by Anna Bradley
Oliver smiled back at her. “No, a hunting dog. Well, he’s a pup now, but someday he’ll be a hunting dog.”
Her tentative smile blossomed into such a delighted grin if Oliver had had the pup in his hands just then, he would have given it to her, his brother be damned.
“What sort of dog is he?”
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” Oliver nodded toward the window. “We’re nearly in Dartford.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Dartford, England
Lord Archer’s new hunting dog was a springer spaniel with soft, floppy ears and a brown and white spotted nose. He gazed at Dinah with sorrowful blue eyes, his chin balanced on Oliver’s knee.
He was smaller than she’d thought he’d be—larger than a teapot, but much smaller than a sack of flour. Dinah eyed him from her corner of the coach. She didn’t know much about puppies, but this one seemed remarkably composed.
“He has blue eyes. I’ve never seen a springer spaniel with blue eyes.” They were a most unusual color—velvety lapis centers surrounded by a ring of cerulean. They were the prettiest blue eyes Dinah had ever seen.
“All springer pups have blue eyes. They’ll change as he gets older, much like a baby’s eyes do. He’s a fine pup, isn’t he?” Oliver chuckled as the puppy nipped at his fingers. “He’ll make a fit hunting dog for an earl.”
“He’s, ah…well, he’s quite small, isn’t he?” Dinah frowned at the pup. He stared back at her with a mournful expression, as if he were very put-upon, indeed. She couldn’t imagine why he should look so desolate, enthroned on Oliver’s lap as he was, with Oliver’s big, gentle hands stroking his head. “What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one yet. I thought I’d let my brother name him. I hope William approves of him.” Oliver had been looking down at the pup, crooning nonsense to it, but now he glanced up at Dinah, his own blue eyes bright with excitement.
Dinah swallowed. Perhaps the puppy’s eyes weren’t quite the prettiest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She watched the rhythmic movement of Oliver’s hands, the slow glide of his long fingers over the pup’s silky fur.
She might have watched for hours, mesmerized, if Oliver hadn’t startled her back to herself with his low chuckle. “He’s a little bit of a thing now, but he’ll grow, and make a capital bird dog. Will’s been going on about wanting a hunting dog for ages.”
“Don’t they have hunting dogs in London?” As soon as she said it Dinah frowned, annoyed with herself. Why was she was making such a fuss over Oliver’s fetching a few Christmas gifts for his family? It wasn’t as if he’d taken them that far out of their way. Dartford was only eight miles south of Plumstead.
“Not like this one. Lord Dunton’s gamekeeper, John Massie is known throughout England for his springers. His dogs are the best. Every gentleman in London wants one, but Dunton is notoriously possessive of them. He won’t part with his dogs for a king’s ransom.”
“If he’s so stingy, how did you get this one?”
Oliver’s eyes twinkled. “Won a king’s ransom from Dunton at whist one night at White’s. I offered to return his vowels in exchange for a pup. William’s going to be so pleased. Even in his fondest imaginings he wouldn’t dream he’d ever get one of Massie’s pups.”
Dinah tried not to let herself melt, but with those two pairs of lovely blue eyes gazing at her and the sweet smile on Oliver’s face, even her flinty heart shuddered on its foundations.
She’d resisted dozens of engaging smiles since she came to London four years ago. She’d sent a number of handsome, charming rogues on their way without a twinge of regret, but there was far more to Oliver Angel than a handsome face and a charming manner.
London might gossip all they liked about him. They might gasp over his antics and shake their heads over his sins. They might whisper behind their hands about his brawls and wagering, but when Dinah looked at Oliver, she didn’t see a Tainted Angel. She saw how truly kind he was, how deeply he loved.
That was the trouble, wasn’t it? That was why she kept fussing over the delays on their way to Cliff’s Edge. It was easy enough to avoid Oliver in London, but they’d been alone together in this coach for little more than a day, and already her heart was fraying at the edges. The longer the journey took, the worse it would become. She was in danger of forgetting he was her friend only—a man she was fond of, but not too fond.
Lie to me if you must, but don’t like to yourself.
