Chapter 13

Thel leaned against the wall and watched Olivia seamlessly insert herself between two young men in the circle around Constance. In any other group, he would have expected at least a few ruffled feathers, but Olivia had a particular talent for blending in. He noticed the exact moment they switched from salivating over Olivia’s beauty to assuring her of their noble intentions toward Constance.

Her ability to change how they treated her with only a few comments and a shift in her posture was remarkable. He remembered how she’d thrashed in his arms. A completely different woman from the one standing stoically beside his daughter near the door to the retiring room. What they had done was beyond anything he had ever tried with Marguerite. The few times they’d had sex before she’d fallen ill had been in total darkness and had lasted only a few minutes.

Marguerite.

He tensed, waiting for the twisting of his gut that always accompanied thoughts of his late wife, but it didn’t come. His body felt light, as if a weight had slipped off his shoulders. It should have worried him, but he felt only relief that the wound Marguerite’s death had left was finally healing.

He made his way through the crowd until he reached Olivia’s side.

“How does she fare?” he whispered and he was pleased to see a flush creep up from her neck.

“Constance is distracted,” she said.

He turned his attention to his daughter. She lifted her chin and tilted her head from side to side, as if searching the crowd.

He did the same, even though he did not know who or what he was searching for, until he spotted a young man making his way toward them. Something about him was familiar, but it was not until he arrived at their group and bowed before Constance that he recognized the hazel eyes and slightly crooked nose of the boy who was one of Constance’s earliest friends.

“I-It can’t be,” Constance said, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here, Sammy?”

Olivia drew closer to whisper in his ear. “Who is that, and how does she know him?”

He tilted his head so he could speak with no one hearing.

“Mr. Samuel Ringwell. Her childhood friend.”

Olivia pressed close to him. “Would you be amenable to a match between them?”

Thel frowned at the grinning Samuel. The boy was high-spirited. He had once dared Constance to leap from the roof of the stable onto an enormous pile of pillows they had gathered while their nannies had been napping. He had only interrupted the foolish game by chance when he had returned home early from a spring festival in the village, sparing Constance from a broken leg, or worse.

He vaguely remembered the elder Mr. Ringwell had died in a boating accident. That meant young Sammy had some manner of wealth, although perhaps not enough to support a wife. Felix and Elijah might disapprove, but they would have difficulty finding fault in a boy they had known for years.

Olivia elbowed him in the ribs. “Well?”

“I could be persuaded,” he said.

“Excellent,” Olivia whispered. Then she casually inserted herself back into the conversation between Constance and Mr. Ringwell. In a matter of minutes, she had convinced Constance to join the next dance with her childhood friend.

When the music started, Thel took Olivia’s hand, and they followed Mr. Ringwell and Constance.

The group split into two lines. He hooked his elbow with Olivia’s and spun, kicking his heels in tune to the beat. Unlike Constance, Olivia did not allow her joy to show on her face. The small smile on her lips did not reflect in her eyes, and he caught her twisting her head around at the end of their final set. Only when they stopped and bowed to each other did he realize why.

Constance was no longer on the dance floor.

He searched for her golden head amid the sea of guests but could find neither her nor Mr. Ringwell. How had she vanished without him noticing?

Olivia clutched his arm without him offering it. “Do not make a fuss,” she said. “Stroll with me. She could not have gone far.”

He squeezed her hand and did as she suggested, walking fast enough that no one interrupted them, not meeting the gaze of anyone who glanced his way. To do so would be to invite discussion.

They had completed half a rotation of the room when he spotted Constance’s golden head out of the corner of his eye. She stood in a dark alcove next to a disheveled man in a silver-and-black-striped jacket.

“Wait,” Olivia said. “Let me talk to her first.”

He glanced at Olivia, then back to his daughter. Even from a distance, he could tell she was uncomfortable. Whatever was going on couldn’t be good.

Olivia squeezed his arm. “Trust me, Thel.”

“I’ll give you five minutes,” he said, even though he felt certain Constance needed rescue, not a lecture. “As long as he doesn’t put his hands on her.”

Nothing would stop him from strangling any man who dared assault his daughter.

“Thank you,” she said. Then she maneuvered through the crowd toward Constance, who was suddenly alone. He searched the room but could not find the man to whom she had been speaking. When Olivia reached Constance’s side, they tilted their heads together, and the tension in his shoulders eased.

Then a footman crossed his path, and when he could see Constance again, Olivia was not with her.

He shoved through the crowd as politely as he could and grasped his daughter’s shoulder. “Where did Olivia go?”

“ Lady Allen chased after the man who was talking to me. When he saw her, he ran.” She pouted. “He said he had a message, but he ran before he could give it to me.”

Thel suppressed the growl rising in his throat. “We will discuss this when we return home.” He placed Constance’s hand on his arm and kept his steps light, not wanting to attract attention, even as his instincts screamed at him that something was wrong.

They exited onto the terrace, and a chilly wind blew past, ruffling Constance’s curls. She gave a quiet shriek and slapped her hands to head.

He searched the grounds until he found Olivia near a pergola. She was struggling with the man who had been speaking to Constance.

He dropped his daughter’s hand and leaped down the steps three at a time, his vision focused on Olivia. He thrashed through the greenery and made it in time to find Olivia standing over a man sprawled on the ground on his stomach. The neckline of her bodice was askew, and her hair was in disarray, but otherwise, she was whole.

He itched to pull her into his arms and confirm with his hands that she had no injuries, but she was scowling and had her fists raised.

The prone man rose on his elbows. Olivia kicked him in the stomach, eliciting a moan.

“What happened?” He positioned between her and the prone man. If the bastard so much as twitched, Thel would be on him.

Olivia swept a hand along her disheveled hair. “I asked him what he wanted with Constance. He wouldn’t answer. I pressed him, and he attacked.”

“He attacked ? How did you—”

“I sought out training in how to defend myself after the late earl passed.” She gulped, then looked at her hands. “He wanted Constance, Thel. Not me. What if she had followed him?”

A wave of cold washed over him. That was not a scenario he wanted to envision. He had been out of society long enough that he’d forgotten how dangerous it was for young, unmarried women. He was too used to country balls, where everyone present had known each other since birth.

He folded Olivia into his arms. Both she and Constance were safe. For the moment.

The fallen man rolled onto his back with a groan. Thel nudged Olivia behind him and crouched down to get a better look at her attacker’s face. “What was your plan?”

The man curled his lip. “Don’t believe that lying chit. She led me out here, said she’d let me lift her skirts if I was quick about it.”

“Check his pockets,” Olivia said. “Constance said he had a message.”

Thel was already rooting through the man’s jacket. He found a ribbon-wrapped envelope and held it up. Olivia grabbed it and tore it open.

The man jackknifed his legs and swiped a gloved hand at her legs, but she neatly danced out of the way.

Thel put his hand on the man’s neck and thrust him against the ground. “That’s enough from you, unless you’d like to add a broken back to the list of your injuries.” He glanced at Olivia. “What is it?”

She slipped the envelope into her pocket. “A problem.”