Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The coach was unusually quiet as Warren entered. Anne and his mama were not engaged in any chatter. Rather, they were both staring at him quite intently.
“Well?” Anne asked within seconds of him rapping the roof with his fist, setting the coach into motion.
“Oh, dear!” His mama snapped open the fan hanging from her wrist and waved it in a flustered manner. “You are nothing like your father.”
“And it’s a good thing I don’t take after my father,” Warren murmured.
“I simply don’t understand,” Anne huffed. “You finally find your angel after a decade, and you can’t even manage to capture her attention for longer than half a set.”
“I followed your instructions,” Warren argued. “I followed my instincts.”
“Oh, dear!” His mama repeated over and over, before turning to Anne to ask, “What should we do now? Perhaps we should call upon Miss Olivia tomorrow and appeal for her to overlook his shortcomings.”
Shortcomings! Was the woman opposite him truly the woman who brought him into this world? “I beg your pardon, but pray explain how I am deficient?”
“Warren, dear, aside from attending to the estate and attending sessions at the Lords, you rarely interact with your peers. Now that I’ve given it some thought, aside from Anne, I’d be pressed to name a member of the ton to whom you have spoken more than a few words.”
Anne patted his mama’s knee. “Lady Guernsey, he may be a bit of a bore, but I believe there is hope yet.” She sat back and narrowed her gaze upon Warren. “Did you mention the incident?”
“No. You told me not to.” His gaze flickered between the two women.
He shouldn’t have sought out their advice and simply made his own plans.
However, now that he’d already involved them, he couldn’t simply ignore their advice.
Warren replayed his time with Olivia over in his mind, before confessing, “I did make reference to having seen her at the Velvet Hell.”
“Why ever would you go to the Velvet Hell?” Anne asked.
His mama meekly answered, “He escorted me there.”
“You sought out the assistance of Lady O?”
With a nod, she said, “When I finally realized that there was no way you would have him, what else could I do? All these years, he’s not once shown an interest in another.
” Brows knitted tightly, she glared at him.
“If I hadn’t sought out help, then we wouldn’t have been blessed to meet sweet Miss Olivia.
You must find a way to charm the girl into marrying you. ”
Warren raised both hands in the air in surrender. “I’m not in disagreement.”
“Anne, dear, what should we do?” His mama echoed his earlier plea.
Instead of breaking out into laughter like she had when he posed the question, Anne gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. “Lady Guernsey, leave matters to me.”
And with those simple four words, his mama smiled and visibly relaxed. He didn’t doubt Anne would develop an infallible scheme; however, neither Anne nor he had ever encountered a woman like Miss Olivia. His instincts told him Olivia would not be easily swayed.
The gates to the Avondale estate were more imposing in broad daylight.
As the coach entered, Warren glanced down at the invitation—no, the summons—he’d received as he broke his fast. Flipping the parchment back and forth, he pondered over the possibilities of why the Duchess of Avondale had ordered him to call upon her before calling hours.
Who could he have possibly offended the eve before?
With the coach rolling to a stop, he tucked the parchment into his inner coat pocket and waited for the coach door to swing open.
His curiosity wasn’t to be prolonged as the Duchess of Avondale, alongside Lady Charlotte, was awaiting him a few feet away.
He exited the coach and strode directly over to the women who were staring at him as if they were being approached by a foe rather than a fellow peer.
He executed a bow worthy of a queen. “A good morn to you, Your Grace. Lady Charlotte.”
Lady Charlotte glanced up at the sky as if gauging the position of the sun. “And a good day to you, Lord Guernsey.”
Is the woman seriously insinuating I am tardy?
The duchess’s features remained impartial. “It has come to my attention that Miss Olivia has caught your attention, Lord Guernsey.”
“Are you her guardian?” he blurted. It had occurred to him that he’d not seen Miss Olivia accompanied by anyone other than Lady Charlotte, who was no older than he.
“I am,” Lady Charlotte answered with her chin jutted in the air as if to lessen the foot difference between them.
The duchess turned to her sister-in-law, who added, “For the Season.”
The women continued to converse in a silent language that he’d observed his own mama and Anne use many a time, a language as foreign to him as Russian.