“Miss Bishop? Are you ill? You’ve the strangest expression on your face.”
Oliver’s voice was unexpectedly gentle. To Dinah’s horror, tears pricked behind her eyes, and she rushed into speech to stop them from falling. “You’ve gone to some trouble arranging gifts for your family. Gifts you clearly intended to retrieve on your way from London to Cliff’s Edge. You never intended to remain in London for the holidays, did you, Oliver?”
He continued to stroke the puppy’s head, but his gaze held Dinah’s. “No. I would have delayed the journey for several days to give my injuries time to heal, but I would have gone to Cliff’s Edge sooner or later.”
Dinah let out a deep sigh. A part of her had hoped he’d lie about it so she could scold him. It was safer when she scolded. “You lied to me, then.”
“Yes.” Something flickered in his eyes. Not regret, but something else.
“Why?” Dinah tried to be outraged, but the familiar anger she’d grown to depend on refused to respond to her prodding.
He was quiet for so long she gave up on getting an answer, but then he muttered, “You wouldn’t have come with me otherwise.”
Yes, I would.
If Oliver had asked it of her, she would have come. A part of her wanted to say so, to blurt out the truth and feel relief overwhelm the tightness in her chest, but once she told it, there would be no taking it back. “We’ll never know now, will we?”
A slight smile drifted across Oliver’s lips, but he didn’t look happy when he murmured, “Is it really so awful to have to spend a few days with me, Dinah?”
His hushed voice, his use of her Christian name, the way his eyes darkened to a deep, midnight blue as he studied her caused a strange, fluttery sensation deep inside Dinah’s chest.
No. It isn’t awful. That’s the trouble.
But again, she wouldn’t say so. Instead she pasted a smile on her face and asked brightly, “This Christmas escapade of yours, Oliver. Where will it take us next?”
Dinah half-expected him to balk at the change in topic, but Oliver’s lips quirked in a grin. “Yes, about that. I prefer we call it a lark from now on, if you don’t mind.”
“A lark?” Dinah laughed. “Very well, if you wish, but I don’t see what the difference is.”
“You told me you don’t care for escapades, but there’s nothing you can object to in a lark. They’re playful, harmless bits of fun.”
“Very well, then. Where will this Christmas lark take us next?”
Oliver glanced down at the pup, who’d curled up in his lap and fallen asleep. “To Southfleet, to fetch Maddy’s gift.”
*****
He’d nearly told her the truth.
Oliver had vowed to wait until she was ready to hear it. He’d opened his mouth a dozen times since they left London to tell her everything, then closed it again without a word. For all his careful plans and promises to himself, it hadn’t taken more than her fleeting look of panic before he’d nearly told Dinah the truth.
He’d nearly said he loved her. That he’d loved her since her pistol ball had come within half an inch of striking his forehead. That it must have struck his heart instead, because he’d lost it to her that day. That when they’d returned to London, he’d followed his heart straight to the Pandemonium Playhouse, and never looked back. That he was full of love he wanted to give her, and he wanted her love in return. That by the time Twelfth Night had passed and the new year was upon them, he wanted her by his side, as his wife.
He might call it a lark, but there w
as nothing harmless about this courtship. There was every chance his heart would be in tatters by the time they reached Cliff’s Edge, and that was to say nothing of their friendship. If Dinah rejected his suit, she’d refuse to see him once they returned to London. If she felt as much for him as he suspected, they’d both be hurt by that.
This courtship would decide nothing less than their future happiness.
If he made of mess of it, he wouldn’t get another chance. He couldn’t tip his hand. Not yet. Not until Dinah was ready to hear him—
“This is lovely, Oliver. Maddy will be delighted with it.”
Oliver was still shaking at how close he’d come to blurting out the truth, but he jerked his attention back to Mr. Thurman, the jeweler, who’d laid Maddy’s locket out on a square of black velvet for Oliver’s inspection.
Dinah was bent over it, murmuring with appreciation. “Such dainty etching!” She traced a finger over the delicate vines and flowers carved into the face of the oval locket, sighing at the scattering of seed pearls embedded in the gold. “It’s not a new piece, is it?”
