Page 9 of How to Capture a Duke

Olivia experienced a premonition of warning as she followed a liveried servant to the wing where the dowager’s private parlor was located. Priceless paintings by renowned Dutch and British artists graced the walls. She passed a music conservatory, a ballroom, a library, a study, and many others. She soon lost count.

“Rosehill has two hundred rooms,” the servant said as if reading her mind.

Two hundred rooms! What would a lady do with such a grand house?

At last, he stopped in front of a door and reached for the handle. The door swung open to reveal a richly paneled room of rosewood, striped gold and blue damask furniture, and blue silk curtains. The dowager stood by the mantle with her cane, dressed in a green silk gown with Brussel’s lace at the neck and sleeves. She nodded when Olivia entered.

“Lady Olivia, please sit.”

Olivia curtsied then noticed Lady Samantha sitting on the settee.

Olivia hesitated. What on earth was Samantha doing here? Her mother had led her to believe the dowager duchess sought a private audience. Samantha met Olivia’s gaze, and one corner of her mouth lifted. Not quite a smile, closer to a smug look of satisfaction.

Olivia smoothed her skirts and perched on the settee beside her.

Leaning on her cane, the dowager left the mantle to occupy a chair across from both ladies. “It has come to my attention that Lady Samantha’s diamond necklace has gone missing.”

Olivia glanced at Samantha, who sniffled then began to cry.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Olivia said.

“It is a family heirloom.” Samantha dabbed at her tears with an embroidered handkerchief.

“That’s unfortunate. Hopefully, it will be found,” Olivia said, unsure of what sort of response was expected.

The dowager gave Olivia a pointed look. “It has. In your portmanteau.”

Olivia’s mouth gaped in shock. “Pardon?”

“Where were you this afternoon?” the dowager asked.

“You cannot possibly think… There must be some mistake.” She saw it then—the same glimmer of hatred in Samantha’s gaze she’d recognized before. It was gone in a flash as she continued to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Lady Samantha wore the necklace in the breakfast room. An hour later, it was gone,” the dowager said.

“I didn’t take her necklace. She must have misplaced it there. Maybe the clasp broke and—”

Samantha shot to her feet. “That’s absurd! Now she is making excuses. She has coveted my necklace. Everyone heard her praise it last night. She took it and hid it in her portmanteau!”

Olivia felt a nauseous sinking in her gut. Samantha had warned her, but she hadn’t believed her. Had she fallen into a well-laid trap? Olivia had complimented Samantha on the necklace in an attempt to effect a truce between them. Had a simple act of kindness now made her a suspect?

The dowager leveled her gaze at Olivia. “I shall only ask you one more time. Where were you this morning? Your mother has no account of your whereabouts.”

The memory of the kiss with the groom returned in a heated rush, and Olivia felt her cheeks redden.

The dowager must have mistaken her blush for a flush of guilt, for she said, “Lady Samantha makes a believable argument. I must ask you to leave Rosehill at once.”

Panic pierced Olivia’s chest. If she was banished from the duke’s house party, the consequences would be profound. Gossip traveled like wildfire, and all would hear of her humiliation. Her mother would be furious.

Olivia’s mind was a whirlwind. “Wait! I went riding immediately after leaving the breakfast room. I was not in the manor. I could not have taken the necklace or hidden it in my baggage.”

The dowager gave her a pointed look. “Do you have a witness? Another lady or a groom?”

“Yes! The head groom. A man named Caleb.”

The dowager paused. “Caleb, you say?” A flicker of emotion flashed across her face, but it was gone so swiftly Olivia thought it a quirk of the sunlight flashing through the windows.

“You were alone? With the groom during your ride?” the dowager asked.