The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [31]
“No, it’s me,” came a cheerful voice. Bright sunshine spilled onto the coverlet as the bed curtains were whipped aside to reveal Georgiana.
Olivia gave a little groan. “What time is it?”
“After eleven. You slept through breakfast, but you must accompany me to luncheon. The duke will be there.”
Olivia yawned and pushed herself up against the carved headboard. “Lord knows I wouldn’t want to miss the chance of being patronized again.” Though, in truth, ducal condescension wasn’t foremost in her mind when she thought of His Grace. She was not an early riser, but she would make an exception tomorrow and go down to breakfast if she thought . . .
Of course, the duke wouldn’t kiss her again, and she most certainly would never allow it. He was likely temporarily maddened by lust—there she was, practically naked. Still, one had to think that he liked what he saw.
That thought made Olivia feel a glow of happiness. She always felt fat, but he hadn’t seemed to notice. He didn’t look at her as if she could stand to lose three stone—or even just one.
“Oh, Olivia!” Georgiana said, pulling back the curtains all the way to the foot of the bed and then sitting with a little bounce at her sister’s feet. “Isn’t this the most wonderful party?”
“Don’t sit on Lucy!” Olivia cried.
Georgiana poked at the little ball she now saw under the covers. “You allow that dog to sleep in your bed? I’ve heard of canines sleeping on the bed, and that struck me as quite unhealthy. I’m sure this is even more insalubrious.”
Olivia shrugged. “Rupert told me that’s where she likes to sleep, and sure enough, she burrowed down there directly last night. She’s something of a toe warmer, if I need one.”
“Did you even hear what I said? Isn’t he wonderful?” Georgiana demanded. She had been sitting in her customary prim fashion, hands clasped in her lap and ankles neatly crossed, but now she pulled up her knees and sat sideways on the bed. Her face broke into a beaming smile. “He’s . . . he’s everything I dreamed of.”
“He is?” Olivia felt as if her mind were wading through treacle.
“Tall, and so handsome,” Georgiana said. “And intelligent, Olivia! A proper mathematician—which is not at all the same thing as an accountant.” A faint frown creased her brow. “You really must try to be more polite. What if he takes a dislike to you and we’re asked to leave? I’ll never meet anyone like him again.”
“I won’t,” Olivia said automatically. “I mean, I will. I’ll fawn on him as much as he could wish.” Of course Georgiana loved Sconce. He was a perfect match for her: he had rank, bearing, and intelligence. And Georgiana was so exquisite, far more beautiful than Olivia.
“I just never thought,” Georgiana said dreamily. “I never truly believed there was anyone for me. And all the time, here he was. He’s so distinguished, and brilliant, and”—she giggled suddenly—“he looked wonderful drenched in rain yesterday.”
Olivia nodded. That was true enough.
Georgiana’s mouth curled in a naughty smile that Olivia had never, ever, seen on her sister’s face. “This is terrible of me, Olivia, but did you look closely at him when he came out of the rain?”
“No,” Olivia said, mendaciously.
“He—his breeches were wet and—oh Olivia, I think I have an idea why Juliet Fallesbury called her footman Longfellow!”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?” Olivia said, laughing. “Did you hit your head last night, Georgie? Are you feeling yourself?”
“I’m absolutely fine and actually, I feel happier than I have in years. The only thing that’s worrying me is you.”
“Me?” Olivia frowned at her. “I wasn’t so impolite to Sconce. I merely teased him. I honestly don’t think he gave it a second thought.” Thank goodness her sister had no knowledge of that kiss.
“No, no, you and Rupert! I actually couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking about how wonderful the duke is, and the way he smiled at me—he didn’t look bored once, Olivia, not once