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afraid?’

      ‘Quite, that was my feeling,’ Henry agreed with her. ‘I was wondering if perhaps…physically…’ He stopped speaking and walked on in silence.

      ‘Granted Adam is very tall, and Olivia very tiny…’ Decima began, still thinking about how Olivia might feel, confronting such a large specimen of masculinity, especially when he was not in a particularly conciliatory mood. Then her imagination caught up with her and she found herself wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to lose her virginity to Adam Grantham.

      Alarming, she decided. She found herself blushing from head to toe. Surely Henry wasn’t referring to that aspect of marriage?

      Tentatively she ventured, ‘If you mean that she might be afraid of the, er…marriage bed, I am sure Olivia is too innocent to be worried about that.’

      ‘Of course she is,’ Henry said vehemently. ‘I’m not making much sense, am I?’ he added, sounding wretched.

      ‘If I didn’t know any better,’ Decima ventured, ‘I would say you were jealous.’

      She expected him to deny it. Instead he swung round to face her. ‘I am. I am in love with Olivia.’

      ‘But…but you hardly know her! Henry, you cannot be, surely?’

      ‘She is the other half of me,’ he said vehemently. ‘I looked into her eyes and there it was. When I held her in my arms, danced with her, then I knew.’

      ‘What does she feel?’ Decima found it difficult to form the sentence, she felt so breathless.

      ‘I cannot be certain—trust me, I said nothing, of course—but I am sure she felt an affinity, a liking.’

      ‘Henry, you cannot pay court to her,’ Decima protested.

      ‘I know it.’ He took a vehement stride away, then spun round to face her. ‘Unless she breaks off the engagement to Weston, my hands are tied. To do anything else would be dishonourable.’

      ‘What a coil,’ she said miserably. ‘I love him, you love her—and whatever it is they feel, I cannot believe it is a love match between them. What are we going to do?’

      ‘Do you want to go back to Norfolk, Decima?’

      ‘We cannot. We must stay and support your mama and Caro.’

      ‘You could go.’

      ‘I am not running away. And in any case…’ she tucked her arm affectionately through his again and began to walk on ‘…I am not leaving you to be miserable. After all, who else is there for you to talk to about this?’

      They walked in silence for perhaps twenty minutes, then turned back towards Green Street. ‘We must avoid them both,’ Henry said resolutely as they approached his front door. ‘Heaven knows, there’s society and diversions enough in town without us needing to run up against two people.’

      ‘Absolutely,’ Decima agreed. A carriage passed them and drew up at the steps. ‘I wonder who that is?’

      ‘The frustration of a sensible resolution,’ Henry replied grimly as the footman opened the door and set down the step for Olivia Channing to alight.

       Chapter Seventeen

      ‘Miss Ross, Sir Henry, good morning.’ Olivia regarded them shyly from under the brim of an enchanting blue bonnet. ‘I am glad I found you at home, I was a little worried this was a trifle early to call.’

      ‘Allow me.’ Henry ushered her up the front steps and was rewarded by a sweet smile and a blush. Decima cast her eyes skywards and followed. ‘May I offer you refreshment, Miss Channing? I am not sure where my mother and sister are…’

      The butler emerged from the shadows to relieve the ladies of their outer garments. ‘Her ladyship and Miss Caroline have gone shopping, Sir Henry. They have taken the barouche.’

      ‘It was Miss Ross I came to see,’ Olivia confided, allowing herself to be seated in the salon. ‘It is just that Mama and I had tickets for a private view at the Wolverton Gallery—some newly arrived studies from the artist’s tour of the continent, you understand—and now Mama has to take Cousin Jane to the dentist. She has an abscess.’

      ‘Very painful,’ Decima murmured, wondering just why this concerned them.

      ‘Very. And Cousin Jane—she is Mama’s companion, you see—is frightened of dentists, despite Mama telling her that all it requires is a little resolution on her part. So Mama is going with her, to stiffen her resolution.’

      ‘Indeed?’ Decima felt she would rather face a dozen dentists alone than have Mrs Channing as supporter.

      ‘So I wondered if you would like to come to the showing this afternoon,’ Olivia finished, finally coming to the point.

      ‘Would you not rather go with Lord Weston?’ Decima enquired, carefully turning back the cuffs of her gown, which had become slightly crumpled.

      ‘I did think he might enjoy it, but I have three cards, and I remembered you were interested in art, Miss Ross.’

      ‘That’s very thoughtful of you, to recall that after so many years. And, please, will you not call me Decima? I would enjoy seeing the show, but I am certain Lord Weston would wish to accompany you.’

      ‘He says he cannot come today. Then, when I said I was going to ask you, he suggested that I also ask Sir Henry, as he said he would feel happier if I had a gentleman with me, rather than just a footman. He said you were rather a high stickler, Miss…Decima, I mean, and would no doubt feel more comfortable as well.

      ‘And as soon as he suggested it, I recalled what you had said last night, Sir Henry, about having enjoyed the Grand Tour, so…’ She came to a halt, rather out of breath with shyness. Decima thought she had never heard Olivia say so many words together before.

      But what on earth was Adam thinking about? Obviously he had not the slightest suspicion that Henry might entertain warm feelings for his fiancée. Perhaps he was worried about Olivia being alone with her in case she let something slip about their snowbound adventure, or perhaps his motives were exactly as Olivia had described them. And what the wretch was doing describing her as a high stickler she could not imagine, unless he thought that would reach Mrs Channing’s ears and stop her fussing.

      But, of course, after what Henry had just said, he would refuse. It was the only prudent thing to do.

      ‘How thoughtful of you, Miss Channing. I would be delighted. What time would you like to set out?’ Decima was too far away to kick him on the ankle, so instead she opened wide eyes at him. He smiled back ruefully as if to say, What can I do?

      Invent an appointment, you idiot, she thought, wondering if she should remind him that he had promised to escort his mother that afternoon or invent some other fib, but it was too late, Henry and Olivia were happily making arrangements for them to collect her at two thirty that afternoon.

      All Olivia’s qualms about an early visit appeared to have vanished as she chatted with Henry. Decima sat, willing her to go so that she could tell him exactly what she thought of his uncharacteristic lack of resolution, but all she could do was to sit there and provide the chaperonage she was certain Mrs Channing would be expecting.

      Finally Olivia left. ‘Henry Freshford! What do you think you are—’

      ‘A letter for you, Miss Ross.’ It was Starling, the butler, proffering her a silver salver.

      ‘Thank you. No, Henry.’ He was leaving in the butler’s wake. ‘Don’t you dare sneak away until I have rung a peel over your head for this!’

      ‘Who is the letter from?’ Henry appeared uneasy. As well he might, she fumed.

      ‘Charlton. Oh dear, I do hope nothing is wrong with

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