TuesdayNights

by Linda Rae Sande

  The footman shrugged and seemed eager to return to his meal. “If I may, milady, I believe Her Grace received a letter from Mr. Cunningham a bit over a week ago with the news of the impending nuptials.” And when he realized he shouldn’t have known such details, the footman colored up and averted his eyes. “Pardon, milady, I assure you, I did not read the letter. I cannot read, in fact, but I overheard Her Grace speaking of it with His Grace, the Duke of Somerset, over dinner.”

  For a moment, Olivia was very glad that the footman could not see her face, for the look of shock was most unladylike. Michael sent a note to the duchess more than a week ago to inform her of his upcoming nuptials? But how did he know? And from Elizabeth’s letter, it was quite apparent she was informed as to whom Michael would be marrying. The letter is addressed to me!

  Olivia excused herself from the footman’s presence, intending to determine the whereabouts of her husband. While on her way to the vestibule to ring for Jeffers, she recalled him saying Michael was with Sir Richard. Then she remembered her appointment with Mr. Seward. Sighing, she instead stepped back into the library. Finding it empty, Olivia took a seat near the fireplace. Anxious to learn more, but knowing she would simply have to wait for Michael’s return, she began stitching on her embroidery. She wondered after a time where Mr. Seward might be, and just how did Michael know that she would be marrying him before last Tuesday night? Intending to reread the note from the duchess, Olivia was about to get up and move to the mantle where she’d left it when she realized she was no longer alone.

  “Olivia,” Edward said a bit breathless as he entered the library. He gave a slight bow as a slightly startled Olivia stood and curtsied. “I am honored that you have come,” he said quietly, his manner indicating a great deal of nervousness.

  Edward was dressed impeccably, as usual, and his hair was perfectly combed into place. Just once, she considered, she would like to see the straight-laced man a bit rumpled.

  “Your note was most cryptic,” Olivia replied as she set aside the embroidery, her thoughts still on the timing of her marriage to Michael and the seal with the letters ‘OWC’ and her correspondence with the duchess. There was something else in the note she wanted to reread. Something about a deadline. “What is it you despair in telling me?” she wondered, a look of curiosity crossing her face.

  His hands behind his back, Edward regarded her and took a deep breath. “If you are not otherwise engaged, I would ask you to accompany me to the second floor. I have something I wish to show you,” he stated, hiding his nervousness as best he could.

  He’d been rehearsing this moment in his head for the entire day and was sure he was prepared for whatever Olivia’s reaction might be. For this to work, he would have to be sure his supposed feelings for her seemed genuine and that she did not feel anything for him in return. A possibility that he hadn’t considered last night suddenly crossed his mind. What if she feels affection for me? he wondered. No, she cannot, he quickly countered. She had not shown the least bit of interest in him in that way, he did not think. He expected her to outright refuse his offer. Hoped she would, in fact.

  “Of course,” Olivia answered without hesitation, her curiosity apparent. She joined him near the door and took his offered arm. “Will you give me a hint?” she asked lightly as he led her past the dining room to the stairway.

  Edward smiled down at her, his heart beating a quick tattoo as he replied, “Not yet.” They climbed the stairs and barely passed her room in the broad hallway before he turned to stand before a panel in the hallway wall opposite from her room.

  The same panel that Michael had been knocking on just the night before, Olivia realized.

  Turning a piece of molding and then pressing the flat of his hand against the raised paneling, Edward gave a sigh as a doorway in the wall appeared from the seams of the molding and swung inward. Olivia gasped in surprise as Edward surreptitiously glanced toward the stairs to ensure no servants had seen them. He ushered her into the space beyond the door and quickly closed the secret panel behind him.

  “What ... what is this place?” Olivia asked in awe, her voice lowered as she glanced around the room, trying to take in all the details of the decor – the colors, the furnishings, the fabrics, the carpeting. She hadn’t noticed Edward closing the door behind them.

  Edward paused just inside the doorway before he replied, “Your salon, my darling.” He stood very still as he allowed her to stand next to him, her attention drawn to the door he had just closed. From inside the beautifully appointed room, the door was just part of the wall, its seams not readily apparent.

  Turning around to follow Edward’s gaze, Olivia inhaled as she gazed at the elegant fabrics and ornate furnishings of the salon. Golds and purples shimmered in the walls, in the carpet, on the settee, and in the coverlet and pillows that adorned a large bed. A purple velvet overstuffed chair sat next to a gilt table, and a gilt vanity stood against one wall covered in purple satin. But with only one small window, light came from several lamps and a set of sconces on either side of the vanity.

  The purple room, she realized with delight.

  “Do you like it?” Edward asked hopefully, swallowing hard as he watched Olivia turn slowly to take in the room.

  “Of course! ’Tis beautiful!” she breathed, her hand reaching out to touch the fabric on the bed. “So royal ...”

  “Suited for a queen, of course,” Edward stated quietly. He practically held his breath as he watched her. He closed his eyes and hoped his plan would work.