Knowing the best course of action was to remain quiet, Warren allowed his gaze to wander to the expansive mansion behind the ladies. He scanned the windows. Which room was Olivia currently occupying?
A flutter of white material on the ground level drew his attention. Eyes narrowed, he focused on the glass panes, attempting—no, hoping—to spy Olivia’s features peering back at him.
“Lord Guernsey, let’s adjourn to the drawing room,” Lady Charlotte suggested as she spun on her heel and marched toward the front door.
There was no need nor time for him to nod in acknowledgment of the order.
Instead, Warren found himself trailing behind the women up the stairs with a gnawing feeling that the next few hours were going to be far from a normal exchange of pleasantries.
Warren handed the butler his hat, coat, and gloves as they passed through the foyer.
He lightened his steps to match the silent steps of the women in front of him.
As the duchess reached the double doors first, she pushed them open for them to enter. The drawing room was filled with sunlight, and a welcoming, sweet floral scent drew him inside.
“Ah. You have returned.” Olivia, who was posted by a window, turned about to face them. “Lord Guernsey.”
“A good day to you, Miss Olivia.” He couldn’t help but flicker his gaze over to Lady Charlotte as he issued the greeting. He wasn’t one for such petty behavior, yet it appeared that the women before him evoked an assortment of ill manners.
Rather than garnering a frown from Lady Charlotte, she granted him a bright wide smile.
Women! They never behave as one would expect.
The sound of booted heels had Warren looking over his shoulder as the Duke of Avondale marched into the room.
Duke or not, the man had a commanding presence, and his gaze was unashamedly affixed upon his wife.
Such an obvious display of affection was uncommon, yet Warren felt a kinship with the Duke of Avondale, since Olivia had a similar effect on him.
The world might be going about as usual, but his sole focus was on the happiness of the woman who made the world disappear in her presence.
With his gaze never wavering, the Duke of Avondale stopped next to him. “Lord Guernsey, I hope you will excuse the intrusion; however, I need a word in private with my dear sister and my wife. Perhaps you could accompany Miss Olivia for a stroll about the gardens.”
Again, another demand. Do they order everyone about, or merely me?
Apart from his papa, no one had dared to order him about.
He glanced over at Olivia, who had stood as still as a statue the entire time as if she dared not draw attention to herself.
Some might have called it divine intervention, others a deal with the devil.
Either way, he’d be leaving with the woman he sought to court, and a stroll afforded him an opportunity to speak with her alone. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Miss Olivia?” the duke prompted when she remained frozen.
“Oh, yes, fresh air sounds lovely.” Olivia walked toward Warren, but her gaze appeared to be focused on something, or someone, behind him.
He refrained from looking to see what held her attention. Instead, he waited for Olivia to join him. With each step closing the distance between them, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. The slight pinkish tint to her cheeks hastened his pulse, which was tempered by her hesitant steps.
An arm’s length away, Olivia finally shifted her gaze to focus upon him. “Lord Guernsey.”
He offered her his arm as he turned to face the terrace doors. “Shall we?”
Lady Charlotte, who was hovering close by, said, “I beg of you to remain in sight, Lord Guernsey.”
Warren ignored the countess and led Olivia out into the gardens.
He sensed the tension mounting in her as they made their way across the room.
Did the thought of being alone with him evoke fear within her?
An unfamiliar tug at his heart led him to study Olivia more closely, hoping to understand his peculiar need to see her smile.
His gaze followed hers as she glanced at the footman posted at the door.
A jolt of familiarity hit him, and Warren’s gaze remained on the man’s features.
Unable to place where he had seen the footman before, he deduced it must have been during the ball the previous night.
Yet as he walked past the man, he was left with the strong impression that he and the footman had crossed paths many a time. But when? Where?
Olivia tugged on his sleeve. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“My apologies, Miss Olivia.” Banishing the footman from his mind, he smiled at his companion. “Shall we enjoy the gardens?”
“Let’s.” She left his side with a bounce in her step as if the fresh air had infused her with new life.
He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, and as he suspected, the footman who had caught his attention was watching them with an intensity that had Warren on edge. “Do you often visit the duke and duchess while you are in London?”
“No,” she answered as she stopped to admire the blooms. “Why do you ask?”
“The footman, the one by the door…”
“Are you referring to Ian?”