Secrets of an Accidental Duchess (6 page)

Tea was served, and Max sat back and enjoyed the scorching, bitter taste of his. The sisters all took generous lumps of sugar for their tea, and Lady Fenwicke took sugar and cream in hers, but Max noticed that after she’d prepared it to her liking, she placed it beside her and didn’t touch it.

The ladies discussed their plans for autumn and winter, briefly skimmed the topic of their past in the West Indies, and told Lady Fenwicke about their absent sister, Phoebe, who Max had met last evening. For her part, Lady Fenwicke hardly spoke but asked the sisters questions and offered them more tea and cakes. A proper hostess. Still, something in Max panged for her. She just seemed so damned unhappy.

Jessica dabbed her napkin to her lips. “That almond cake was simply delicious, Lady Fenwicke! I’ll have to tell my sister’s cook to ask for the recipe from yours.”

“Thank you, but I must confess that I made the cakes myself.” Sucking in a breath at her blunder—a lady of her status should never admit to doing something as common as cooking!—she looked down at her lap.

There was a short silence, then Lady Stratford said in a kindly voice, “Oh how lovely. You are a talented cook. I do hope you’ll give my cook the recipe.”

Olivia took her first bite of the cake and added her
appreciation, and Max ate his cake in silence. He liked these three sisters. It was heartwarming how they attempted to make their hostess comfortable.

“Do you like to cook, then, my lady?” Jessica asked. “Is it a hobby of yours?”

He also liked how forthright they were.

“I do,” Lady Fenwicke said quietly. “I like it very much. It is… it is a great solace to me.”

“I understand completely,” Olivia said. “Going for long walks is my solace.”

“Reading is mine,” Lady Stratford added.

“And mine is dancing. Oh, how I love to dance,” said Jessica, beaming. “Our sister Phoebe does, too. We used to dance together for hours and hours in our parlor back in Antigua before she came to England last year.” She turned to Max. “What’s your solace, my lord?”

That took him aback. His solace? Solace hadn’t been a concept he’d considered for years. Perhaps ever. “Well. I can’t think of anything.”

“It must be hunting,” Jessica said. “Since you’re here to hunt with my brother-in-law and Captain Langley.”

“No, that can’t be it.” A mischievous grin lit Olivia’s features. “Lord Hasley has confided to me that he’s a poor hunter.”

“Perhaps horses, then,” the countess said. “Many men take solace from their animals. I know Jonathan does, at times.”

“No,” Olivia said, sliding a glance at him. “Not horses, either. Don’t you remember? Lord Hasley told us this morning that he wasn’t the horse connoisseur that Captain Langley and the earl are,” Olivia said.

“Ah, that’s right.” Lady Stratford gave Olivia an
appraising look, then set her teacup down. “Thank you so much for the tea and the lovely cakes, my lady. I didn’t mean to march in like this today, but I’ve very much wanted to meet you.”

“Me too,” Jessica said, “and I’m so glad we came.”

“I’m very glad you came, too,” Lady Fenwicke said. “It’s so nice to meet new neighbors.”

“We must go, though,” the countess said. “My husband will be wondering what has happened to us.”

“But he won’t worry.” Jessica shot Max a saucy grin. “He knows Lord Hasley is here to protect us.”

Lady Stratford rolled her eyes heavenward. “In the event of a dragon attack as we walk through the fearsome Sussex countryside, I daresay.”

Max bowed his head. “At your service, ladies.”

They all laughed, even Lady Fenwicke. Her lovely, tinkling laughter seemed to shock everyone else into silence again.

“Really, Sussex is so quiet, I do believe we’d have to conjure a dragon in order to find the need to be protected,” Lady Stratford said.

“There are dangers in Sussex,” Lady Fenwicke said quietly. “Just not where one might expect.”

Everyone stared at Lady Fenwicke until the countess broke the silence. “Oh, I do hope you’re wrong. I’ve found it to be very safe indeed, though I admit to not having lived here for very long.”

Max glanced again at Olivia. The line between her brows had deepened, and he suppressed the urge to smooth it out with his fingertip.

Lady Stratford rose. Max stood instantly, and the two other sisters and Lady Fenwicke rose as well. Jessica
invited the lady over for tea in a few days’ time, and she accepted with a smile.

