“Pardon?” Olivia twisted sideways to stare at him with wide, startled eyes.
“Are you and Mr. Galey lovers?”
“No! What would make you think so?” she replied.
“The way you act together, the way he always touches you. He is staying with you at Belhaven.” Max raised an eyebrow in question.
“Julien came to Belhaven to mark the anniversary of Henry’s death. We have a unique connection as the two people Henry loved most.”
Max winced. He used to be in that category; someone Henry loved best. He withdrew his arm from around her and stared ahead. “But he kissed you last night.”
Olivia poked him. “Under the mistletoe, which you hung all over the house. You have kissed me a half dozen times under said mistletoe.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. The mistletoe is just a pretense. I want to kiss you. I cannot stop myself from wanting to kiss you.”
Olivia opened her mouth and closed it. “Julien Galey is a good friend, and he does not want more from me. We are not, nor ever have been, lovers.”
They passed the pond where they had ice-skated. Olivia guided the sleigh to turn left down a snow-covered lane.
Max snorted. “Oh, he wants more. Whether or not you know it.” What man wouldn’t?
She huffed out a breath. “No, he does not. I know this because Julien was Henry’s lover, the love of his life.”
Max’s mouth fell open. He blinked several times as he stared at Olivia, trying to process her statement. Henry’s lover? “Pardon me?” he croaked out.
Olivia brought the sleigh to a stop in front of a modest home with a thatched roof. She turned with a sigh. “Julien was Henry’s lover. They were together for seven years.” She climbed out of the sleigh.
Max scrambled out from his side. His mind still reeled from the news. He had so many questions. How had Olivia found out? How long had she known? Why hadn’t Henry ever confided in him? They had once been as close as brothers. It hurt to realize Henry hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about something so important. Just one more hurt to heap upon so many others in the shattered remains of their friendship.
“Grab the basket. Let us deliver the tonic to the Johnsons.” Olivia held up a hand palm facing out. “We can speak more after we get home.”
Max grabbed the basket from the floor of the sleigh. Oh, they would definitely finish this conversation later.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Happy Christmas. Ihope that your family recovers quickly from their illness,” Max said to Mr. Johnson as they readied themselves to go back out into the snow. They had spent a quarter hour chatting with Mr. Johnson and his eldest son. But the sound of the wind howling outside had steadily increased in volume, and when they looked out the window, they found that the light snowfall had thickened, and the wind had picked up, creating swirling snow dervishes.
“Thank you, my lord, Lady Rivenhall,” Mr. Johnson said. “I’m sure Mrs. Peabody’s tonic will help. My wife swears by it. Are you sure you don’t want to wait out the storm? It looks to be getting bad out there.”
Olivia shook her head as she pulled on her thick knit mittens. “No, I think it’s best if we get home before it gets any worse. You need to take care of your family. We will just be in the way.”
Johnson’s son came through the front door and whipped his cap off to shake free the snow covering it. “I’ve brought your horse around from the barn and hitched him to the sleigh.”
“Thank you, Will,” Olivia said.
Max looked skeptically out the open doorway at the heavy snowfall. They were going to freeze getting home. “Let’s go. This looks to get worse before it clears. Good day to you both.”
They hurried down to the sleigh. Max tucked blankets around them and popped open the umbrella. Olivia snapped the reins, and the horse plodded forward against the wind. The umbrella proved to be useless, the wind snapping several spokes and turning it inside out within minutes. Max struggled to close the stupid thing. He took his scarf and wrapped it around the lower half of his face. Then turned and did the same with Olivia’s scarf because her hands were tight on the reins.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled.
The poor horse struggled to pull the sleigh through the deepening snow. They had made it to the far side of the pond when the storm seemed to swell like a wave crashing against the cliffs. The wind whipped the snow around so fiercely Max could not see further than the horse’s snow-covered tail. He heard the jingle of the harness and the whistle of the wind as it screamed across the pond.
“We have to get out of this storm,” he yelled.
Olivia nodded. “I know. My father’s house is not far. I think we can make it there.”
Another quarter hour later, it seemed as though they had hardly made any progress at all. He had wrapped his arm around Olivia, and they were huddled together as the horse slogged through the snow. “Do you know where we are?” he said into her ear.