“Well, yes,” he said, with an offhanded wave, “or at least I was moderately certain. I don’t often pay attention to those things, and, as you know, my bedroom faces the other direction.”
Harry felt a smile creeping along his lips. This could only get better.
Winston turned to Harry and said, for no apparent reason other than to torture his sister, “Olivia’s room faces the south.”
“Does it now?”
Olivia looked as if she might-
“It does,” Winston confirmed, putting a halt to Harry’s speculation on what Lady Olivia might or might not do. But he was thinking that spontaneous combustion was not outside the realm of possibility.
“You’ve probably seen her window,” Winston went on. “You really couldn’t miss it. It’s-”
Harry actually stepped back an inch or two. It looked as if there might be violence. And despite Winston’s greater height and weight, he rather thought he’d put his money on his sister.
“I am sure Sir Harry is not interested in a floor plan of our home,” Olivia bit off.
Winston stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I wasn’t thinking of a floor plan so much as an elevation.”
Harry turned back to Olivia. He was not sure he had ever seen such well-controlled fury. It was impressive.
“It’s so nice to see you this morning, Winston,” Miss Cadogan put in, quite possibly oblivious to the familial tension. “Are you often out and about this early?”
“No,” he replied. “Mother sent me to fetch Olivia.”
Miss Cadogan smiled brightly and returned her attention to Harry. “Then it seems you are the only regular morning visitor here in the park. I, too, came looking for Olivia. We haven’t had a chance to chat for ages. She has been ill, you know.”
“I did not know,” Harry said. “I hope you are feeling better.”
“Winston was also ill,” Olivia said. She offered a frightening smile. “Much sicker than I.”
“Oh, no!” Miss Cadogan gushed. “I am so sorry to hear that.” She turned to Winston with great concern. “Had I known, I would have brought you a tincture.”
“I shall be sure to inform you next time he falls ill,” Olivia told her. She turned to Harry, lowered her voice, and said, “It happens more often that we would like. It’s very distressing.” And then, down to a whisper: “He was born that way.”
Miss Cadogan rose to her feet, all of her attention on Winston. “Are you feeling better now? I must say, you look a bit peaked.”
Harry thought he looked the picture of health.
“I’m fine,” Winston bit off, his ire clearly directed at his sister, who was still sitting on the bench, looking extremely satisfied with her recent accomplishments.
Miss Cadogan looked past him to Olivia, who was shaking her head, mouthing, “
“I will definitely bring you that tincture,” Miss Cadogan said. “It tastes a bit foul, but our housekeeper swears by it.
“It’s really not necessary,” Winston protested.
“I was planning to return soon, anyway,” Miss Cadogan put in, proving that young Bevelstoke was no match for the combined might of two determined women. “You may escort me.”
“Do inform Mother that I shall be back momentarily,” Olivia said sweetly.
Her brother glared at her, but he had clearly been outmaneuvered, and so he took Miss Cadogan’s arm and led her away.
“Well played, Lady Olivia,” Harry said admiringly, once the others were out of earshot.
She gave him a bored look. “You are not the only gentleman I find irritating.”
There was no way he could ignore a comment like that, so he sat beside her, plopping right down into the spot recently vacated by Miss Cadogan. “Anything interesting?” he asked, motioning toward her newspaper.
“I would not know,” she replied. “I am besieged by interruptions.”
He chuckled. “My cue to apologize, I am sure, but I shan’t indulge you.”
Her lips pressed together, presumably pinching back a retort.
He sat back, crossing his right ankle over his left knee, letting his lazy pose signal that he was settling in beside her. “After all,” he mused, “it is not as if I am invading your privacy. We are sitting on a bench in Hyde Park. Open air, public place, et cetera, et cetera.”
He paused, giving her the chance to comment. She did not. So he continued on with: “If you’d wanted privacy, you might have taken your newspaper to your bedchamber, or perhaps to your office. Those are places, would you not agree, where one might operate under the assumption of privacy?”
Again he waited. Again, she refused to engage. So he lowered his voice to a murmur and asked, “Do you have an office, Lady Olivia?”
He did not think she would answer, as she was staring straight ahead, quite determinedly not looking at him, but much to his surprise, she ground out, “I do not.”
He admired her for that, but not enough to change tack. “Pity, that,” he murmured. “I find it most beneficial to have a place that is my own that is not used for sleeping. You should consider an office, Lady Olivia, if you wish for a place to read your newspaper away from the prying eyes of others.”
She turned to him with an impressively indifferent expression. “You’re sitting on my maid’s embroidery.”
“My apologies.” He looked down, pulled the fabric out from beneath him-he was barely on the hem, but he decided to be magnanimous and decline to comment-and set it aside. “Where
She waved her hand in an unspecific direction. “She went off to join Mary’s maid. I’m sure she will return at any moment.”
He had no response to that, so instead he said, “You and your brother have an interesting relationship.”
She shrugged, clearly trying to be rid of him.
“Mine detests me.”
That caught her interest. She turned, smiled too sweetly, and said, “I would like to meet him.”
“I’m sure you would,” he replied. “He is not often in my office, but when he gets up at a reasonable hour, he breakfasts in the small dining room. The windows are just two past my office toward the front of the house. You might try looking for him there.”
She gave him a hard look. He smiled blandly in return.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He motioned to his mount. “Out for a ride.”
“No, why
He thought about that for a moment. “You vex me.”
Her lips pursed. “Well,” she said, somewhat briskly. “I suppose that’s only fair.”
The sentiment was rather sporting of her, even if the tone was not. She had, after all, just minutes earlier said that she found him irritating.
Her maid arrived then. Harry heard her before he saw her, stomping over the damp grass with great irritation, traces of a Cockney accent evident in her voice.
“Why does that woman seem to think I should learn French? She’s the one in England, I say. Oh.” She paused, looking at Harry with some surprise. When she continued, her voice and accent were considerably more cultured. “I am sorry, my lady. I did not realize you had company.”
“He was just leaving,” Lady Olivia said, all sweetness and light. She turned to him with a smile so dazzlingly sunny he finally understood all those broken hearts he kept hearing about. “Thank you so much for your company, Sir Harry,” she said.
His breath caught, and it occurred to him that she was an exceedingly good liar. If he hadn’t just spent the past ten minutes with the lady he was now referring to in his head as “Surly Girl,” he might have fallen in love with her himself.
“As you indicated, Lady Olivia,” he said quietly, “I was just leaving.”
And so he did, with every intention of never seeing her again.