They left, turning from the gravel drive onto the wagon path. Max had a sinking feeling that the unexpected dangers Lady Fenwicke spoke of had to do with her husband. He hoped to hell he was wrong.

It wasn’t until they turned the bend that hid the elegant house from view that any of them spoke. It was Jessica.

“I’m going to be a good friend to her,” the youngest sister said solemnly. “I think she needs one.”

Max nodded. He couldn’t agree more.

I
t was an unseasonably warm day, and Olivia had sat through the afternoon on the gallery bench, tucked beneath her parasol to protect her complexion from the sun. She was watching the others play—or attempt to play—tennis on the ancient court that had originally been erected on the grounds almost three hundred years ago in honor of Henry VIII’s visit to Stratford House.

The court was long and narrow with high walls but no roof. One wall had partially crumbled and the uneven floor was not conducive to balls bouncing properly, but Jonathan planned to eventually fix both. In the interim he still enjoyed playing, and he had purchased a new net as well as racquets and balls soon after he’d arrived in Sussex this spring.

Phoebe and Jessica were trying their best, but they’d never played tennis—it wasn’t a sport they’d ever seen in Antigua, and their lack of skill combined with the cracked floor and the crumbling wall made the game more about
laughing, running, and fetching balls than actually hitting them over the net.

Jonathan and Captain Langley were fairly good, their skills obvious compared to the entirely lacking ones in her sisters, especially Captain Langley’s. And Max… well, he seemed far too large to make any sense of the court and the ball, though he said he’d played on occasion when he was at Cambridge.

Olivia would have liked to try it, but she knew her sisters and Jonathan would object, and if they did grudgingly allow her to play, they’d be overly solicitous and embarrass her. She didn’t want that kind of attention—not in the presence of their guests.

She’d long ago come to terms with the fact that her family would always believe that she would fall ill whenever she exerted herself physically. But that didn’t mean she had to agree with them. Once, when she was fourteen and in a particularly rebellious temperament, she had experimented in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep. She’d gone outside and run and run around the plantation. She must have run for an hour without stopping. It had felt so good. By the time she finished, sweat had caked her chemise to her body. And, not surprisingly—to her, at least—she’d felt wonderful the following day, and she hadn’t come down with a fever.

She’d experimented in later years, too, though less overtly. She was fully convinced that exertion wasn’t what caused the fevers, yet despite her protestations, her family didn’t believe her. They were all convinced that if Olivia exercised, it might kill her.

Jonathan served. The ball hit the service penthouse and dropped into the gallery. Max tried to return the
serve, but he hit the ball straight into the net. He dropped the racquet at his side, shaking his head, a hopeless expression on his face.

“Game and set!” Jonathan said in triumph.

“Yes, yes. Thanks ever so much for the reminder,” Max said dryly. They ambled to the table the servants had erected beside the gallery bench, and each of them took a glass of cool lemonade.

Olivia smiled up at the two men. “That was a wonderful game.”

Max snorted. “Once upon a time, I was semiskilled at this game. Now I look like quite the idiot lumbering around out here.”

“On the contrary,” Olivia said.
You looked marvelous.
And he had. He was, simply, a pleasure to watch, losing at tennis or at any other time, for that matter. He smiled back at her… and her skin prickled all over.

In the past few days she’d often felt Max’s eyes moving over her like a warm caress, and when she looked at him, he’d smile faintly but he wouldn’t look away. He’d just keep gazing at her with such heat in his expression she could feel it from across a room.

Jonathan gestured toward the house. “Did everyone else go inside?”

“Yes,” Olivia said. “They were bored of watching you pummel Lord Hasley.”

Max groaned, and Jonathan laughed. “I’d best join them. How about you two? Shouldn’t you get out of the sun, Olivia? Max, want to go in?”

“No thanks,” Olivia said. “I’d like to enjoy the sun for a few more minutes, and then perhaps I will take a walk.”

“I’ll stay outside for a while, too,” Max said. “I’ll come in after I cool down.”

Jonathan said good-bye, gave Max a hard look of warning that Olivia found endearing, and trudged off toward the house.

“You needn’t stay out here with me, you know,” she said.

He sat on the narrow bench beside her, stretching out his long legs in front of him. After a few seconds gazing at the way the fabric of his trousers clung to his muscled thighs, Olivia averted her eyes from the disturbingly appealing view.