“No. It belonged to my grandmother. William and Penelope have been sorting through her jewelry. Penelope has set most of it aside for Maddy. I saw this piece, and thought I’d have it restored as a Christmas gift for her.”
Dinah arched a brow, but a smile hovered on her lips. “Naturally you couldn’t have turned it over to a London jeweler.”
“Certainly not, Miss Bishop. My grandfather commissioned this piece from Mr. Thurman’s father, you see, so naturally I couldn’t turn it over to anyone but him.” Oliver fumbled at the hinge and opened the locket to show Dinah the inside, where the same elegant scrollwork and seed pearls framed the tiny sheets of crystal. “The crystals slide out, so she might put a portrait or a lock of hair inside.”
“It’s perfect for Maddy.” Dinah didn’t touch it again, only gazed at it with a rapt expression before turning her attention to the glass cases lining the walls of the shop. She ambled down the row, pausing now and then to admire the jewels inside.
Oliver watched her, an ache in his chest. Sapphires would suit Dinah. Sapphires set in diamonds, to match her eyes—
“Will the locket do, my lord?”
“What? Oh, yes. As the lady said, it’s perfect for my sister. I’d be grateful if you’d wrap it for me, Mr. Thurman.” Oliver waved a distracted hand at the jeweler, then turned his attention back to Dinah. She’d stopped beside one of the cases. “What have you there?”
“What? Oh, it’s nothing.”
Dinah turned away from the case, but Oliver strode toward her and took her arm before she could scurry away. As soon as he glanced into the case, he knew which piece had caught her eye. “The sapphire necklace?”
“Yes. The blue is pretty.” Dinah gazed down at it for a moment longer before wandering off, but Oliver lingered, staring down at the necklace. It was simple but stunning, two perfect midnight blue stones set into a delicate gold filigree setting, surrounded by tiny diamonds. There were ear bobs, hair pins and a brooch to match it.
It might have been made for Dinah, with her fine, pale skin and dark blue eyes, but she’d never allow him to make a gift of it to her. Then again, if she did agree to become his wife, he might give it to her on the day of their betrothal.
It was better to be hopeful, surely?
If Mr. Thurman hadn’t reappeared just then, Oliver might not have done what he did. If he’d stopped for even a moment to consider the thing rationally, he might have hesitated, but gentlemen in love being what they were—rash, reckless creatures—he didn’t.
He waited until Dinah was on the other side of the shop, then he beckoned Mr. Thurman over, pointed silently to the sapphire parure, and nodded. Mr. Thurman, who knew the value of discretion opened the case, whisked out the jewels and disappeared into the back of the shop before Dinah turned around.
Ten minutes later Oliver escorted Dinah back to the carriage, Maddy’s locket and Dinah’s sapphires tucked safely into his greatcoat pocket. “All right, Grim? Ferris?” He handed Dinah into the carriage, tucked a few rugs around her to ward off the cold, then retrieved the pup from Grim.
“He’s a proper little gentleman, this one.” Grim held the pup up high to admire him, then handed him down to Oliver.
Ferris nodded his agreement. “Did his business, then snuggled up to Mr. Grimsley here and dropped off to sleep like a wee angel, he did. It’s his fancy breeding what makes him so agreeable, I reckon. Good bloodlines, like.”
“He’ll make a proper hunter for Lord Archer.” Oliver climbed into the coach, settled the pup on his chest and wrapped them both up in his greatcoat for warmth. When the pup fell asleep again at once, Oliver was inclined to agree with Ferris’s reflections on superior canine breeding.
That is, until he was awakened from a nap by the sound of cloth tearing and discovered even a puppy with excellent bloodlines could cause quite a bit of damage when he was left unsupervised. “What the devil? What are you about?”
The pup had taken a sudden and intense interest in the lining of Oliver’s greatcoat, which shouldn’t have been terribly surprising, since Oliver had tucked a few of the savories Massie had given him into his pocket. Canine boredom and the tantalizing scent of treats had led to naughty behavior utterly unworthy of a pup with such elevated breeding.
