Dinah’s vision blurred and she squeezed her eyes closed.
Those hours she’d spent with Oliver in London— all those nights he’d come to the Pandemonium to watch her perform, then waited out in the mews afterwards to take her home. All that time, he’d been looking out for her. He’d been teaching her what it meant to take care of someone, to love them.
All the times he’d made her smile, made her laugh, given her joy…
He’d been showing her how much he loved her, and what had she done for him in return? She’d taken everything he offered in her greedy hands without understanding what it was, or having the vaguest idea how to give it back to him.
How many times had she looked into his eyes and disregarded his love and ignored how much sweeter her life had become since she’d found him, all while telling herself she was the one taking care of him?
She was in love with him. Perhaps she had been all along, ever since that dark night a year ago when she’d fired a pistol at him and he’d dragged her from her carriage to prevent her from taking another shot.
Oliver believed love could overcome any obstacle, turn coldness into warmth and darkness into light, but Dinah knew better. She’d freeze his warmth, swallow his light. He couldn’t see that yet, but years from now, when Oliver had a family like Alistair Rutherford’s—a family he could be proud of—he’d look back on this mad journey from London to Essex and be grateful it had come to nothing.
Dinah tucked the pineapple into the crook of her elbow and let her mind drift, as it had time and again today, to the delirious kisses she’d shared with Oliver in the greenhouse this morning. The touch of his lips to hers, the gentle, almost reverent glide of his fingertips over her skin, his soft words in her ears…
You’re safe here, Dinah. Safe with me.
She was. She’d always been safe with Oliver.
The trouble was, Oliver wasn’t safe with her.
The puppy whined as she squirmed against the cushion. She cupped one hand around his warm, round belly, her other arm still wrapped around the pineapple. “Hush, now. It’s all right.”
She didn’t intend to fall asleep, but she did, and dreamed of Oliver’s lips against hers, his husky whisper in her ear.
I love you, and I believe you love me, Dinah—
“Dinah!”
The shout penetrated the haze of sleep, and Dinah startled awake. The pup was racing in excited circles at her feet, it’s stubby tail waving madly, having abandoned her lap for a much more amusing pursuit.
“Oh, no.” She’d dropped the pineapple in her sleep, and now it was rolling about on the floor of the coach, with the puppy leaping gamely after it. She reached down and snatched it up, but the spikey green leaves were covered with the puppy’s teeth marks, and it was heavier than it had been, now more ice than fruit.
“Dinah!” The coach door flew open.
Dinah blinked at the light. They were in the circular drive at Cliff’s Edge, and Penelope was peering into the coach, a blinding smile on her face. “How I’ve missed you!”
“Miss Bishop. We’re so glad you decided to join us for Christmas. Lady Archer has hardly been able to contain her excitement.” Lord Archer stepped forward and reached for Dinah’s hand, but before he could take it the puppy darted toward the open door and tumbled onto the drive at Penelope’s feet.
Lord Archer reached down and plucked him up. “Who’s this handsome fellow? Fine pup, Oliver. Where did you get him?”
“Lord Dunton.” Oliver stepped forward, took Dinah’s cold hand in his warm one and helped her from the coach. “He’s one of Massie’s.”
Lord Archer’s eyes widened. “How did you manage that? Wait, never mind,” he added with a chuckle, before Oliver could answer. “It’s probably best if I don’t know. Fine animal, or he will be, once he grows a little. He’ll be a capital hunter. All of Massie’s dogs are.” Lord Archer stroked the puppy’s head, his tone wistful.
Oliver was gazing at Dinah, his brow creased in an anxious from, but he offered his brother a distracted smile. “I’m glad you approve, Will, because he’s yours.”
Lord Archer’s mouth fell open. “Mine?”
“He’s your Christmas gift. You did say you wanted a hunter, didn’t you?”
“I did. I do. I never dreamed I’d get one of Massie’s dogs, though.” Lord Archer grinned, delighted. “He’s perfect. Thank you, Oliver.”
Oliver didn’t seem to hear his brother. “Are you quite all right, Din—that is, Miss Bishop? You look pale.”
“Never mind Miss Bishop, Oliver.” Penelope rose to her tiptoes to kiss Oliver’s cheek, then made a shooing gesture. “You may leave her to me. I’ll take good care of her.”
Oliver didn’t move, his gaze still locked on Dinah’s face. Penelope shot her husband a look, and Lord Archer slapped Oliver on the back. “Come on, then. Let’s see if the pup will chase a stick.”
“Better make it a twig,” Oliver grumbled. He cast one last anxious look at Dinah, but allowed himself to be led away.
“Thank goodness they’re gone. You look as if you could use some tea. Here, let me take that.” Penelope nodded at Dinah’s hands.
Dinah blinked down at herself. She hadn’t realized she was still clutching the pineapple. Penelope drew it away from her, then slid her arm through Dinah’s and led her to the house. When they reached the drawing room, she placed the pineapple carefully on the tea table, and led Dinah to a seat beside the fire.
Dinah allowed herself to be seated, but she only nodded in response to Penelope’s cheerful chatter. She was afraid if she spoke, she’d burst into tears.
Penelope didn’t seem to notice. “Christopher and Maddy are out riding, but they’re both anxious to see you. Maddy has a suitor—did I tell you? I thought Christopher might have settled on Miss Everard, but he’s such a dreadful flirt it’s difficult to tell. There’s to be a supper tomorrow evening with dancing afterward, so you’ll have to help me determine if—”
“I won’t be here tomorrow evening. I’m returning to London in the morning.”
Penelope returned the teapot to the tray with exaggerated precision. “Oh? May I ask why?”
“I, er…I need to get back to the Pandemonium. You know how Silas is. He’ll have a fit if I’m not back on stage soon.” It wasn’t the real reason, of course, but it was plausible enough.
Penelope lifted her tea cup to her lips and took a dainty sip. “Silas isn’t the reason you want to leave. Try again.”
“He’s…I…I don’t know what you want me to…will Miss Spence be at the supper tomorrow evening?” Dinah snapped her mouth closed, horrified. Why, why, why had she brought up Miss Spence? If she could have snatched the words out of the air, she would have.
Penelope was no fool. She’d realize at once Oliver was the reason Dinah was fleeing Cliff’s Edge, and she’d never cease teasing until she had the whole story.
But Penelope’s next words shocked her. “No. There isn’t any Miss Spence. I invented her.”
Dinah stared. “Invented her?” No, that couldn’t be true. She must have misheard—