gone.” He smiled as he gently removed his sister’s hand from his sleeve.
Olivia’s delicate brow lifted. “Her flirtations are only a ruse to make you jealous. She’s mad about you. I overheard her say that she hopes you’ll announce your engagement to her before the party ends next weekend.”
Dalton frowned. “I’ve never invited the idea, my dear. It’s our mother who encourages her, not me.”
Olivia nodded. “That may be true, but I think Elizabeth needs very little encouragement, Dalton. The only heart she wants is yours, dear brother. I’d be very careful, if I were you.”
“Don’t worry, Olivia. I have no wish to marry Elizabeth or anyone.”
She tilted her fair-haired head to one side. “I so wish you’d find a woman who will make you happy,” Olivia continued. “You deserve the pleasures that a wonderful marriage can offer.”
He smiled at the romantic young woman of whom he was so proud. “Little sister, I hope life never rears its ugly head and disappoints you.”
She scowled at him. “You’re much too young to be so cynical, Dalton.”
Dalton’s only answer was an enigmatic smile. “Excuse me, dear Olivia, but I must see what the butler wants.”
Ignoring Olivia’s look of frustration, he turned and waded through the sea of guests. Maybe when he returned, the overdue Lady Alicia will have arrived.
Raised voices greeted Dalton before he reached the main hall. At the front entrance, Jarvis, the butler, towered over the slightly built young woman in front of him. On second glance, Dalton recognized Alicia with her hair pulled severely beneath a low-brimmed bonnet. Although she wore a traveling cape over her gown, he could imagine her shapely feminine charms hidden by the loose-fitting garment. The servant turned at the sound of Dalton’s footsteps.
“Er, your grace. This lady refuses to give her name, and she refuses to speak to anyone but you.”
Dalton smiled at the plainly dressed young woman before him. “Quite all right, Jarvis.” To the young woman scowling up at him, he said, “Welcome to Havencrest, Lady Alicia. I’ve been expecting you.”
The butler’s face paled when he realized the duke actually was acquainted with the lady. “I—I’m sorry, your grace, I—I—”
“I’ll take care of the matter, Jarvis.” Dalton led her from the hall and out the front door. “Come this way, Lady Alicia.” He signaled a groom standing outside. “Bring my curricle around. I’ll drive it myself.” The groom dashed off along the sheltered path leading to the carriage house.
While they waited, Dalton glanced at Alicia, wanting to see her expression, but she turned away, her face in shadow. “I’ll show you to your quarters, myself,” he said.
He saw her steal a look at him beneath her floppy hat brim. “I asked that I not be quartered in the manor house.”
Dalton peered down at her. “Your lodging is separate from the manor. In fact, the cottage is so far away that I’ve requested my carriage, my lady.” He was relieved to see her relax slightly. Damn, she was the most peculiar thing. But if she was willing to help Bashshar, he shouldn’t care if she wanted to bed down with the cattle.
The young groom arrived with the handsome black curricle pulled by a sprightly set of grays. The groom handed her up to the front seat while Dalton took the reins. Within minutes, the carriage clattered down the well-trimmed path along the gardens, past the numerous outbuildings, over a stone bridge and through a grove of trees. On the other side, the sheltered path curved toward a small cottage surrounded by trees and hedges.
Alicia stared at the thatched-roof bungalow. Dalton watched her brown eyes widen; her full lips formed an O of surprise before she masked her feelings. “Is this where I am…?”
He felt relieved at her pleased reaction. “I hope you find the quarters suitable, my lady. If not—”
“I’m certain the cottage will be most suitable.”
Dalton didn’t know what benefit she’d gain from sleeping away from the manor house, and he really didn’t care. “If you change your mind—”
“I’m here to be with Bashshar. He’s all that interests me at Havencrest. I had already instructed the groomsman to bring my trunks to my quarters.”
“Then if there’s nothing else you require…?”
“No, your grace.” Alicia covered her mouth with her dainty hand and as if on cue, yawned. “It’s been a frightfully long journey. I’m quite tired.”
Dalton turned to walk away, then paused. “Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, I’ll introduce you to Bashshar.”
“Why not now?”
“Because it’s late, and I don’t want the horse overly excited.”
“Good evening.” She bobbed a short curtsey and strode toward the cottage.
Dalton hid his smile as she dismissed herself without his permission. “Good evening, my lady.” No doubt the lady knew such behavior in front of a duke was considered a faux pas. Dash! He had hoped her distaste for him might have mellowed.
Dalton climbed into the curricle and headed back toward the manor. By now, maybe Olivia had learned something about this perplexing female.
Before he drove the carriage over the bridge, he gave in to the impulse to sneak a glance at her. She was standing at the cottage door, watching him.
Dalton smiled. Damn, she was an odd thing. And he couldn’t help wonder, again, what caused her to take such an instant dislike to him.
Alicia watched the elegant carriage pause before slipping out of sight. Aye, Wexton was as polite and charming as Lucifer—and just as handsome. In his elegant evening attire, he was all that and more. She nibbled her lower lip. Although she had risked his anger, he had not only tolerated her wishes, but appeared challenged by them. She took that as a victory. He’d met her demands, and built a fetching little cottage. The whitewash was still damp in places, and she’d wager that the roof thatch was so fresh it would shine like spun gold in tomorrow’s sunlight.
She hesitated before opening the door. How she’d hoped that the fluttery feelings in her stomach, when she was near Wexton, would have faded by now. How strange she felt when he stared at her with his penetrating blue eyes.
In the darkness, the sound of horses’ soft nickering from the nearby stables provided her with a familiar comfort. A wave of curiosity rose as she yearned to investigate Wexton’s prize-winning stock. Far and wide, men spoke of the duke’s horses, which were among the most splendid in England. She should wait until morning when the animals wouldn’t be so unsettled by a stranger in their midst. But her insatiable curiosity wouldn’t permit her to wait one more minute. The building was so huge, surely if she looked around for only a few minutes, no harm could come from that.
A short while later after she had settled in, Alicia slid the livery door open. She gasped, unable to believe her eyes. Walls of white alabaster marble rose to meet frescoed ceilings where every few yards lanterns flickered from ornate grillwork. White-graveled aisles led to the individual horses’