“Why, you little imp.” Oliver tugged the wriggling, squirming devil from the folds of his coat. “What have you got there?” he demanded, snatching at a corner of soggy cloth the pup had clamped between his teeth. “My pocket!” The pup had torn his greatcoat pocket clean off and was now attempting to eat it.
“No! Bad dog.” Oliver tried to wrestle the bit of silk away from him, afraid he’d swallow it, but the puppy, a hunter down to his superior bloodlines held on, thrashing his head from side to side and letting loose with small, puppy-like growls that would have been adorable under any other circumstances.
“What in the world?” Dinah struggled upright on her seat, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing to that puppy, Oliver?”
“Me? He’s destroyed my greatcoat. It’s lucky I woke, or he would have bitten a hole right through me!”
Dinah made a sound suspiciously like a choked laugh and reached down to pick up something from the floor. “Here, you’ve nearly lost Maddy’s locket. What’s this? Did you buy something else?”
Oh, no. Oliver abruptly abandoned the battle over his pocket. “I…it wasn’t…I didn’t…”
But he had, and the truth was about to erupt in all its messy, inconvenient, and inevitably destructive glory.
Dinah’s face drained of color when she lifted the lid off the case and saw the glittering sapphires laying in their bed of pale gray velvet. “Oliver?”
“I…they’re for you.” Oliver swallowed. “I knew you wouldn’t like…I didn’t think you’d accept…I want you to have them.”
“You can’t have bought them for me.” Dinah closed the lid of the case with a snap. “You can’t think I’d ever accept jewels from you, unless…” She jerked her head up, her stricken gaze meeting his. “Unless you think to make me your—”
“Wife,” Oliver blurted.
“Mistress,” Dinah said at the same time.
They stared at each other in disbelief.
“Not my mistress, Dinah,” Oliver whispered, when the silence between them grew unbearable. “I want you to be my wife.”
CHAPTER SIX
Somewhere between Southfleet and Rochester
Lord Oliver’s coach
“Your wife!” Dinah’s piercing cry echoed throughout the coach.
Oliver grabbed the strap as the horses’ startled lurch nearly bounced him off his seat. “You really must stop doing that. If we had a hired coachman at the reins instead of Ferris, we’d be in the ditch by now.”
Dinah knew she should be mortified at shrieking like a madwoman, but she was so overwhelmed with shock there was no room left for mortification. His wife. Dear God. “Fa
shionable aristocratic gentlemen don’t take actresses for their wives, Oliver.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “You do recall my brother’s an earl, don’t you? An earl who plucked an actress straight from the Pandemonium Playhouse’s stage, married her, and made her mistress of Cliff’s Edge?”
“I…well, yes, but…” Dinah fumbled for a reply, but what could she say? She’d never seen a married couple more devoted to each other than Lord Archer and Penelope. Indeed, they seemed to have been made for each other.
But Dinah wasn’t like Penelope. It had been inevitable Dinah would end up on the London stage, or worse, the London streets. That had never been true for Penelope, who was nothing like the jaded women who earned their bread on the stage, or on their backs. Penelope was lovely and gracious and refined. Her father had been a vicar, and at heart Penelope had always been a clergyman’s daughter. The stage hadn’t changed her, yet Penelope’s marriage to Lord Archer had still been a scandal, despite her claims to gentility. A tragedy, even, according to the ton.
Fashionable London would swoon with horror if Oliver followed in his brother’s appalling footsteps. There’d be no end to the scandal and gossip when the ton discovered Dinah’s own father had been a wastrel who’d abandoned his wife and daughter, and her mother…well, the less said about her mother, the better.
She didn’t care for what the ton thought of her, but Oliver would become a laughingstock if she became his wife. His aristocratic friends would ridicule and then abandon him, and he’d come to regret marrying her.
Oh, but this was terrible. She’d known for weeks Oliver was nursing a mild tendre for her, but it had never occurred to her he wanted to make her his wife. His mistress, yes, but then he’d taken up with Lady Serena, and Dinah had thought—
Lady Serena. Dinah seized on her like a lifeline. “You can’t marry me. You have a mistress.” It was an absurd argument, of course. One couldn’t stir a step in London without stumbling over some married aristocrat’s mistress.