Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

O liver stayed hidden in the trees while Grace had made her way to the stables. He wanted to make sure that someone helped her before he completely abandoned her to her cousin. He knew that she would be able to heal and recover better at her cousin's house, so why was he feeling a loss?

He pulled on the reins and turned his horse around with a few clicks of his tongue. His horse stamped with excitement at the familiarity of the surrounding area. But he could not go home yet, though Oliver had been hours on the saddle, it had been at a slow pace. Both he and Poseidon needed a little more exercise.

They rode through a small clump of trees. Once they thinned and dispersed behind him, he gave Poseidon his head as they raced across the countryside making their way home to Cliffton Manor .

Instead of handing his horse over to the stable hands, he dismounted and led Poseidon into the stables, taking care of his horse's needs before finally exiting the stables. Having been without a stable hand at his hunting lodge, he wasn't ready to turn over the care of Poseidon just yet.

Remington, the butler, bowed to him. "Your Grace, it is good to have you home again."

He took in his surroundings. "It is always good to be home."

"Had we known you would be cutting your time at the hunting lodge short, the servants would have all turned out for you."

Oliver put a hand on the man's shoulders. Remington had known Oliver since he was a young boy. "It is quite alright, Remington. There is no need in this weather, and as you say, I've returned home early." Oliver momentarily glanced back the way he'd come, searching for the outline of his neighbor's house in the distance. It had never bothered him before that he couldn't always see the roof and chimneys through the trees.

"Dinner shall be served whenever you wish it." Remington took Oliver's hat and coat.

Oliver nodded. "As soon as it is convenient, I should like to see my steward."

Mrs. Dodds burst into the entryway, giving a hasty curtsy to Oliver, and then fussing over him like a mother hen. Though Oliver was the master of the house, Mrs. Dodds ran the details of the house with precision. After asking him about his trip, she said, "You look cold. I will prepare a tray for you to be served after your bath." Then she curtsied, as if the idea to bathe and change had been his idea instead of hers. Oliver smiled. Mrs. Dodds was a force to be reckoned with.

An hour later, Oliver met with his steward, Mr. Cordon, in his office. After being briefed on matters that required Oliver's attention, he changed the subject. "What were the details of the Christmas house party?" He drummed his fingers along his desk as if he was disinterested in the answer.

Mr. Cordon straightened in his chair, clearly not buying the act of nonchalance. "I thought you were away at the hunting lodge because you didn't want to be home during the Christmas house parties. Wasn't that your specific request?"

Oliver ran his hand through his slightly damp hair. Would Grace like this version of him? He rubbed at his clean-shaven jaw, still itchy. "I've changed my mind. I want to be there. Is it too late to accept the house party invitation?"

His steward looked shocked, as if Oliver had requested something unsavory. Then he cleared his throat. "Your Grace, you are a duke. You may do anything that you want." He looked like he would say more, but remained reserved. The effort looked like it pained him.

Oliver stood from his chair and paced the room. "I should like to attend," he said.

The steward nodded. "Very well. I am sure I can make the necessary arrangements."

Oliver stopped his pacing when he noticed Mr. Cordon's confused look. "What is it?"

His steward shifted uncomfortably. "It is nothing, Your Grace. I only wondered if there was a particular … that is to say, you are back earlier than planned. It is not like you to seek out social gatherings at this time of year." He paused, then pushed on. "Is there a particular event that you want to participate in?"

Oliver waved his hand in the air. Events didn't matter so much as the particular person that he wished to see, but he knew he couldn't admit that without alluding to what could be deemed a scandal. "No particular event," Oliver said.

Mr. Cordon nodded, his face a mask devoid of emotion, expertly hiding his true thoughts.

"Do you think it's a bad idea that I go to the house party?" Oliver asked his steward. Though in his employ, he valued Mr. Cordon's opinions, which was why he brought the matter to him in the first place.

"No, of course not. As I said, you may attend any function in society almost by rule, whether or not you have an invitation. I only wondered because it was so out of character for you. "

Oliver nodded in agreement. It was out of character. Completely out of character. How would Grace take the shock of it? Would she like the fact that he had, in a way, taken her up on the offer to join the house party? He paced again. Something felt off. As the duke, he would not have been afforded the same familiarity with Grace at the house party that the hunting lodge had provided.

There was a very strong chance that it wouldn't turn out well for him if he attended the house party invitation after declining it. Perhaps what he needed was to ease Grace into the idea of his true identity. He'd almost told her in the woods, right before he'd dropped her off. But somehow the moment of her falling for him while she only knew him as a man living in a rustic cottage had given him pause.

In that brief moment under the shelter of the snowy trees, she'd seemed to care more about dancing with Ollie than about meeting the duke. It was still a perplexing situation to be in.

"On second thought, perhaps I shouldn't go to the house party, after all."

"Of course, Your Grace. If pressed, I will explain your presence back at Cliffton Manor due to the business being resolved earlier than planned."

Oliver waved a hand in the air. Being in the woods had seemed urgent when avoiding social functions. And without that choice he never would have met Grace the way he did. And that would have been a shame. "I believe I will ride out again to the hunting lodge tomorrow," he said, forming the idea in his mind. He wanted to give the poetry book to Grace. "I won't be gone long, but I need to pick up something I left there."

"Very well," Mr. Cordon said. "I shall make the necessary arrangements."

"I will attend the Christmas Ball at the assembly room this year."

"Shall I send for something from your London house? Or order you a new waistcoat perhaps?"

"There is no need. I have enough to choose from here."

"Very good, Your Grace."