how her father had said the word, it couldn’t be good. And it had to be worse than Eli Blaylock kissing her.
Embarrassed at her question, Harold put her arm on his and led her to the palm. “I ... I don’t know exactly. Except he looked as if he wanted to ... to kiss you,” he stammered, his face taking on a hint of scarlet.
Both of Olivia’s brows arched up. “Really?” she replied, perhaps with not enough alarm. With a bit too much delight, in fact.
“Olivia!” her father admonished her. “You can allow the man to kiss you when you’re both sure he’s about to ask for your hand in marriage,” he stated firmly.
Olivia regarded her father for a moment. “I understand,” she replied finally. After a moment, a hint of understanding shown on her face. “Did he try the same thing with Eloisa?” she asked suddenly.
Her father seemed to take a step back. “Not that I know of,” he replied with a shake of his head. “In fact, I rather doubt he would. He’s not ...” Harold stopped then, realizing what he was telling his sixteen-year-old daughter. “Just ... be mindful,” he finished and then patted the back of her gloved hand. “And it’s time for supper,” he added, leading them away from the potted palm. “With all this dancing, I find I am famished.”
Olivia allowed her father to escort her to the supper room, all the while wondering just what Michael Cunningham might have had in mind when he escorted her off the dance floor. And no matter what she imagined, she found she couldn’t be fearful of him.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
For if she was pressed to say how she felt about their recent house guest, Olivia would have to admit she had a crush on the man.
Instead of feeling mortified by her admission, Olivia allowed a grin. Oh, the joys of champagne!
Chapter 5
A Promise is Made on a Friday
One o’clock in the morning, April 27, 1810
“Now, you really must tell me what you think of Faith Seward,” his mother was insisting as she snapped shut her fan and regarded her son. She and Michael had just walked up to the coach-and-four and were about to get in for the trip to Iron Creek.
Michael regarded his mother with a rather stunned expression. She usually waited until they were actually in the coach before asking about the biddable ladies of the ton he might be considering for matrimony. And Faith Seward wasn’t even in attendance at the ball they were just now leaving. She was probably still in Bath, or maybe in London for the Season.
Why would his mother bring up Faith?
“She’s quite pretty, don’t you agree? And her father is an earl,” Violet said with a good deal of satisfaction. She didn’t add that the chit was barely out of the schoolroom and his best friend’s youngest sister. And her best friend’s daughter. “I’m not so sure about the Waterford girl, though,” she went on, not giving her son an opportunity to give his answer about Faith Seward. “She seemed ...”
“Which one?” Michael interrupted, wondering if his mother had seen him dancing with Olivia. If so, he had every intention of letting her know Olivia had done the right thing in informing him she wasn’t allowed to waltz. But the few moments he had spent with the chit simply reinforced his initial impressions of her. She was a delight to be around.
Violet raised an eyebrow before stepping up into the coach. “There’s more than one?”
Michael held his breath for a moment, enough time to thank the stars she hadn’t seen him dancing with Olivia. His mother had spent a good deal of the night in the card room.
“Well, only one out in Society,” he amended.
Spreading her skirts over the seat, Violet settled back into the squabs. “That one, then. She seemed ...” Her voice trailed off as if she was having a hard time describing Eloisa Waterford.
“Desperate?” Michael offered, thinking it was as good a word as any to describe Eloisa’s behavior that evening.
“She is a pretty
Embarrassed at her question, Harold put her arm on his and led her to the palm. “I ... I don’t know exactly. Except he looked as if he wanted to ... to kiss you,” he stammered, his face taking on a hint of scarlet.
Both of Olivia’s brows arched up. “Really?” she replied, perhaps with not enough alarm. With a bit too much delight, in fact.
“Olivia!” her father admonished her. “You can allow the man to kiss you when you’re both sure he’s about to ask for your hand in marriage,” he stated firmly.
Olivia regarded her father for a moment. “I understand,” she replied finally. After a moment, a hint of understanding shown on her face. “Did he try the same thing with Eloisa?” she asked suddenly.
Her father seemed to take a step back. “Not that I know of,” he replied with a shake of his head. “In fact, I rather doubt he would. He’s not ...” Harold stopped then, realizing what he was telling his sixteen-year-old daughter. “Just ... be mindful,” he finished and then patted the back of her gloved hand. “And it’s time for supper,” he added, leading them away from the potted palm. “With all this dancing, I find I am famished.”
Olivia allowed her father to escort her to the supper room, all the while wondering just what Michael Cunningham might have had in mind when he escorted her off the dance floor. And no matter what she imagined, she found she couldn’t be fearful of him.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
For if she was pressed to say how she felt about their recent house guest, Olivia would have to admit she had a crush on the man.
Instead of feeling mortified by her admission, Olivia allowed a grin. Oh, the joys of champagne!
Chapter 5
A Promise is Made on a Friday
One o’clock in the morning, April 27, 1810
“Now, you really must tell me what you think of Faith Seward,” his mother was insisting as she snapped shut her fan and regarded her son. She and Michael had just walked up to the coach-and-four and were about to get in for the trip to Iron Creek.
Michael regarded his mother with a rather stunned expression. She usually waited until they were actually in the coach before asking about the biddable ladies of the ton he might be considering for matrimony. And Faith Seward wasn’t even in attendance at the ball they were just now leaving. She was probably still in Bath, or maybe in London for the Season.
Why would his mother bring up Faith?
“She’s quite pretty, don’t you agree? And her father is an earl,” Violet said with a good deal of satisfaction. She didn’t add that the chit was barely out of the schoolroom and his best friend’s youngest sister. And her best friend’s daughter. “I’m not so sure about the Waterford girl, though,” she went on, not giving her son an opportunity to give his answer about Faith Seward. “She seemed ...”
“Which one?” Michael interrupted, wondering if his mother had seen him dancing with Olivia. If so, he had every intention of letting her know Olivia had done the right thing in informing him she wasn’t allowed to waltz. But the few moments he had spent with the chit simply reinforced his initial impressions of her. She was a delight to be around.
Violet raised an eyebrow before stepping up into the coach. “There’s more than one?”
Michael held his breath for a moment, enough time to thank the stars she hadn’t seen him dancing with Olivia. His mother had spent a good deal of the night in the card room.
“Well, only one out in Society,” he amended.
Spreading her skirts over the seat, Violet settled back into the squabs. “That one, then. She seemed ...” Her voice trailed off as if she was having a hard time describing Eloisa Waterford.
“Desperate?” Michael offered, thinking it was as good a word as any to describe Eloisa’s behavior that evening.
“She is a pretty
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