The Duke of Everleigh was quiet for most of their short journey along the cliff road, only breaking his silence to point out places of interest. The ruined watch-tower from centuries ago, an area along the cliffs where there had been a large rock-slide a few years before, the place where Ruan had learnt how to gallop a horse for the first time. This last image gave Olive cause to smile; she could not imagine the large, intimidating man beside her as a small boy. His masculinity was so overwhelming that it was hard to picture him embodying any other form than the imposing, muscular one he now possessed. Which of course was ridiculous, Olive scolded herself, he had not entered the world at six foot four.
"What was it like?" she asked, as the Gig rounded a corner and a breathtaking view of the sea was revealed, stretching for miles, as far as the eye could see. "Growing up here? It must have been idyllic."
"It was," Ruan nodded, "In many ways it was perfect. My father sent me here most summers, and winter was spent at the Ducal seat in Avon. Everleigh Hall is much larger than Pemberton and far less homely, so I preferred Cornwall and the freedom it offered me."
"Did he send you alone?" Olive tried to keep the distaste from her voice; her own childhood memories of summer were filled with family-- her mother, her cousins, even her wretched father who had not been so bad in those days.
"Yes," Ruan looked at her with surprise, having caught the censure of her tone. "After my mother left, my father could barely stand to look at me. He had his heir, he cared little for raising me and left that to my governess."
"That's awful."
Ruan caught her tone of pity and gave her an amused smile.
"My father was not a very nice man," he shrugged, "So leaving me with the governess was a mutually beneficial arrangement. She was a wonderful woman, I lacked for nothing. And I had great friends here, in St. Jarvis, to keep me company."
"Oh, yes," Liv smiled, "I have heard that you, Somerset and Deveraux were considered the three musketeers of the area."
The Duke snorted; "I doubt we ever did anything as remarkable or heroic as The Musketeers, bar frighten a fisherman or two, but the three of us were inseparable --and Catherine, of course."
"Was Catherine your Constance?" Liv ventured, thinking that like the heroine from Dumas's novel both had met tragic ends.
"Actually," Ruan's voice was low and filled with nostalgia, "Catherine was always closer with Lavelle than I. Deveraux and I had wagers placed on when they would wed, but once Somerset came of age and left for London, he forgot about her almost completely. Which sounds hard-hearted, but London offers a veritable buffet of delights for a young, well-heeled man, and in one's first few years in town it is easy to be led astray."
"You weren't led astray though," Olive countered, thinking of what Polly had told her. Ruan too had gone to London, but had returned when Catherine had summoned him to rescue her.
"It might surprise you," Ruan said with a laugh, as he pulled the horse in at a bend in the road. "But I tend to be sentimental when it comes to the people I love. I find it hard to forget them, even when I try."
Was he speaking of Catherine? Olive watched him closely as he disembarked the Gig and held his hand out to help her down. There was an ease to his movements, a lightness to his step, and yet his eyes were sad and thoughtful.
"This is one of my favourite places in the whole world," he said conversationally, as he untied the horse from the gig and tethered her to a nearby fence post. "We'll follow the path down the cliffs, to where the castle ruins are. There's a small cove which is utterly beautiful, you'll see it when we get there."
He lifted a basket, which appeared weighed down with foodstuff, out of the gig and gestured for her to follow him. Olive scrambled after her husband, along the stony path, which ran down the side of the cliffs. The climb was steep, but not arduous, and when they reached the castle ruins, Olive could see why Ruan loved the place so. The old, crumbling walls of the castle were built along the jagged rocks of the headland. Some walls were still half standing, and as they passed by Olive caught glimpses of the sea through the Baluster windows that still remianed. She followed Ruan across what must have once been a courtyard, and down stone steps which had been built into the cliff wall centuries before.
Beneath them there was a small cove, with a white, sandy beach, and turquoise water lapping against the shore.
"Oh," she gasped, as she took in the beauty, "This must be what Italy is like!"
"Italy has nothing on Castle Cove," Ruan said dismissively. He took her hand as she negated the last of the stone steps, which were slippery with seaweed, and Olive felt a shiver of desire as his skin made contact with hers. When he dropped her hand to set the basket down on the soft, white sand, she felt almost bereft. How had her feelings toward him changed so drastically overnight? True, she had desired him even when she detested him, but now that she knew more about his past, her longing for him felt less conflicted and she did not try to fight it.
"Jane kindly arranged all this," Ruan said cheerfully as he unpacked a blanket and spread it out for them to sit on. Liv sank down and folded her hands primly on her lap as she watched the Duke unpack plates and pile them high with strawberries, cheeses and cold-meats. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves so that his tanned, muscular forearms were on display. As he handed Liv her plate, she noted that his hands, while large, were elegant and that he wore the ring that she had stolen from him on his index finger.
"Your friend in the pawnshop sang like a canary," he said wryly, as he caught where her gaze was focused. There was no animosity in his voice for her having sold what was probably a precious family heirloom, but still she felt guilt at what she had done.
"I'm so sorry," she said, setting down her plate on the blanket, "I should not have taken it --and of course I will pay the money back to you--"
"Don't even try, or I will be very annoyed," Ruan interrupted, his eyes narrowed. "You owe me nothing, Olive."
The way that he spoke her name, so tenderly, filled Olive with warmth. She dropped her eyes to her lap and began fidgeting with her hands, as she tried to summon up the courage to ask him the question she had wanted to ask since the moment her father told her she was engaged to him.
"Why did you set about winning me in a card game?" she finally asked, raising her head so that she could look at his face. "Why did you not simply call on me and state your intentions?"
"I was afraid that you would say no."
The Duke delivered this statement in a very matter of fact way, but Olive could see that the tips of his ears had reddened with embarrassment.
"And then I had one of my business contacts find out what he could about your father, and it became clear that your situation was perilous," he continued, giving a shrug, "I could not simply leave you with him, and I was afraid that someone else might have the same idea as me, and use you as--as--"
"Leverage to pay his debts," Olive finished his sentence and gave a small snort of derision. "Thank you for the compliment your Grace, but I was never considered that much of a catch that any man would take me over the money my father owed. Money won out, every time."
"Then those men were fools," Ruan was vehement, "To not see what I saw."
Olive did not ask him what it was that he saw in her, for she could tell by his eyes which were hazy with lust and desire, just what it was that he wanted. Her own heart was pounding erratically in her chest, and a loaded silence fell between them, during which the only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore. He thought he was protecting me by stealing me away from my Father; Liv felt lightheaded at the realisation. No one, since her mother's death, had cared that much for her well-being. Though the way that he had gone about acquiring her hand still rankled.
"I wish that you had just asked me," she said morosely, popping a strawberry into her mouth to prevent herself from nibbling on her lip with anxiety.
"Is it too late to ask you now?"
His eyes held hers as she considered her response. One picnic did not make a great romance, she reasoned, but his idea to start over, from the beginning, showed that they might find a way. He was a good man, she knew this now, and he was so handsome it was sinful...but did she love him?
"It is too early yet, your Grace," she eventually replied, affecting a flippant air. "For you only called on me just this very morning, and a woman cannot accept a proposal of marriage from a man she has not even danced with."
Ruan's eyes narrowed speculatively and a flash of emotion crossed his face. "Then I must find a ball, my dear, and whisk you off your feet post-haste."
"A ball in St. Jarvis?" Liv raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "It cannot be done, your Grace."
"Anything is possible," Ruan replied, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. "When it's done in pursuit of a beautiful woman."