“I want to stay with you,” he said simply. “Besides, I thought you might like to have an opponent.”

“An… opponent?”

He raised the racquet he still held. “Yes. A tennis opponent.”

She felt a slow smile curve her lips.

He went to retrieve the racquet Jonathan had abandoned and then returned to her. “Come. I’ll teach you.”

She smiled up at him. “How did you know I wanted to play?”

His green eyes twinkled. “I saw the way you watched us—you looked positively envious.”

She rose, folded her parasol and left it on the bench, then walked out onto the court.

“Here. Hold it like this.” He sidled close to her, demonstrating how to grip the racquet. She tried to concentrate, but the warm masculinity of the entire length of his body against her side made her feel rather… wild. Swallowing hard, she focused on gripping the racquet exactly like he showed her.

He led her to the hazard side of the court. “Now… all you’ve got to do is hit the ball after I’ve sent it to your side. You just return it to me, either by sending it over the net or by hitting it off one of the walls.”

“Right.”

It had looked simple enough, despite the fact that Jessica and Phoebe had missed nine out of ten balls sent their way. Especially Jessica, who’d been laughing so hard at herself that by the end, tears were rolling down her cheeks and she’d declared she was hopeless and she’d never play any sport in a less friendly crowd.

The only person who hadn’t been laughing was Captain Langley, but Olivia hadn’t seen him laugh in the four days since the gentlemen had arrived. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t kind—he was a lovely man. He just wasn’t the sort of man disposed to laughter, she supposed.

Max took the entire bucket full of balls and moved to the service end of the court.

Olivia smirked. “I see you don’t have much confidence that I’ll be hitting any of the balls you send my way.”

“None at all,” he said genially. When she laughed, he gently hit the first ball.

Anticipating where the ball would bounce, Olivia positioned herself quickly and pulled her arm back as she’d seen Captain Langley and Jonathan do, and she whacked the racquet through the air.

And missed. She spun around and watched the ball bounce wildly off the wall behind her.

She turned back to Max. “Again, please.”

He repeated his motion, and she missed again. “Swing earlier,” he advised.

She nodded, pursing her lips together in concentration.
He hit the ball to her, she swung, and pop! The ball went sailing over the net. And over Max’s head, over the crumbling wall, and somewhere into the bushes beyond the court.

“Excellent!” he cried. She returned his statement with a pained look.

They went through the remaining balls in similar fashion. She managed to return a few of them directly to him so that he was able to hit them back. By the end, they’d actually engaged in at least one short rally of five hits, and she felt flushed and happy.

He gave her an enthusiastic grin as she knelt down to retrieve the ball that had landed closest to her. “You’re very good.”

“You’re too kind.” She laughed. “I’m quite awful.”

He walked around to her side of the court, retrieving balls along the way. “No, really. Considering the fact that you’ve never played, I think you’re quite good. Some practice, and you’ll be a worthy opponent for someone like Langley.”

“Not you?” she asked.

“No, you’ll be far better than me.”

“Perhaps we should practice together then,” she said. “Because heaven knows, my sisters will have a fit if they knew I was running about out here.” She glanced in the direction of the house, glad that Jessica, Serena, or Phoebe hadn’t come to fetch her. Jonathan must have told them she’d gone for a walk.

“Why wouldn’t they approve of you running about?” Max asked.

For a brief moment she went still, considering telling him about her malaria. She knew from vast experience, however, how people tended to react to that information.
Most drew away from her, as if they feared she’d pass the disease to them. Or as if they feared she’d drop dead at their feet at any moment.

The truth was, while she’d never be cured, she had the disease under control. Quinine, though it was expensive and had sometimes been difficult for them to obtain, cured her whenever the fevers came. Even though Mother had often hardly been able to afford their next meal, she had always made certain quinine was available to Olivia. And despite all her difficulties with her mother, that had been enough to prove to Olivia that she did love her deeply.

Olivia wanted to enjoy this autumn, and she wanted to have this time to pretend that she was a normal woman, just for a little while. Most of all, she didn’t want Max fearful that she’d collapse when they played tennis together—and she wanted very badly to play with him again. So she simply shrugged. “My sisters are protective of me.”