TuesdayNights by Linda Rae Sande Read Free Book Online Page B

too happy with the thought that her son might remain a bachelor for several more years, Violet realized she might have to broach the subject of marriage with him later that night. If Harold Waterford thought for one moment that she would agree to his suggestion that Michael remain unattached, then he was mistaken. “Forgive me, Mr. Waterford, but I do believe it’s almost time for supper. If you’ll excuse me?” she wondered as she stepped back.
    “Of course, my lady,” Harold replied, bowing to her curtsy.
    Harold watched as the viscountess made her way toward the ladies’ salon, wondering if he had offended her with his suggestion that Michael should be remain unattached during their business dealings. Reminded of the young man’s behavior with his daughter, he headed in her direction.
    Moving through the crowd to the continuing strains of the waltz, Olivia was nearly to the palm plant when her father suddenly stepped in front of her.
    “I take it you’re behaving?” he asked as he slipped his arm under hers. They continued walking in a different direction, apparently in an attempt to circumnavigate the room.
    “I am,” Olivia replied with a straight face. “Are you?” she countered, her sudden grin causing a dimple to appear in her cheek. “I saw you with a woman on your arm,” she accused in a delighted whisper. “And she wasn’t your wife.”
    Harold Waterford regarded his daughter with an amused look. “Your mother is not complaining,” he answered with a cocked eyebrow. Despite his having combed the white, bushy brows, one always seemed a bit out of control, giving the man the means to look sinister if he so desired.
    Despite her attempt to maintain a straight face, Olivia giggled. “I should hope not,” she said sotto voce .
    The glass of champagne was lifted from her hand. “And that will be quite enough bubbles for you, young lady,” he said as he downed the rest of the glass in one gulp. The glass seemed to disappear from his grasp as he took one of her hands in his and placed his other at her waist. Much like she had with Michael, Olivia found herself dancing the waltz, although she had to concentrate a bit more. Her father wasn’t nearly as strong a lead as Michael had been.
    “I’m sure it was you who said I was not allowed to dance the waltz,” she said, finding it hard to keep a straight face.
    “Did I, now?” Harold replied, glancing to his right to be sure their path was clear. “I suppose you’re going to deny it was you doing just that with Mr. Cunningham only moments ago?”
    Olivia considered how to answer. “Well, it was me, but once I informed Mr. Cunningham that I wasn’t allowed to dance the waltz, he stopped dancing with me,” she explained, failing at suppressing a smile.
    Oh, the joys of champagne!
    “By the way, I’m not allowed to dance the waltz,” she added, allowing a brilliant grin to appear.
    Harold had to work hard to hide his amusement. “Livvy, my darling, you be careful,” he said in a much more serious tone. “He’s a young man. He’s not yet interested in marriage, and probably won’t be for several years. Which means that whatever he was about to do with you behind that potted palm might have been your ruination.”
    Ruination?
    Sobering quickly, Olivia nearly stumbled upon hearing her father’s words. She managed to recover by doing a double-step to keep up, but her expression was more serious than it had been the day before in the yard of the inn.
    The music ended, leaving the two of them right back near the potted palm. Olivia glanced in its direction. “What do you think he was he about to do?” she wondered, one eyebrow arched up in alarm.
    Nothing in Michael’s demeanor had suggested he had anything untoward in mind when he escorted her off the dance floor. Or when he offered her another glass of champagne. Was the man really a rake? Was it his intention to ... to ruin her? Olivia wasn’t even quite sure what that meant, but from