Charles looked surprised, but only said, “I’m sure if it warrants, we could scrape together twenty thousand pounds, but I would have to check with the attorneys.”
“Subtly, Charles. Ever so subtly. I do not wish to have my linens aired before their time.”
Charles nodded. “Of course.”
Olivia left Charles and bade the coachman take her past William and Penny’s on St. James Place. Lights burned low in the front parlour. Should she stop? Would it be intruding? Olivia shook off the impulse and told the driver to take her home.
At Caymore House, John met her in the salon. “How was your day?”
“Very well. I think, and yours?”
“Yes, very well. Uneventful. I have cleaned my room for Manning to use whilst here. Andrew seems to be getting on very well. He has a very keen understanding of how a house should work. You will be impressed with him I think.”
“Is that so?” Olivia leaned back in her chair. “Tell me, have you given any more thought to marrying me?”
John snorted. “Have you gone mad?”
“Charles is looking into my finances. He believes I may have twenty thousand pounds. Will that be enough for my dowry?”
“We should not be discussing this here.” John glanced at the door. “Anyone may step in.”
“I do not care anymore.” Olivia sighed. “I am sick and tired of living this lie. I want to tell the whole world who you are and how much I love you.”
“Olivia, please. There are other forces at work here besides your heart. Lives are at stake because of who I am.”
“Yes, I know. And I am truly becoming ill over just exactly who you are. All this skulking about. What is going to happen if you are killed? Will I ever know? Or will they just sweep it under the carpet as another of those unexplained battles that no one had better remember. I am sick to death of this war. I am sick of you going away. I am sick of being who I am. John, you must marry me.”
“Why? So you may collect my pension if I do meet my Maker?”
“Do not be daft. I will sell my jewels if needs be, so we may live in a comfortable manor out in the wilds. We will never have to be in London again, and die happy and contented lives.”
John bunched his brows together. “Are you sure you are well? Liv, when was the last time you dined?”
Olivia swatted her hand at him. “I am perfectly well.” A great sob escaped and she cried into her handkerchief.
John waited for her to finish weeping before he said, “You need to rest. You have had three great shocks during the last two days. Now please, for me. I will not be able to bear thinking of you weeping after I’m gone, and I prefer to see you, as I love you, my amiable, lovely Livvy and remember that image when I’m in Spain not some hideous, blubbering fishwife. I should not like to see you distressed. Take a rest. I shall wake you in an hour.” He held out his hand to her.
Yes, she would go upstairs. There was a dinner tonight on her schedule. Perhaps she should send her regrets. She said to John, “Who is my dinner tonight?”
“The Duke of Marlborough.”
Olivia sighed. Oh yes, the perfunctory holiday dinner with the family. “Shall I see you before I go?”
“Yes, if you wish.” He stopped her at the door and kissed her. “You are the most maddening woman.”
“Yet you love me anyway.” She trailed off his kiss and opened the door. On her way upstairs, she thought about the crush tonight would be. She hated these occasions. Not that she didn’t like her family, but all of them together under one roof was the worst Shakespearean drama one could encounter without sparing a coin. And since she remained wealthy, beautiful, and unmarried, she was usually the talk of the party.
However, to all who knew her, she had remained faithful to her one and only true love, Fitzhugh. The romance she had with Fitzhugh Leighton was a lovely story she had cultivated over the years. The truth was he was a lonely old man who wanted a pretty, young wife, and would do anything to keep her happy. Fitzhugh spoiled her beyond measure, giving her jewels and furs for no particular reason. All that he wanted was a son in return. And she could never give him one. He begged Olivia at the end, for her to find his misbegotten heir, to tell him, he had a father. Olivia refused. She placated Fitzhugh with stories that she could not find him. That boy would try to claim the title and take away everything Fuzzy had given her.
Olivia entered her room and closed the door. She took two steps toward her bed, turned around, and locked the door. She leaned into her chair as she bent to take off her slippers. If the Patent Committee took away the title, who would she be? Mrs. Olivia Leighton? Olivia, formerly the Duchess of Caymore? Would she still be referred to as Your Grace? She had no idea.
