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Max and Mr. Bromley both rose and watched Olivia walk across the room toward the long bar. A handsome blond man smiled broadly at her as she approached. Max frowned as they clasped hands, and the man bussed her cheek.

He forced himself to move his focus back to Mr. Bromley. “So, we will see you Friday morning to have a tour of the estate?”

“Yes.” Mr. Bromley lowered his voice. “I am relieved to have passed the test with Lady Rivenhall. She certainly knows what’s what.”

“She certainly does.” Max shook Mr. Bromley’s hand. “See you later this week.”

Then he walked across the main room to where Olivia spoke with the blond man. She tilted back her head and laughed at something the man said. The sounds warmed his heart but also ignited a small flame of jealousy in his chest. He lengthened his stride. “Hello.”

Olivia turned, a smile still played across her lips. “Drake, may I introduce you to Mr. Lucius Grisham. You met his wife this morning. He is Lady Weston’s brother.”

Ah. His jealousy faded. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Grisham,” he said with a nod.

“Nice to meet you as well. I have heard plenty about you already.” Mr. Grisham grinned as he looked him over.

Olivia gave the man a sharp look. But it just made Mr. Grisham chuckle. “Well, if you will excuse me, I need to get back to my deliveries.” He hefted a small barrel from the floor to rest it atop his right shoulder.

“Mr. Grisham makes the ale you drank. He has just opened a brewery right here in Marbury,” Olivia said.

Max raised his eyebrows. “That was the best tasting ale I’ve had in some time.”

“Thank you. That means a lot. Mr. James is my first big customer. He serves three of my brews here in the dining room.”

“Well, I’d like to order a barrel for Belhaven. Can that be arranged?”

“Certainly!” Mr. Grisham’s face lit up. “Good day to you both. Must be off.” He turned and left through a door in the rear.

When Max glanced down at Olivia, she contemplated him with soft eyes. He thought perhaps she was going to cry again. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. That was very kind of you. To support his business, I mean. It will mean a lot to him and Eleanor. Thank you.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “His beer is excellent. I wouldn’t have ordered it if it wasn’t.”

The smile she aimed at him felt like the sun emerging from behind gray skies, and its warmth hit him right in the center of his chest. “Do you mind if we stop and pick up the post since we are in town?”

“Not at all,” Max replied.

Olivia slid her arm through his as they stepped out of the inn, and the warm spot in his chest spread. “Just around the corner,” Olivia said.

They walked next door to where the carriage house housed fresh horses and fixed broken wheels and such. At the corner of the building was a small receiving room where the mail was held after being dropped off by the mail coach. Olivia approached the middle-aged woman behind the counter. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kirk. I would like to pick up the post for Belhaven, please.”

“Good afternoon, Lady Rivenhall. Surely, just one moment.” The lady bustled to the back of the room to pull a stack from a wooden cubby. When she returned, a wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. She leaned across the counter with a frown. “There is a letter here for Lord Rivenhall, and I didn’t know if it to be a mistake.”

“No, Mrs. Kirk, it is not a mistake.” Olivia gestured to him with one hand. “This is the new Lord Rivenhall, Maxwell Drake. He just arrived in town earlier this week.”

The lady’s eyes widened, and she gave a small curtsy. “Good day to you, Lord Rivenhall. I had not heard.”

“Good day to you, Mrs. Kirk.” Max tipped his hat. “I am surprised there is post for me already. I did not think anyone knew where I was.”

Olivia accepted the small stack of mail and passed him a letter. The flowing script belonged to his mother, and when he saw the return address was London, he sighed. How had they made it to England so quickly? He’d left them in Paris only three weeks ago. His mother had been quite excited about his new status, and at the time, the calculating gleam in her eye had made him roll his eyes. But if they were in England, she must have plans to take advantage of his new title. He raised his gaze from the letter to find Olivia watching him thoughtfully. “It’s from my mother,” he explained.

“Ah.” She nodded.

He broke the red wax seal and unfolded the pages. Scanning the missive, he let out another long sigh. Just what he needed.

“What is it? Bad news?”

Raising his gaze, he said, “Livvy, we better get home.”


Tags: Karla Kratovil Historical