She turned to the butler. “Mr. Daniels, I would love a pot of hot tea in the drawing room, please. I am frozen through.”
“Yes, my lady. Right away.” Mr. Daniels snapped his fingers, and he and the footman rushed away.
Max held out his arm. He didn’t miss Olivia’s hesitation before she rested her hand on his sleeve. “Here, let’s get you by the fire.” He led them to the drawing room, where a fire roared in the grate. A pair of stuffed chairs covered in a green paisley print sat in front of the fireplace with a wood table in between. Max stretched his legs toward the heat to warm his frozen toes. Across from him, Olivia sat stiffly with her hands neatly folded in her lap and her feet crossed at the ankles. He sighed.
“Olivia, I am sorry about this morning. It was not my intention to make you upset.”
Olivia’s gaze snapped up to his. “I know. I’m sorry I lost my temper. May I ask, what are your plans now that you have inherited?”
Max leaned back in his chair. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think I am cut out to be a London lord. Politics and society and all that. I guess I will have to figure it out eventually.”
“Do you still work at the Louvre?”
“No, a few years ago, I began tracking down items of value for private clients,” Max hedged. He would never tell her that they were often stolen items he fenced for a tidy profit. That was the old him. “The last one, a painting, was an original Vasari that had been missing for decades. It took me months of research to find it.” And minutes to lose it. He swallowed hard, remembering the night he almost died.
One side of Olivia’s mouth quirked up. “You are the same as always then, single-minded when in pursuit.”
He shrugged. There was something nice about being understood. He moved around far too much for any of his acquaintances to know him well. Since childhood, he learned to make friends easily and keep those relationships shallow so it would not hurt when it was time to move on to the next place. But Henry and Livvy knew him intimately. Their friendships had always been deeper.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the tea tray. A footman rolled a cart into the room. Max waited until the service was set and the tea poured before asking, “What was your business today in Marbury?”
“I was visiting with my book club,” Olivia responded.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“My closest friends and I have a sort of book-lending club. We share the best books we have read each month. Mostly it is an excuse to get together and not to let busy lives keep us apart.” She took a sip of tea and relaxed back against her chair.
“That’s nice.”
“Today, we found out that the owner of the bookshop in town suffered some ill health. Mr. Buxley is elderly, quite grumpy, and taciturn. His wife feels that he should close the shop; that it is too taxing for his health. She runs the tea shop next door, which is the true source of income for the couple along with his military pension.” Olivia took another sip of her tea then glanced up at him over the rim. “I told her I would run the bookshop until the end of the year. It would be a shame for the only bookshop in town to close.”
“That sounds like fun. What sort of books does he sell?” Max asked.
Olivia’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to say it’s improper? That as the countess, I shouldn’t be working?”
“That didn’t work out very well for me this morning.” He winked. “I’m a quick learner.”
A small smile flitted across her lips. “The bookshop sells every type of book. There is no rhyme or reason to the shelves. Mr. Buxley simply puts new books in where ever there is room.”
Max leaned forward. “That sounds horrible. How can you find anything?”
“It’s a bit like hunting for treasure. You browse the shelves and choose whatever fits your fancy.”
“You can’t possibly think that is any way to shelve books.”
Olivia scowled. “Well, I think it’s delightful.”
Then her lips twitched, and she burst into laughter. Her shoulders shook with it, and her eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners. “I’m just teasing. I can’t wait to get in there and organize the place.”
Max chuckled. “I’m glad to see you have not lost your mind. You must take me to see this place. I can help. In fact, I may not be able to sleep thinking about the disorganization.”
Olivia’s smile faltered. “Oh, well, my friends have promised to help me. So, I think I have it well in hand.” She stared down intently into her teacup.
Her swift rejection of his offer to help stung, and he realized he’d missed the easy camaraderie they had in the past. Swallowing his disappointment, he sat back in the chair and stared into the fire. This house was technically his now, but he still felt like the boy who tagged along at holiday breaks. This was Henry’s world, and Max felt like an interloper. Henry. Shit, the letter.
Max reached into his inner jacket pocket. “Livvy, I meant to give it to you this morning, but well, you didn’t give me a chance.”
“Give me what?” she replied.