A part of her understood what she would give up if she left Society for John. Leaving the demands of Society of her own accord was quite different from having the Committee put her out of it. With the title still intact, she would not lose her respectability. However, if the title was taken from her, she would be nothing. Yet an equal part of her longed to be rid of those burdens.
Olivia drew the coverlet and slipped under it. As she nestled into her pillows, she thought of all she had done for her family, for their place in Society. She had gone along with their desire for her to marry Fitzhugh, giving up a man she had truly loved. She would not do it again.
Olivia woke with a start from a dream about a baby. A candle shed a small light in the semi-darkness. She glanced at the clock. Half-six. She slept longer than she ought, but she must attend that dinner.
Olivia pulled the bell just as John appeared beside the armoire.
“I was just coming to wake you,” he said.
“I must go tonight, but I shan’t stay long. Perhaps until eleven.” She unlocked her door.
John backed into the recessed panel. “Yes, all right.” He closed the wall, just as Jennings opened the door.
“Your Grace,” Jennings said. She held two fresh gowns in each hand. “These have just come up.” She nodded to the emerald velvet gown. “This would look lovely tonight.”
Olivia picked up the hem. Clean. The last time she had seen it, six inches of mud ringed the bottom. “Yes. You’re right, dearest. That will do very well.”
Jennings walked to the armoire, opened the door, and hung up the three remaining gowns. She laid the velvet across the bed. “Would you like me to draw your bath?”
“Yes, very well. But I shan’t wash my hair. Tis too cold to go around with a wet head. I should catch my death.”
Jennings smiled. “Very well, Your Grace.” She stepped into the water closet and turned the spigots over the tub.
“Dearest, I think my diamond necklace tonight, not the emeralds.” She had never felt comfortable in the emeralds. They were a gift to Fuzzy’s first wife.
Jennings picked up Olivia’s hairbrush. “I heard Lady Penny and Lord William are staying at St. James Place. Did she say why?”
Olivia shook her head. “No, she did not. I can only surmise it is because of the nursery.”
Jennings nodded. “Is she well?”
“She looks very well. I found Honoria has been with her through it all, and there this afternoon as well. I can only surmise this house holds too many memories.” What if Penny never came back? Olivia could not imagine it. Where else would they go? They were poor as paupers. They could never afford to take their place in Society. They must live at Caymore.
“The water is ready, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Jennings. You are such a comfort.” Olivia patted her hand. She would have to remember to get her something extra special for Christmas this year. Jennings was a true and faithful friend.
At the Duke of Marlborough’s palatial town home, two-and-seventy people dined on roasted pheasant, duck, salmon, roasted beef, pork, assorted potato dishes, and casseroles, as well as several other courses. Olivia felt overstuffed and under-stimulated. The conversation at her Uncle’s was dreadful. If it were not for her cousin Bunny, whom she h
ad not seen in several years, she would have fled right after the first course.
Beatrice “Bunny” Gaines and her husband, Admiral of the Fleet, Rupert Gaines, were staying in London through the holidays. They were expected to partake of a Christmas goose at his nephew’s new house in St. John’s Wood.
“That sounds lovely, Bunny,” Olivia said. “You must give the Captain and Amanda my best. I sent a present for the baby, of course, but I have not been round to see them yet. I thought it best to wait for an invitation.” Captain Richard Gaines and his new wife, Amanda, had been blessed with a healthy baby girl.
“Amanda is certainly not a woman to stand on formality. I’m sure she would love to see you anytime. What are your plans on Christmas?”
Olivia glanced at the ceiling, trying to stay tears. “I do not know.” She gripped her cousin’s arm. “Penny lost the baby and has moved out of Caymore because of the nursery. They are staying in William’s old bachelor home at St. James Place.”
