“That is very kind of you, Mr. Garsed,” Mrs. Monteith gushed. “I’m sure no one is more to be relied on than you when it comes to fashionable food.”
“I pride myself on it, Mrs. Monteith.”
“I wonder if my cook would thank you, Theodore,” Nic drawled, lounging back in his chair, one hand jammed in his pocket, his dark hair falling over his brow, his eyes gleaming with malice. “She and her family have been with my family for generations, and our loyalty to each other is a matter of pride. I don’t think she’d understand if I sacked her because she couldn’t cook the latest recipe from Paris.”
Theodore, flushed and humiliated, rose to his feet. “You’re willfully misunderstanding me, Lacey. But I refuse to be insulted by a man who eats jam roly-poly.” And he shuddered.
“Oh? What a shame.”
“Lord Lacey,” Olivia said sharply.
He met her reprovin
g gaze and then shrugged and said mildly, “Miss Monteith wants me to apologize, Theodore, so I will. No need to throw a tantrum.”
“I have never thrown a tantrum in my life, Lacey. Far too undignified.”
“You disappoint me. I hoped you were going to call me out. I am a crack shot, you know.”
Mrs. Monteith gasped and clasped a hand to her breast. “A duel, oh Lord no…”
“I have no intention of upsetting Miss Monteith by calling you out.” Theodore bristled, even redder than before. “I value her peace of mind.”
“Lord Lacey isn’t fighting a duel with anyone,” Olivia interrupted in a firm voice, casting Nic a warning glance. “Are you, my lord?”
Nic hesitated, sorely tempted, and then he smiled at her, an unapologetic smile, and shook his head. “No, Miss Monteith.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” Mrs. Monteith exclaimed.
“I forgot to tell you that I’ve heard from my brother, Alphonse, Miss Monteith. He’s visiting me. You have met him before…?”
Olivia looked as if it hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but she rallied a smile. “I have, Mr. Garsed. I look forward to renewing the acquaintance. Will he be staying long?”
“I don’t know. With my brother, Alphonse, one never knows.”
Just then the mantel clock chimed the half hour. There was an expectant silence. Nic knew what that meant: Polite society decreed that half an hour was all the time one was allowed for a visit in this situation. Theodore would also be well aware of such a decree—in fact he had mentioned it on their way in—and, unlike Nic, he would never flaunt such a basic rule of etiquette.
As Nic expected, Theodore cleared his throat loudly, and when Nic didn’t move, he spoke with a blustering attempt at authority. “Is that the time? We really should be leaving.” And he gave Nic a pointed look.
Nic brushed at his cuff and remained exactly where he was.
“Miss Monteith needs her rest,” Theodore said petulantly, deflated.
“Of course she does,” Nic agreed, remaining where he was.
Mrs. Monteith looked as if she wished she could order them both out, but she was too polite, and after hovering in the doorway a moment, she gave up on Nic. Theodore murmured something close to her ear, and with a hunted glance at Olivia, she accompanied him through the doorway. Nic could hear Theodore’s complaints fading into the distance.
The room fell silent, and at last Nic was exactly where he wanted to be. Alone with her.
Chapter 6
The parlor was very quiet, apart from the ticking of the clock, and Olivia was beginning to think she wasn’t strong enough yet to be alone in a room with a man like Nic. His magnetism, his presence, shook her to the core. But she wasn’t a coward, and she forced herself to look up.
He was watching her with a smile hovering around his mouth, his dark eyes intent. His long body was folded into the chair, graceful without the conscious pretentiousness of Theodore. Nic Lacey was charismatic without even trying.
“You were disgraceful,” she said reprovingly.
“I meant to be. I wanted to save you from a fate worse than death—marriage to Theodore Garsed.”