“Are you expecting visitors?” Oliver asked.
Lady Marsh snapped shut her fan. “No, I am not. How annoying! I wanted to go through the list with you. There are some quite lovely girls from whom to choose.”
“Aunt…”
Bentling had reached them. “My lady, there is a young person asking to see you.”
Lady Marsh took the card from the salver and read it. Her face remained impassive. “Very well, Bentling. Show the young person out here to me.”
Bentling bowed and made his stately way back toward the house. Oliver threw himself carelessly into a chair, staring moodily.
A flash of color caught his eye on the edge of the lawn. Oliver looked up and felt his heart give a hard, painful jolt. Miss Vivianna Greentree was standing there in the sunlight, dazzling in a white muslin dress with patterned sprays of yellow and green. And she was holding in her hand a yellow silk parasol with a long, elegant handle and a green silk fringe. It was completely frivolous—one word Oliver had never thought to associate with Vivianna.
As the shock receded, his eyes narrowed. What had she done to herself? Her gown was still extremely respectable, but it was undoubtedly more fashionable, softer, more feminine, and with the tight sleeves and neckline shaped into a low V over her breasts, far more tantalizing. Her hair, too, was softer, with curls looped either side of her face, and the remainder fixed into a knot atop her head. Miss Vivianna Greentree had, like a butterfly, undergone a metamorphosis.
She stepped forward and his gaze slid down over her wide, gathered skirts and stopped, astonished. She had lifted her hem slightly, to assist her progress across the lawn, and he saw now that she was wearing yellow half-boots with ribbons tied at her narrow ankles, accentuating their delicacy.
His mouth actually watered.
A vivid image came to him of Vivianna, naked apart from her yellow half-boots. He thought he might instantly combust.
“Oliver?”
Lady Marsh was calling him impatiently. When he turned to her at last, blinking to clear his mind, she was frowning.
“Whatever is the matter, Oliver? Do you know this girl?”
“I do,” he said, and to his relief his voice was its usual lazy drawl. “Prepare yourself, Aunt. You are about to make the acquaintance of Miss Vivianna Greentree.”
&nbs
p; “And who is she?”
“My nemesis,” he replied dryly, and rose to his feet as Vivianna reached them.
“Lady Marsh?” Vivianna’s voice was as firm as ever, but the restless flicker of her eyes told him she was nervous. And well she might be; if anyone could rout Vivianna, then it was Lady Marsh. Oliver prepared to enjoy himself.
“Lady Marsh, I do hope you don’t mind me calling upon you unannounced, and without a proper invitation.”
“It depends on what you are calling for, Miss Greentree.”
Vivianna cleared her throat and glanced at Oliver. Her eyes widened at the sight of his waistcoat, and then shifted to his face. For some reason her gaze appeared to stick there, and she let it linger, perusing each feature one at a time. When she reached his mouth, Oliver grinned, and watched her face turn fiery beneath the parasol.
Lady Marsh sent Oliver a stern look, and then raised her brows at Vivianna. “Well, Miss Greentree? I am waiting. What is it you want?”
“Perhaps your nephew has mentioned my name, Lady Marsh?”
“No, I cannot say he has.”
Lady Marsh was giving her no leeway, and Oliver grew even more amused. Had Vivianna met her match? He almost felt a little sorry for her—almost.
“Oh.” Vivianna made as if to glance at Oliver again and then thought better of it, stiffening her back and staring directly at Lady Marsh. The creamy slope of her naked shoulders, and the swell of her breasts beneath the white muslin, were presented for Oliver’s inspection. Not to mention her delightful profile. He prepared to admire her without, for once, being the object of one of her lectures.
“Lady Marsh, I am one of the founders of the Shelter for Poor Orphans, a private charitable organization which assists abandoned children. The shelter is located at Candlewood, and there my friends and colleagues are caring for some twenty-five orphans.”
Lady Marsh looked a little startled. “Indeed.”
“Your nephew wishes to demolish Candlewood, which will leave us with nowhere suitable to house the children. I have asked him to change his mind, but thus far I don’t seem to have made much impression upon him.”