Beatrice’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my dear Olivia, I am so very sorry. Dinner is at three o’clock if you would care to join us at Richard’s. Unless of course, you have a different engagement.” Beatrice whispered in Olivia’s ear. “I must tell you, I heard Gilly has made an exceptional appearance in Town and enquired after you.”
“Gilly?” Olivia snorted. The Marquess of Gillyford had pursued Olivia relentlessly after Fuzzy’s death. Not wanting anything other than to get his hands on Fitzhugh’s fortune, Olivia refused his advances. When he did not take no for an answer, she had no recourse but to embarrass him in front of Society. He disappeared and hadn’t been seen since. “Well, he can return to Scotland. I have no interest in him.”
“Uncle seemed to think it was a good match.”
Olivia wanted to scream. As a grown woman, she could not allow her family to manipulate her again. Olivia loved John and wanted to marry him. Bunny knew most of Olivia’s secrets, except the one about John. Her cousin wouldn’t understand.
Beatrice patted Olivia’s arm. “Dearest, are you all right? I shan’t have to worry with you being all alone for Christmas.”
“No. I am very well situated, thank you.” Olivia wondered if that were so. Quiggins was leaving. Penny wouldn’t speak to her. Reginald would be in her house. Olivia shuddered. Just the thought of the man made her skin crawl. How could Constance have borne it all these years? “Constance and the girls are coming for the holidays.”
“When do they arrive?” Beatrice asked.
“Any day now. She sent a letter two days before they sailed, so I’m presuming they will arrive shortly. Unless Reginald brings them to Cornwall beforehand. Nevertheless, I’m sure I shall hear from her quite soon.”
Beatrice waved to her husband across the room. “Rupert is ready to heave anchor from Plymouth I think. This war is taking its toll on him.”
“Where will you go?” Olivia asked. “Not to some forsaken tropical island. I will never see you.”
“No. Though I might presume very close to London. Rupert is enamoured of Richard and Amanda’s brood. With the baby makes four. He loves the attention from Richard’s older boys. Rupert remembers Richard fondly at that age. The Navy is all he has ever known, so I think the children will be a good diversion for him.”
“When do you think Rupert could be persuaded to retire?” Olivia asked.
“As early as spring. I dare say he loves those children.” Beatrice smiled as her husband joined them.
“You have a happy face,” Rupert said to his wife. “What are you two gabbing about? You both look as though you have a great secret.”
Olivia smiled. “Bunny has just told me your weakness.”
“Chocolate in my coffee,” the Admiral said. “Yes, I feel like a lad in leading strings again. But…” He patted his stomach. “It makes the morning that much more tolerable.”
Olivia said, “I dare say I have never tried it. I think I shall.”
The clock in the hall chimed ten o’clock.
Olivia turned to Beatrice. “Dearest, I must go now, but it was…” she leaned in to kiss her cousin on the cheek… “Lovely to see you. Where are you staying?”
“The Bainbridge for now. We shall see how it goes along.”
“Say you will come for my Boxing Day Ball. I shall deliver an invitation on the morrow. I had no idea you would be in Town. Do come.”
“Oh, yes, you know I would be delighted, Livvy. Must you really go so soon? We have barely spoken. Do not leave me here all alone.”
Olivia laughed. “Dearest, we have not left each other’s sides all evening. And you cannot possibly be alone in this crowd. Look,” Olivia pointed through the crowd, “here comes Cousin Mary. Now you will not be alone. I doubt very much that Uncle even knows I’m here, but if he should ask, tell him I was not feeling well.”
Beatrice sighed. “Very well.” She kissed Olivia. “Run along then. Do let me know when Constance arrives. I shall help keep her entertained for you.”
“You are the very best of women, Bunny.” Olivia kissed Rupert on the cheek and walked to the front parlour to retrieve her coat. The footman went out to call for her coach.
“Olivia!”
She turned. Her uncle, the Duke of Marlborough, wobbled on his cane toward her.
“Uncle.” Olivia planted a soft kiss on his grizzled cheek.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I am not feeling well,” Olivia said. “Forgive me, Uncle, I cannot remain. Perhaps you will wait for an invitation from Caymore House. I would be delighted to entertain you for luncheon.”
