by Mandy Goff
As Gibbons finally opened the door at his mistress’s nod, Olivia straightened her chin and marched out the door.
And right into Anna Finley.
“Lady Olivia,” the young girl stammered, her hand raised as though still ready to knock on the door.
“Anna?” Olivia asked, gripping the girl by the elbows to steady them both.
“I was coming to see you,” Anna said. “Obviously,” she added with a self-deprecating smile.
“Come in,” Olivia invited, pushing the door back open and leading the girl inside.
“It’s so lovely in here,” Anna breathed.
“Thank you. Come have a seat.” Olivia led them past several doors until they were in the morning room.
Anna sat but looked uncomfortable.
“How are you?” Olivia asked gently. For the first time in their acquaintance, Anna seemed awkward around her. Perhaps the news of what happened at the Ashburn’s with Nick had made her question the kind of person Olivia was.
“I’m fine.” But the twisting of the reticule in Anna’s hands belied her words.
“It’s good to see you. It’s been since…”
“The Ashburn ball,” Anna finished for her.
Neither one spoke, and Olivia was prepared to offer to ring for tea when Anna broke the silence.
“Olivia, I’m so happy for you,” the young girl blurted.
The admission caught Olivia unaware. “You are?”
“Yes.” She nodded fervently. “I heard about what happened, and that you’re getting married. I think it’s wonderful! It’s to that man, isn’t it?”
Olivia’s mouth was open in shock, and Anna didn’t wait to hear her answer.
“I know Mama said I’m not to congratulate you because it’s scandalous what happened, but you’re my friend…aren’t you?” she paused her rant long enough to look at Olivia.
Olivia nodded. She was still mute.
“And I know the gossips are saying all sorts of horrid things, but I told Mama it was all perfectly innocent.” Anna’s tone indicated she’d brook no argument.
What had Olivia done to deserve such a steadfast champion? And what fluke of heritage had gifted Anna into the same family as Finley?
Since they were on the same settee, Olivia didn’t have to stand to embrace her friend. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m so glad you came by to see me.”
Anna pulled back. “Oh, right. Julian was at the house when Mama and I were talking about me coming to see you.” She pulled a face. “He wanted me to bring you something.”
Olivia carefully kept her face neutral. “What would that be?”
Anna pulled the strings on her purse and fished around inside. Finally, she pulled a folded piece of parchment out.
“I don’t know what he wants,” Anna said with an apologetic shrug.
Olivia knew she should wait to open the letter until she was alone—had the distinct feeling her face would show every emotion she felt once she read the words. But she didn’t want to sit there through the rest of the visit, morbidly imagining what was contained in the missive.
“Do you mind if I just glance at it?” she asked Anna.
Anna shook her head. “Not at all.”
Olivia’s hands trembled as she unfolded the letter.
It was short, and to the point.
Denounce the engagement. Leave London. Finley would meet her in the country, and they would be married without delay. By a minister or a blacksmith in Gretna Green.
And of course, she knew what would happen if she didn’t.
He’d underlined the last part several times, leaving a heavy ink spot at the end of the emphasized line.
“Olivia?” Anna asked, “Are you all right?”
Olivia managed a nod, but she wasn’t certain how reassuring that was.
Anna patted her on the back, like a mother soothing an upset child. But Olivia still had enough presence of mind to realize Anna seemed to be upset as well.
Olivia realized the reason why a few moments later.
“I should never have agreed to bring it with me,” Anna said with a huff. “What vile things did my cousin have to say?”
“It’s nothing,” Olivia dismissed, hastily refolding the letter and tucking it under her skirts. “Nothing at all.”
Anna looked skeptical.
“Did you enjoy the ball?” Olivia asked suddenly because she knew Anna would be distracted from the letter.
“So much,” Anna gushed.
The next half of an hour was lost to Olivia. She knew she made appropriate comments and responses, but her participation in the conversation ended there.
How could she possibly feign enthusiasm when she was thinking about how she was going to hurt the man she wished she could spend the rest of her life with in favor of the man she never wanted to see again?
Olivia agonized over what to do. She didn’t want to stay around the house because it depressed her, and there weren’t many places around town she wished to go to. Her Bond Street expedition was abandoned for fear of running into Finley.
Which was why she surprised herself by asking Sarah to accompany her to the Duchess of Leith’s house. The coachman pulled up outside the townhome, and Olivia waited several moments before opening the door and descending the carriage steps.
She had no rational reason for wanting to see the other woman, and she knew as soon as she officially rejected Nick, the duchess would probably not want much to do with her. Perhaps she wanted to be the one to break the news to her, so she could gauge for herself how the woman was going to react. Or perhaps—and this scenario was more likely—she wanted a bit of understanding and commiseration. She might not be able to share the full story—or any of the important parts—with her, but Henrietta seemed the type of woman to offer both sympathy and understanding.
Olivia could use a healthy dose of both.
But then Olivia’s paranoid nature began to take over. What if the duchess had a temper? What if she became enraged Olivia wouldn’t be marrying her nephew?
