr. Stone was dressed casually in black trousers and a bottle-green jacket with a white shirt, cravat, and waistcoat, but he still managed to stand out from the rest of the men in attendance. Not only was his height impressive, but he commanded the very air around him, as if he’d been a born leader. She supposed that’s what had made him such an impressive military man. She wondered how long he’s been standing there, because she found it impossible to believe that she hadn’t noticed him until then.
All at once, he turned his head and looked directly at her, and she could have sworn that she couldfeelthat glittering gaze upon her. It made her skin prickle with awareness and her heart thump in her chest.
As the music to the current dance drew to a close, he clapped along with the rest of the crowd and there was a brief moment—a flash of awareness somewhere in the corner of her mind, as if she actuallyknewhim from some other time or place—but then she blinked, and it faded away as quickly as it had appeared.
Nevertheless, she was spellbound as he wove his way through the crowd until he was standing directly in front of her. “Lady Olivia.”
She swallowed nervously. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed the sound of that raspy voice saying her name. “Mr. Stone,” she murmured, with decided uncertainty. She didn’t like not knowing where she currently stood with him. Was he still upset from earlier? Or had he decided to smooth things over?
However, when he held out his hand to her, she realized she had her answer. “Would you care to stand up with me for the next set?”
She looked into those dark eyes and saw that he was willing to make amends. She didn’t imagine that he was the type of man to apologize easily, but that this was his attempt at an olive branch.
With a shaky hand, she accepted his offering. In London, she would have shied away from any such attempt from a gentleman, but in the off chance she was coerced by Minty to dance, she generally didn’t say more than two words to her partner. Afterward, she generally wasn’t asked by the same man again.
Olivia’s head was spinning as she stood across from her partner now, and she prayed she didn’t embarrass herself too much as they came together for the first round of the dance. She wondered if she should say something. It appeared the other couples were more than happy to converse, but while they were silent, it wasn’t awkward or forced, but rather a mutual agreement. In such, it made her feel a bit more comfortable and before long, she was starting to skip about the floor with the knowledge of a lady who had been taught the steps by a skilled teacher, which, of course, she had.
She was equally surprised to find that Mr. Stone was quite adept on his feet as well. It made her wonder how an estate manager might have learned the steps so smoothly. But perhaps he had learned on his afternoons off. She had known Lord Somers to be a good man to his staff, and although she didn’t know the reasons that had caused Mr. Stone to leave the earl’s employ, she had to believe that he had a good reason for taking a new position with the new Duke of Marlington.
Either way, it wasn’t her business to pry. The only thing she had to expect from Mr. Stone was for him to keep his distance until they reached Canterbury. After that, they could each go their separate ways.
At least, as much as Marlington Hall would allow.
After the dance had concluded, Mr. Stone led her back over to the refreshment table. She didn’t have time to speak before he withdrew a small box wrapped with a simple white bow from the inside of his jacket pocket. He held it out to her. “This is for you,” he said softly. “Merry Christmas.”
* * *
Miles could tellthat he’d surprised her, for her eyes widened and her mouth parted. His gaze was riveted on the latter. She tempted his self-control beyond reason. It was why he’d gotten so upset earlier that day and lashed out like a royal arse. She had no idea the impact she had on him, that he wanted her with a desire he had thought was diminished long ago. He prayed she never did. It was a power that she could wield to cut him down permanently, to finish what the enemy had failed to do all those years ago.
But since he had been feeling the huge weight of guilt for being so cold and distant when she had merely been trying to be kind, he knew that he had to do something to make amends, something other than words.
He’d wandered around the village in the cold for a time, peeking through various dark windows, hoping that at least one shop would be open and he could find just the right gift for her. However, it was Christmas Day, and he knew that most would have closed up early, or not open up at all because it was the one time families could come together without feeling regret.
Thankfully, Miles had come upon a jeweler that had a candle in the window. He tried the door and found that it was unlocked, so he’d strode inside. A small bell above the door rang as he walked over the threshold and an older gentleman with a wealth of gray hair and sideburns looked up when he entered. “Good day, sir.” He said with a welcoming smile. “’Ow can I ’elp ye?”
Miles rubbed his gloved hands together to bring some of the warmth back into his fingers, chilled even through the leather. “I wasn’t sure you would be open,” he noted. “But I’m glad you are. I’m in need of a gift.” He paused, and then added, “For someone special.”
“Ah.” The shopkeeper nodded knowingly. “Ye ’ave a lady friend ye’re lookin’ t’ impress, are ye?”
Miles didn’t deny it. It wasn’t completely inaccurate, but he didn’t agree either, preferring to let the man come to his own conclusions.
