Page 51 of My Deal with the Wrong Duke

“What about your irritated face?”

“They are interchangeable. It saves time.”

She studied him. His coat was still impeccable, his cravat still perfectly arranged, his posture still carrying the loose confidence that made drawing rooms feel smaller when he entered them. But there was a tension in his shoulders tonight she had not seen before. A tightness across his upper back that pulled at the fabric of his coat.

“Oliver,” she said. “This is what the arrangement was designed to do. Frederick is inviting me to spend a fortnight at a private estate with his closest friends. He introduced me to Lord Ashton’s wife. He danced with me twice.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you look as though I have told you your horse has gone lame?”

His eyes met hers. A flash of heat moved behind them, quick, complicated, disappearing beneath the careful surface before she could read it.

“I am glad for you,” he said. “Truly.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You should tell Eleanor. She will want to plan your wardrobe.”

Louisa smiled. It felt thin on her mouth. She wanted to press him the way she had pressed him during the waltz, to find the unfinished sentence he kept pulling back. But the supper room was full, Frederick was returning from his conversation with Lord Ashton, the evening was reassembling itself around them.

“I should go,” she said.

“Yes. You should.”

She turned. She walked toward Frederick. She did not look back.

CHAPTER 15

Oliver watched her go. He watched her take Frederick’s arm, watched Frederick’s hand settle at the small of her back, watched her tip her chin up to laugh at a remark he could not hear. His stomach clenched. He picked up the claret from the marble ledge. He drank it in one swallow.

“Steady.” Sebastian appeared beside him with two glasses of port. “Lady Acker’s claret deserves better than that.”

“I was thirsty.”

“Thirsty. Of course.” Sebastian pressed the port into his hand. “Congratulations are in order, I understand. The house party.”

“Your arrangement appears to be a resounding success.”

“It is.” Oliver drank the port with more care than the claret. Across the supper room, Frederick was pulling out Louisa’s chair at a small table near the window. He murmured a remark. Louisa pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. Frederick looked gratified. “She is doing well.”

“She is doing brilliantly. Lady Arden complimented her during the interval. Lady Arden has not complimented anyone since the Treaty of Amiens.”

“I believe that is an exaggeration.”

“It is barely an exaggeration. The woman once told the Austrian ambassador his French was provincial.” Sebastian sipped his port. “Miss Fairchild managed to make her laugh.”

“Louisa is easy to like. People are finally noticing.”

“People. Or Frederick?”

“Both. That is the point.”

“Of course. The point.” Sebastian turned to face the supper room. Frederick was refilling Louisa’s glass from the claret jug, leaning close, his elbow on the table between them. The posture was intimate, deliberate. Oliver watched Frederick’s fingers brush hers as he passed the glass. He looked away.

“You seem tired,” Sebastian observed.

“I am tired.”