Olivia had never before been thrown out of someone’s home. She supposed, however, certain things in life were inevitable. And as the future wife of Lord Finley, she knew there would be places she wouldn’t be welcome. In her time in London, she’d discovered the baron didn’t command the respect or admiration he’d always claimed to.
She also supposed it was a good thing she didn’t much care for societal affairs.
The formal butler, one who made Gibbons look like a traveling circus act, admitted her immediately into an elegantly appointed room. And surprisingly, there wasn’t a single splash of chartreuse among the color scheme.
The duchess greeted Olivia warmly when she came in to meet her.
“It’s so lovely to see you dear,” the duchess said as she gave Olivia a welcoming hug.
“I hope you don’t mind I came by unannounced.” Olivia twisted her reticule in her hands, worried about what the older woman would do once she heard what Olivia had to say.
“You are welcome here anytime.” Henrietta motioned for Olivia to sit and then called for a tea service.
“What’s troubling you?” she asked Olivia, once she took her own seat. “You look pale.”
The rice powder, Olivia thought to herself. She was still wearing it to cover the small traces of the bruise left on her cheek. “I don’t know how to begin.” Olivia occupied herself with smoothing her skirts, hoping to avoid having to look at the kind countenance of Nick’s aunt.
Henrietta leaned forward in her seat. “Are you feeling well?” The duchess was too much of a lady to mention the circles under Olivia’s eyes and her look of desperation.
Olivia didn’t need to hear someone tell her how she appeared. She’d seen her own face in the mirror often enough to have the image burned into her mind.
“I’m afraid I have upsetting news.”
The tea arrived, and Henrietta efficiently prepared their cups while Olivia waited in silence. After sh
e had passed a teacup to Olivia, the older woman nodded her head to encourage Olivia to continue.
“I won’t be marrying your nephew.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and Olivia wasn’t sure they were understandable.
“Whyever not?” Genuine distress colored the duchess’s features.
“It’s complicated. Nick is blameless, though. I don’t want you to think he’s the reason I’m calling off the engagement.”
Henrietta sipped her tea. While Olivia couldn’t prove it, she was relatively sure the duchess was stalling for time.
“What did Nicholas have to say?” Henri asked finally.
Olivia bit her bottom lip with her teeth, worrying at it until she couldn’t put off answering the question any longer. “I haven’t told him yet.”
Olivia thought Henrietta was going to choke on her beverage. “You haven’t told him you’re not marrying him?” she sputtered.
The ungraceful reaction somehow made Olivia feel even guiltier. “No, I haven’t. Well, not in so many words. He can be rather insistent about things. So he refused to take my initial no for an answer.”
The sound of the older woman setting her teacup back in the saucer made a delicate clink. “I know you might feel as though you don’t know me well enough to answer, and I certainly understand. But can I ask why you feel you can’t marry Nick?”
“My reasons have nothing to do with your nephew in particular. And I feel badly about having to deny him. He has become a friend to me.”
The duchess seemed to be trying to come up with a simple explanation for Olivia’s problem. “Are you afraid of getting married, my dear? I know you must miss your mother terribly now. You should be getting ready and sharing the experience with her. She should also be the one to tell you what to expect now that you’re going to be a wife.”
Olivia’s eyes misted at the mention of her mother. Henrietta couldn’t have anticipated the reaction her words would have. The thought made Olivia sad, of course, but it also made her angry. Were it not for her mother, she never would have had to make this difficult decision.
Olivia had to continually pray God would help her conquer the anger she felt. While perhaps she was justified, the emotion wasn’t edifying.
“I’m sorry, I should have known not to say anything about her.” Henri moved closer as though she was going to offer solace.
Olivia didn’t bother pulling out a handkerchief but wiped the few lone tears away with the tips of her gloved fingers. “No, think nothing of it. Her absence pains me still—” in more ways than anyone would ever know “—but she isn’t the reason why I cannot marry your nephew.”
“Child, I wish you would come out and say it. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”
“I can’t speak about it. At least not now,” Olivia answered honestly.
Henrietta pursed her lips. “This isn’t about the bit of ugliness circulating about Nick, is it? Because while I can’t divulge a confidence, I can tell you not to believe a negative word about him.”
“I don’t. I know him well enough not to pay any mind to the idle gossiping of the ton.”
“Nicholas is a good man,” Henrietta affirmed. Her solid nod made it clear she would brook no arguments on the subject, not that Olivia had any to offer, of course.
“I know he is. He is a good friend to me.” Or at least, he had been.
“Does your brother not approve of the match? I thought the two were friends as well.”
It would be so nice to be able to tell someone the truth. She doubted Henrietta would judge her, or her mother harshly, and obviously, the woman could be trusted to keep a secret. But Olivia didn’t want Henri to feel any sense of responsibility or feel Olivia was asking for any kind of help.
So she stayed silent.
“I can’t really discuss why I’m not marrying Lord Huntsford.” Olivia leaned forward, took the elderly lady’s wrinkled hands in her own. “I’ll tell you something I can’t even tell Nick.” She dropped her voice to a near whisper, saying, “If I had a choice, it would certainly be him.”
