Braden clapped a hand to Oliver’s back. “And to Prestwood here too.”
Lacy appeared a bit sheepish. “I’m glad it’s been of use.”
“It really is genius.” Oliver reached his hand out to shake Lacy’s. “Very happy to meet you.”
“Prestwood’s seat is a few villages away,” Braden said in way of introduction. “But you do have me curious now, Lacy. Crop rotationandRenaissance art, is there any subject you don’t find fascinating?”
The man furrowed his brow for a moment and then said, “Fashion and the art of dancing. I’m afraid I’m quite dismal at both.”
Oliver laughed at that. “No frivolities. Noted.” He rounded one of the chairs to sit across from Lacy. “But in all honesty, your two-year theory has increased my yield substantially over the three years my father followed. I am quite—”
“There you are!” came Grace’s voice, halting every other thought in Oliver’s mind. He couldn’t see her where he was sitting, but he could hear her and no one else in the world sounded like her. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to leap from the chair and catch her in his arms. “I should have guessed you were holed up in the library,” she continued and then walked past Oliver’s chair, wearing a light green riding habit. Grace reached her hand out to Lacy, who pushed out of his chair and took her hand in his. “We were supposed to go riding, you know?” she complained half-heartedly.
Lacy’s expression softened as his gaze lingered on Grace. “I am sorry, my love, you know how time gets away from me.”
My love?
Oliver’s stomach twisted into a knot, and his heart lodged in his throat. Damn it all to hell. He thought he was going to be sick. “My lady,” he croaked out. “You are looking well.”
Grace’s head snapped in Oliver’s direction. She obviously hadn’t seen him until that moment, and her pretty green eyes widened, and her mouth fell slightly open in surprise. Dear God, to be that close to her again, and yet be so far apart at the same moment.
“L-lord Prestwood,” she stammered. “I hadn’t heard that you’d returned.”
And he hadn’t heard that she’d married this bloody scholar either. Was she married? Perhaps she was just betrothed. Or perhaps he intended to ask her, but hadn’t done so yet.My love. Those words echoed in Oliver’s ears and a cool chill of nausea washed over him.My love. Damn it all. He’d always known she’d end up as some other man’s wife, but he never expected it to shake him right to his core. He never expected it to feel like someone had ripped his heart from his chest.
Oliver lookedlike he might be ill. And Grace knew exactly how he felt. She’d felt it herself four years ago when she learned that her future could never be aligned with his.
“It’s not too late to go now, is it?” Daniel asked, but Grace barely heard him. It was difficult to focus on anything with Oliver just a few feet away. “Grace?” Daniel prodded.
“Go now?” she echoed, pulling her gaze from Oliver back to her intended.
“Riding,” Daniel replied. “Quent’s told me how expert a horsewoman you are. I would like to see so for myself.”
Heavens. She doubted she could even keep her seat at the moment. “Not if you’re in the middle of something. I’d hate to interrupt.” And she’d truly like to throw herself onto her bed and cry her eyes out for at least a day. Perhaps a week. Perhaps the rest of her life. She’d always known this moment would come, but now that it had, she thought she might be ill herself.
“Just discussing crop rotations.” Daniel smiled down at her, that usual warm twinkle in his eyes. “Nothing that should keep us from our ride, Grace.”
“Go, go,” Braden urged. “I’m sure I can convince Prestwood to stay for dinner. We can discuss crops over port.”
Blast it. Braden wasn’t going to make Oliver stay for dinner, was he? “Do you know how utterly boring that sounds, Braden?” she asked, hoping Oliver would use the excuse to return to Prestwood Place and not return again to Highfield until she was gone and safely ensconced in Kent. That was, after all, what would be best for both of them. He had to know that as well as she did.
A smile tugged on her oldest brother’s lips. “Do be careful with your words, darling.Yourfiancée is the foremost expert on the subject.”
Why was she not surprised? Daniel was the foremost expert on so many things. “I should still think it’s hardly the most exciting subject one could discuss over after-dinner port. I’m suddenly quite relieved that we’re always excused while you discuss such scintillating topics, apparently.”
“Perhaps we’ll discuss ladies instead.” Oliver seemed to have suddenly found his voice. “Much more interesting. Perhaps we all share something in common there as well.”
What exactly wasthatsupposed to mean? Grace frowned at him. Was he suggesting he would tell Daniel something abouther? Was that what he meant? And what would he say over after-dinner port with her brothers present? That he’d once stripped her bare and touched every inch of her with his hands and lips? Not unless he wanted Braden to call him out with his next breath. Or was Oliver just going to insinuate enough to make Daniel think so lowly of her that whenever he looked at her, she’d see disgust shining back in his depths? It had taken nearly all season to bring him up to scratch and Oliver could go straight to the devil if he thought he was going to ruin all the effort she had put into this betrothal. “Perhaps you should return to Prestwood Place and dine with your own family,” she snapped.
“Grace.” Braden’s censorious tone echoed around the library.
And all eyes were suddenly on her. Blast Oliver for always getting right under her skin. “I simply meant that Lord Prestwood couldn’t have been home long and perhaps he is needed at home instead of feeling obligated to stay with us, Braden.”
Her brother didn’t look convinced, but Daniel did and that was all that mattered at the moment.
“After traveling days with my mother, my sisters and the infant Marquess of Grasmere, the serenity of Highfield is such a balm for my nerves, I may never leave.”
To what end? To drive Grace stark raving mad until she threw herself from the highest balcony?