“It is roughly a thousand miles from Paris. And the journey was delayed by bad weather in the Mediterranean.” A footman attempted to pour him tea, but he held up a hand. “I’d prefer coffee if you have it.”
“Certainly, my lord.” The man hurried out of the room.
Olivia wrinkled her nose. “Coffee? I suppose that’s a product of your travels. It smells heavenly but tastes terrible.”
Max couldn’t help but grin at her sour expression. “The coffee in Italy is made in the Turkish style, boiled with spices and sugar in a heated pot. It’s rich and full of flavor. I used to drink several cups a day.”
She frowned and took a sip of her tea. “I must admit I am jealous. You have seen all the places we once dreamed about together.”
This was her first reference to their past relationship. He didn’t know what the proper response should be. He longed to ask her about why she had given up on them. But his instincts told him it was too soon, so he went with, “Didn’t Henry ever take you abroad?”
She shook her head. Her eyes focused on the teacup. Then her gaze lifted, and she opened her mouth to say something. “Max, why—”
“Good morning, everyone.” Julien Galey swept into the breakfast room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Olivia. “Darling, you look lovely.” He moved to her and grasped both her hands. “No more black, ma chérie?”
Olivia looked up and shook her head.
“Is this because of the letter?” Mr. Galey asked.
Olivia nodded. “It’s time.”
Galey lifted one of her hands and kissed it. Max’s instinct was to growl at the man, but he settled for a frown. Mr. Galey had impressively poor timing. Dammit, what had Livvy wanted to ask him?
“I feel the same.” Galey moved around and took a seat. “In fact, I have decided to move forward with my trip.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “You have?”
Would she be upset? Max watched her carefully for signs of distress but instead, a smile spread across her face.
“That’s wonderful, Julien!”
Mr. Galey’s head bobbed up and down. “As you said, it’s time. I know that he would want me to follow my dream.”
The two shared a long look. But not one of longing or even regret but more of shared understanding. Perhaps he had misjudged their relationship. The footman returned with a silver coffeepot. Max nodded, and coffee poured into his cup in a swirl of fragrant liquid. The footman retreated. Max added a splash of cream and took a sip.
Mr. Galey held his cup up, and the footman also poured him coffee. “How do you find it, my lord?” he asked.
“Delicious.”
“Henry always kept good coffee beans on hand for when I visited. I cannot drink the swill you call tea.”
Max chuckled. He glanced over at Olivia. “And how do you feel about such strong statements?”
She shrugged. “I am well aware of Julien’s opinions. And he knows my distaste for coffee. As long as I’m not forced to drink it, I don’t mind it at the table.” She turned back to Mr. Galey. “When do you plan to leave for South America?”
“I hope for early spring. First, I need to arrange for passage, and thanks to Henry’s generosity, I am able to hire what I need. It has only been my fear that has kept me home. But Henry is right; I need to pursue my dream. Life is too short to be afraid.”
“I wish you luck in organizing your journey. Will you go back to town then?” Olivia said.
“I hoped you might have me still for Christmas.” Galey once again took hold of Olivia’s hand.
Why was he always touching her? Max took a sip of hot coffee to hide his frown.
“Yes, of course.” Olivia’s smile disappeared and her expression shuttered. She stood abruptly. “If you will excuse me, I must get going.”
Max stood. “Where are you headed this morning?”
“I am going to go open the bookstore. I know Mr. Buxley usually opened it by nine.”