The Complete Regency Surrender Collection. Louise Allen

her attention. When she turned, Janvier rounded the corner dressed in fashionably tailored, black eveningwear.

      She forced herself to smile at the sight of her friend. If being in his company would improve her mood, even the slightest bit, then coming to see him tonight was the right decision.

      Although he appeared happy to see her, there was a brief flash of apprehension in his eyes. Showing up on a man’s doorstep alone would probably warrant that reaction.

      ‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ he said.

      ‘Good evening, Janvier. Forgive me for calling, but it was imperative I see you.’ Thankfully her voice did not expose her strained emotions.

      ‘Of course, I hope you are well?’ he asked with concern.

      ‘I am, thank you.’

      He turned to his butler. ‘You may leave now. I will see to Her Grace.’

      The man nodded before stepping around a few trunks and heading down the hall, the sound of his footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

      ‘May I take that for you?’ he asked, gesturing to her cloak.

      She allowed him to slide it from her shoulders. ‘It’s starting to rain,’ she said, looking to break the awkwardness of the situation.

      ‘Never a pleasant thing, however it is all too common here in England. I would offer you tea, however I suspect you would prefer a glass of claret.’

      She took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. ‘Thank you, I would like that.’ Accepting his arm, she accompanied him to a well-appointed drawing room, styled in the fashionable Grecian manner.

      The clouds outside had obscured the waning sun, leaving only the light from the fireplace and a single candelabra to cast moving shadows in the room. Walking to a table near the window, Janvier lit five additional candles. In the darkened window glass, his reflection gave away an expression of serious concern. Was it possible he was unhappy with her calling on him? She wasn’t certain she could manage another rejection today.

      However, when he turned to face her, his expression changed into one of welcoming interest. She shook off the foolish uneasiness and let her gaze wander from the gilt-framed landscape paintings to the marble statues resting on pedestals. If only it wasn’t in poor taste to ignore him and explore his artwork.

      Then she spied a rather large royal-blue Sèvres porcelain urn painted in the Empire style atop a Sèvres bisque pedestal. It was a stunning piece of craftsmanship and she wished she had time to study the intricate bucolic scene painted on it.

      ‘That is lovely,’ she commented, stepping towards it.

      Janvier approached her. ‘Thank you, it is a recent acquisition. Please, won’t you have a seat?’ he asked, gesturing to the sofa near the fire.

      The gold-brocade cushions were well stuffed and she made certain to leave room next to her so that when he sat down their thighs wouldn’t touch. She was being foolish. He would not try to kiss her again. She had made her feelings for him quite clear. This man was her friend. Her emotions were frayed more than she had thought to make her uneasy around Janvier.

      Olivia looked into his chocolate-brown eyes that were keenly focused on her and forced herself to smile. ‘I hope I have not arrived at an inconvenient time?’

      ‘You have not. However, I must confess your arrival is a surprise. Did I misunderstand? I thought we were to meet at the theatre instead of arriving together.’

      ‘That was our arrangement.’ She rubbed her brow. ‘Forgive me. It has been a trying day.’

      He cocked his head to the side. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps your mood will improve tonight. I have been awaiting this evening for a long time.’

      Olivia accepted the glass of claret from Janvier as he took a seat beside her. While he sipped his wine, he watched her over the rim of the crystal.

      ‘It is an excellent vintage,’ he commented, nodding towards the glass in her hand.

      ‘I would expect no less from you.’

      ‘Since you will not tell me what is troubling you, perhaps that wine will help return your smile.’

      ‘Forgive me, I did not come here to dampen your evening with my mood,’ she said apologetically.

      ‘Having you in my home could never put me in an ill mood.’ His grin only enhanced his handsome face.

      She wished she could have unburdened herself. Being able to voice her disappointment in herself and her husband might help her straighten out the emotions that were an enormous jumble inside her head and heart. But she would not confide her secrets to someone simply because the timing was convenient.

      ‘The wine will help,’ he said, as he leaned back.

      He was right. Wine would help. Only she knew she would need the entire bottle and perhaps another one as well. She brought the glass to her lips, then remembered she would need a clear head to be firm in her resolve to move out of her London residence when she returned home, so she lowered the glass to her thigh. ‘This room is lovely,’ she said, changing the subject.

      ‘So this is how it is to be. I am excellent at keeping secrets. Should you choose to confide in me, I will be willing to listen.’

      ‘I appreciate that, Janvier, I do. However, I think it best if we do not discuss it.’

      ‘If you have not come to confide in me, what does bring you to my door? Not that I am unhappy you are here, but you can understand why I am curious.’

      ‘I’m sorry to say I will not be able to attend the theatre this evening.’

      An unreadable expression crossed his face before he took another slow sip of wine. ‘I will not lie and say I am not disappointed.’

      ‘I am disappointed as well and I was hoping to introduce you to the Prince Regent, but circumstances are preventing me from attending.’

      He sat up straight, no longer appearing the epitome of relaxed elegance. ‘Has His Grace forbidden you from being seen with me?’

      ‘No, that isn’t it.’

      ‘Then help me to understand. He does not like you spending time with me. I have seen it colour his expression when we are together.’

      She shifted uncomfortably at his prodding and looked down at her glass. ‘You’re wrong. His Grace is not a jealous man. Of that, I can assure you.’

      ‘You are mistaken. He is a man not accustomed to having what is his taken away.’

      This discussion was pouring salt into her open wound. She needed to change the subject. She remembered seeing trunks in the entrance hall when she arrived. ‘Are you leaving London?’

      ‘I will be returning to Paris for a time to visit friends. Are you certain I cannot persuade you to change your mind about this evening?’

      ‘I am certain, however I have no wish to deprive you of such wonderful entertainment.’ Reaching into her reticule, Olivia pulled out two tokens for her box at the theatre. She held them out to Janvier. When he went to take them, she snatched her hand back.

      ‘I have one condition. You must tell me about the performance when next we see one another.’

      ‘Agreed.’

      Clinking their glasses together, they raised them to their lips in unison. The warm spicy wine slid down her throat smoothly. There was an intensity rolling off her companion. Not for the first time since arriving here did Olivia question her decision to deliver the tokens herself.

      ‘As you are aware,’ she said, ‘my box is to the left of the royal box. The hallway can become crowded with people hoping to catch sight of the royal family. It’s best to arrive early, if possible, to avoid the crush.’

      ‘The idea of becoming lost