Page 47 of A Relentless Rake

Agnes was right, of course. Alec had flirted with her only for information about her brother. She should have been grateful that she wouldn’t have to fend off the devil’s attentions again, and certainly not since he’d learned she could provide no more information. That had surely deflated whatever interest he’d taken in her.

Yet she felt oddly out of sorts at being confronted by it like this.

“They pose no challenge to him, you see,” Agnes continued, sharing much more about Alec than she should have. “And so they’re no threat.” The older woman paused and watched closely as Olivia took a sip from her cup. “Unlike you.”

Olivia choked on her tea, and only partially from the woman’s unexpected comment. Coughing to clear her throat, she stared into her cup. Good Lord, was thatwhiskey?

She looked up at Lady Agnes, and a mischievous gleam lit the older woman’s eyes. She patted Olivia’s arm. “Just stay fixed to your nature, my dear, and you’ll have no worries about my nephew.”

When Lady Agnes turned away to call for a footman to bring an extra plate of cakes to the table, Elizabeth slyly exchanged teacups with Olivia.

“Auntie’s as mad as a hatter,” Elizabeth confided. “But she’s our hatter, and we love her dearly. Best to watch your tea around her, though, or you’ll find yourself foxed to the gills.” Elizabeth slowly pushed away the teacup and gestured for the footman to bring her a new one. “She’s right about Alec, however. You’re not at all his sort.”

Olivia was glad to hear it, yet his sister’s far-too-happy smile corkscrewed unease through her, right down to her toes. “Your brother’s an earl. I would never dare to presume something like that.”

Elizabeth looked away and mumbled, “That’s a pity.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“I said youneedn’t worry,” Elizabeth said more loudly, then shifted back so the footman could set down the fresh cup of tea and its saucer. “Alec is actually a very good man.”

Olivia bit her bottom lip. She wasn’t at all convinced ofthat.

Twelve

To Olivia’s chagrin, Alec didn’t leave.

Not when the footmen finished serving tea and Mrs. Peterson competed with Lady Gantry for his attention. Nor did he leave when the footmen cleared away the tea carts and a woman began to pluck at a harp on the corner of the terrace. Not even when Lady St James finally stood and invited everyone to stroll at their leisure through her beautiful gardens and enjoy the flowers.

No, Alec remained through it all, looking grim and uncomfortable, especially whenever Olivia caught him avoiding eye contact with Mrs. Peterson and Lady Gantry…and looking at her.

“Would you like to see Aunt Agnes’s roses?” Elizabeth linked her arm with Olivia’s and led her down the terrace steps into the garden. “They were a gift from the Duke of Wellington for her support during the war.”

They strolled along the path and away from the other guests until the harp music faded on the air. Olivia asked, “How exactly did your aunt support Wellington?”

“No one really knows, and Auntie refuses to discuss it. But gossip says it had to do with the dragoons and either leather or bayonets.” Her nose scrunched up as she leaned over and sniffed a pink blossom. “Possibly both. Wellington did send an awful lot of roses. All red.” She paused thoughtfully as she reached to touch the blossom. “Leather and bayonets… You know, I’m beginning to think there might very well be a hidden meaning behind that gossip.”

Olivia glanced away and pressed her hand to her lips.

Chatting on about the gardens, Lady Elizabeth led her farther down the path until they reached the brick wall at the far end of the property where a massive bower supported the weight of more climbing roses than Olivia had ever seen in her life. Framed by two weeping willows on either end and supported by wooden arches underneath, the roses entwined so thickly that they touched the ground and created a hidden space beneath, their fragrant and wild blossoms framing the narrow entrance. Inside, where the sunlight couldn’t quite reach, dappled shadows cooled a small stone bench.

“My,” Olivia murmured, stunned at the sight. “There must have been a lot of bayonets.”

Elizabeth frowned. “And undoubtedly lots of leather.”

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek and silently nodded.

“This way.” Elizabeth led her beneath the bower.

As Olivia slipped under the towering bushes, she felt as if she were entering a fairyland. She half expected at any moment to see gnomes and pixies playing among the rose petals.

“Lady Elizabeth?” a footman called from the path outside the bower.

She cocked her head. “Yes?”

“You’re wanted at the house, Miss.”

“Coming!” Elizabeth gestured toward the bench and instructed Olivia, “Wait here and enjoy the flowers. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”