He gazed at her with bloodshot eyes. “How are you to find a husband if you keep shut up in your house all day?”
“I am not shut up in my house. I attend my charities, and church, I am always out.”
“Then why are you not married? A woman of your station needs a man to stand beside her. Fitzhugh must be rolling over in his grave.”
Olivia stifled a laugh. “Uncle, Fitzhugh left me very well indeed. Why would I share that with anyone else?”
He cocked his head and smiled. “Still. You are a beautiful woman. You should marry again. Gillyford asked about you last night.”
“How lovely.” She looked him in the eye. “Uncle, I will make my own choice for my future husband.”
“You are not getting any younger,” her uncle said.
“Uncle.” Olivia pouted. “I am hardly fifty.”
“You are six-and-fifty.” He banged his cane on the floor. “Olivia, it has been ten years since Caymore died. And whatever disagreement you and Gillyford had, I believe he has forgiven you.”
Olivia stifled a groan. The footman coughed.
“Uncle,” Olivia said. “It was so lovely to see you again. I shall send the invitation for luncheon when Constance and the girls are here. Yes? It shall be a very merry party indeed. However, I must dash.” She kissed his cheek and ran from the mansion.
In the carriage, Olivia snorted. Uncle was insufferable. To think that she would marry Gillyford. A man who would take everything she had and spend it on horses and gambling. Absurd. Olivia hadn’t devoted her life to Fuzzy to lose it to some lecherous old Marquess in his dotage, with spoiled children who were waiting for the old man to die to get their hands on her money. She would rather give it all away than succumb to that.
Chapter Six
At Caymore House, John waited for her in the hall.
“Why have you not gone up?” Olivia asked. The hallway was dark; only one candle lit the front entry.
“I always wait for you, do I not?” He took her coat.
Olivia shed her gloves and hat and left them on the small table. “Yes, you do.” She took his arm as they walked down the hall. “What did you do this afternoon? I’m sorry I was such a bear earlier. Penny’s news and then her departure, not to mention yours, Constance arriving, and hiring a new butler… my mind is a whir.”
In the yellow salon, John escorted Olivia to her chair, walked to the liquor
tray, and poured each of them a glass of brandy. He handed her a glass and sat across from her. “We leave Saturday morning.”
“So soon?” Today was Tuesday. Olivia took a sip of her drink.
“I told you by the end of the week.” John leaned back in the chair.
“Yes, you did. I had hoped you would decide not to go.”
“We’ve been round this, Liv.”
Olivia stared at his hands as they held his glass. “Have you given any more thought to marrying me?”
John searched her face. “Yes, I have actually.”
“And?”
“I still do not think it is a good idea.”
“I’m not talking about ideas, I’m talking about marriage. Surely, you would rather be with me than return to Spain, would you not? In the truest sense of the word?”
“Aye.” John raised his brow.
“Well, if we marry before you leave, you will be assured of something to look forward to when you return.”
John stood. “Do you mean to tell me if I do not marry you, then you will find someone else in my absence?” John put his glass on the table and strode to the door.
“No, John.” She called after him. “For heaven’s sake. No. That is not what I meant.” It was too late. He was already gone.
When Olivia awoke the next morning, alone, she felt horrible about what she said. But that was not what she meant and if John couldn’t see that…well, she would have to smooth the waters later. However, their little spat gave her an excuse to leave the house.
She rang for Jennings, who helped her dress, and then Olivia called for the carriage. She needed to clear her head, to think about her future; miserable as it would be without John.
During her second turn along Rotten Row, a rider thundered up alongside the carriage window. He swept his hat from his head in a mock bow. Henry! Olivia banged on the roof and the horses slowed. Henry dismounted and a footman climbed off the boot to open the carriage door as the other held his horse.
“Your Grace,” he said. “I would never have imagined your partaking of a drive so early in the morning. Say you were looking for me and make me the happiest man alive.” His eyes crinkled in the corners as he teased her.
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