trembled, but she took the roses from Olivia and handed them to Randolph, whose eyes widened still further. But he did not take them. “Please,” she said. She tried to smile and failed. “If anything, I am the one who owes His Grace flowers or some other token of my gratitude for his rescue last night.”
Randolph said, “He wishes for you to have them, Miss Bolton. In fact, he specified the exact roses he wished for me to find—the most perfect, the most costly. He even said one dozen would not do. You cannot return them—he would be offended.”
“I cannot accept them.” She heard the uncertain tremor in her tone. She did not want to offend Clarewood; no woman in her right mind would.
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