Henrietta opened her mouth, perhaps to ask why Olivia felt she couldn’t decide for herself.
Olivia rushed on. “Please don’t make this any harder for me. You have to know I would love nothing more than to be able to call you my own aunt. I know you’ll probably want nothing to do with me after this, and I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to see anyone. But please know I think you are a wonderful woman.”
The duchess shook her head. “Olivia, dear, I’m afraid you’re not making much sense. From the way you’re talking, one would think you’re planning on being kidnapped, or worse.”
Oh, worse—much worse.
“You’ll have to forgive me. Marcus tells me it’s in my nature to be dramatic,” Olivia said, hoping to ease Henri’s mind.
Henrietta grasped at the explanation desperately. “That must be it. Your nerves are simply overwhelming you. I suggest you go home and rest. Everything will look clearer in the morning.”
Olivia didn’t contradict her. Henrietta would discover soon enough that Olivia meant what she had said. Olivia would have to rest in the knowledge she’d at least tried to prepare the duchess for what was going to happen.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Olivia sat in the empty morning room. Ever since the announcement in the Times, her ardent, dedicated suitors had ceased calling on her. So, she thought with a wry smile, there had been some benefit to the charade.
She knew Nick would be coming to see her as he’d warned her the day before to expect a visit. He’d sounded cordial enough—so obviously Henri had not yet talked to him. Perhaps the duchess thought Olivia had changed her mind. That in the time since they’d spoken, Olivia had realized the foolishness of her thinking.
So, while Nick was coming over to finalize their wedding plans, she intended to break the engagement for good.
Nick entered the room with a smile. Olivia had to force herself not to study him too closely. He was, as always, impeccably dressed. The man could have stepped directly off a fashion plate.
“Good morning, Olivia.”
“Good morning to you as well. I trust you had a pleasant evening.”
He nodded, waited until she took a seat and then sat in the chair closest to her.
An awkward silence descended. Neither one seemed to want to bridge the conversational gap. Olivia knew she should go ahead and break the news to him, but she wanted to stall. She was half afraid of his reaction, half reluctant to end the fantasy once and for all.
Nick noticed her discomfort. “Is there something on your mind?” he asked.
She wished she could shake her head and assure him everything was all right. But lying—to either him or herself—would cause problems later.
“I can’t accept this.” Olivia slipped the ring off her finger with more hesitation than she would have expected from herself. Over the past several days, the cold weight had grown comfortable. She felt bereft without it.
Nick’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You already have.”
“I should never have agreed to wear it,” she amended. The beautiful sapphire was clenched tightly in her fist. But she forced herself to open her hand over the table. The ring hit the polished wood with a thunk that resounded and echoed in the now-silent room.
“Do you not like it? I can go to a jeweler’s and have something else made—something to suit your taste.”
Olivia wanted to snatch the ring off the table and put it back on her finger. Doing so would have erased the vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s a lovely ring,” she assured him.
But the bauble remained where it was.
He looked at his discarded gift to her when he asked, “Why exactly are you returning the ring?” His voice was quiet, and Olivia couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset. Or both.
The deep breath didn’t have the steadying effect she hoped for. “I can’t accept your ring because I can’t marry you.”
Nic
k stood and gripped the back of his neck with his hand. “Are we back to this?” he asked. “We’ve discussed the matter. You have no choice but to marry me.”
Olivia wanted to argue, but was certain that, as before, he’d remain firm in refusing to listen to her arguments. She knew he wouldn’t let her go easily.
“I’ve tried to tell you we will not be getting married. The only person who is having difficulty accepting that is you,” she said.
Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Is that right?” he asked skeptically. “Then what, exactly, do you plan on doing? What will you do when no one will speak to you because your reputation is in tatters?”
“It won’t matter to me by then.”
“What do you mean, ‘by then’?”
She prayed God would be merciful and give her the strength to do what she had to do. And she turned her head away from him, not wanting to see his expression when she told him the one thing that would end their relationship.
“I’ll be married by then.”
While she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear his sigh of relief. “All right. Put the ring back on, then, and we’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”
“I won’t be married to you,” she clarified.
“You won’t be married to me?”
“No.”
“Who then? Who do you plan on making your husband?”
Olivia looked at him, trying to appear stern; otherwise, she was afraid her eyes would well with tears. “Do you even need to ask me that?”
“You must be joking.”
Olivia shook her head. The sadness threatened to overwhelm her, and her resolve wavered. Did she really have to cave to Finley’s blackmail? Would it be so bad for Marcus to know the truth about their mother? He was a grown man, had a strong faith and perhaps he wouldn’t be as surprised by the news or her duplicity as she feared. She could confess and not have to worry about Finley divulging the secret to him. She could marry Nick and have the life she’d not allowed herself to believe was possible.
Finley wouldn’t stop at telling Marcus, however. He would make good on his threat to expose the shame to the rest of England. And now with Marcus’s workhouse reforms gaining support, the objective would be jeopardized if something like their mother’s suicide was to become public knowledge.
