The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [79]
“You can do whatever you wish,” Olivia said, feverish heat racing over her body. “One of us sacrificed on the ducal altar is enough.”
Georgiana broke into a merry peal of laughter that made two gentlemen turn and look. “If you’re sacrificing yourself, then we should all be so lucky.”
Olivia felt her cheeks heating up. “I know . . .”
Her sister put a fleeting finger on her cheek. “You deserve it after all the kindnesses you’ve shown Rupert. We can find him a wife, you know. Not Althea, but someone with understanding and kindness.”
“And enough intelligence to run the estate,” Olivia said. “Do you really think . . .”
Georgiana grinned and then glanced to the side. “Dear me, it looks as if the duke is dancing with Annabel Trevelyan. Now she would love to become his duchess.”
Olivia spun; heard her sister’s chuckle; saw Quin leaning against the wall staring moodily at the dancers.
“He remains where he can see you,” Georgiana said into her ear. “And if you walked through the room and into the library . . . he would follow.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Olivia said, her heart in her throat.
“Is this the bravest woman I know?” Georgiana scoffed. “The woman who entered Father’s study with Rupert, knowing that the next few hours would include the most unpleasant experience any woman could endure? You have courage, Olivia. Use it.”
Olivia took a deep breath. At that moment, Quin turned his head. Georgiana was right: he was checking to see where she was.
He loved her. Or rather, to put it his way, he cared about her.
Rather blindly, she walked deeper into the room, trailed by the sound of Georgiana’s laughter. At just the right moment she looked at Quin and let an invitation speak through her eyes.
He straightened instantly and his eyes flared in response. So she moved on, weaving through the room, pausing to respond to greetings, extracting herself as soon as she could, declining to dance. It was like a game, the most thrilling game she had ever played.
Quin was surely behind her, following her. She would have wagered her life that he couldn’t resist the look she’d given him. Power was intoxicating . . . it sang in her blood, made her knees unsteady.
At the other end of the ballroom she went straight to the door that led into the library, opened it, and walked through.
The room was quiet, empty except for a footman. The duchess did not believe that her guests should be given the opportunity for dalliance, and to that end, posted servants in each room.
Olivia nodded to him. “Roberts. Are you having a quiet night?”
The footman relaxed his rigid pose, recognizing her. “Three couples so far,” he said, a grin splitting his face.
“Let me guess . . . the betting-book is in play?”
“For each room,” he said. “Tuppence a room. I wagered five couples would try for this one.”
The door behind her opened quietly. She didn’t have to turn; the air changed when he was near.
“Roberts,” Quin said. His deep voice sent shivers down her spine. “Her Grace doubtless has some use of you in the back of the house.”
Roberts was too well trained to show even a flicker of curiosity. He bowed and left as quietly as Quin had entered.
Only then did Olivia turn.
He was magnificent: wide shoulders, appearing even larger in a dark blue superfine coat that brought out the green of his eyes.
The look in those eyes had her retreating a step. “Quin!” she squeaked, breathless, silly, like a girl of thirteen.
“You summoned me,” he said, direct as always. “And here I am, Olivia. I hope you meant it, because I think I shall never be able to resist you.”
She couldn’t think what to say. He was so beautiful . . . lean and powerful and muscled. Even his hair was extraordinary.
Whereas she was plump and ordinary.
He closed the space between them in one stride. Having him so close just made the contrast between them even more obvious. This was impossible. He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips, sending another shiver down Olivia’s spine.