  Olivia turned her attention back to him, a quizzical expression crossing her face. “What did you say?” she asked, her brows furrowing.

  Edward straightened and then led her to the settee. “It is suited for a queen,” he stated again as he sat down and motioned for her to do so. He took one of her hands in between both of his. “In fact, it is patterned after the recently created Queen’s purple salon,” he explained in a quiet voice.

  Surprised at his impropriety, Olivia nearly pulled her hand away. “But I am not a queen,” she answered, the wrinkle between her brows deepening.

  “You are to me,” Edward replied, realizing immediately that he may have spoken too quickly. He bit his lip. At Olivia’s raised eyebrows, he continued, “I had this room decorated for you to use whenever you wish,” he lied. “I just ask that you tell no one else of its existence.”

  Shaking her head, Olivia studied Edward’s face. Michael obviously knew of the room – at that moment, she realized it was the room Jeffers was supposed to have taken her to when she arrived. Doesn’t Jeffers know about this room? How could a room like this exist without the entire staff knowing, especially if it had been recently installed? “But ... why?” she wondered, her head feeling a bit light and her breaths coming in short gasps.

  Edward sighed and then cupped a hand along her cheek. “Because ... because, I love you,” he whispered. “I have since the ...”

  Olivia gasped harder and tried to stand, but Edward quickly moved his hand to her shoulder and gently forced her back down onto the settee. “I have loved you since the moment I first laid eyes upon you, my dearest Olivia.” He took a deep breath. “I wish for you to be my mistress.”

  Olivia stared at Edward, stunned by his words. “But, Mr. Seward, I look nothing like your dear Anna,” she stated quietly, wondering why the man would consider her for the position of his mistress.

  What had the young seamstress said earlier? And the other seamstress had called her ‘Anna’ when she rebuffed her comment about wishing to marry the friend of Lady Cunningham’s son. Edward! She had said ‘Edward’, she remembered. It was Anna in the modiste, it had to be!

  Edward frowned. “True, you do not,” he answered, his eyes darting away from her for a moment as he nearly lost his nerve. “But, what ... what has she to do with this?” he asked suddenly, immediately regretting the question.

  Cocking
an eyebrow, Olivia regarded Edward for a moment. She had to live in the same house as this man, so she dared not offend him. “You have already given your heart to another, Mr. Seward. I have no intention of becoming a mistress, even to a man as handsome as you, especially when I know you cannot feel true affection for me,” she reasoned, trying hard to keep her heart from pounding too hard. And then she remembered the most important reason she had to deny his offer. “Besides, I cannot ...,” Olivia heard herself saying as she shook her head. “I am a married woman ...”

  Edward took a deep breath. So, at least she did not seem to share my supposed feelings of love, he realized with a great deal of relief. He had to make her believe he wanted her more than any other woman, though. And just one night would not be enough to satisfy his supposed hunger for her. He had to make her believe he wanted her often. And he would do whatever it took. “Surely you know of Michael’s mistress,” he stated calmly. Damn! I wasn’t going to play that card this soon, he chided himself as Olivia’s expression seemed to turn to one of shock and then anger.

  “How dare you?” she whispered hoarsely. Olivia swallowed hard and stared at the tall man. What would Michael do when she informed him of Edward’s proposal?

  “Your husband has a mistress,” he countered defensively, his voice soft and quiet, and very effective as its message made its way to Olivia’s comprehension.

  “I am well aware that my husband has a mistress,” she admitted with a nod of her head, tears threatening to form in her eyes. Although she did not know for certain, she was fairly sure Michael had a mistress based on what had happened last Tuesday night. Breathe, she thought quickly. Do not cry.

  Edward’s brows nearly reached his hairline. “You do?” he questioned, a bit of surprise in his voice.

  “My sister, I think,” she whispered, almost hissing the word between clenched teeth. At his surprised expression, she explained. “I have suspected since before the night he ruined my reputation.” When Edward continued to look confused, she added, “I am quite sure he wasn’t looking for his bedchamber when he found mine that night, Edward. He was looking for my sister’s room. He even called me ‘El’,” she claimed, not able to meet his gaze as she admitted what little she knew. She did not add that she had seen the two in the library the day before, Michael holding her sister’s hands whilst he kissed her on the forehead. Had he just asked if he could court her? she wondered then, her stomach suddenly churning. She forced herself to remain calm. Nothing of what Edward said was really a surprise, after all.

  Staring at her, Edward swallowed and then lowered his eyes. She knows more than I thought she would. “Certainly you will notice his repeated absences on Tuesday night.”

  Putting a hand on her bosom, Olivia forced herself to smile and gave a sigh. “Then I shall not expect him to be home on Tuesday nights,” she replied quickly, wondering what else she could say in her husband’s defense. And why am I even trying to defend him? Edward was merely confirming what she had already guessed before she’d married the man.

  Edward simply stared at her, his expression one of sympathy. As Olivia watched his face, hers took on a look of dismay. “Oh, my,” she whispered. Turning away from him, she covered her mouth with one hand and took several breaths. “How long have you known?” she whispered hoarsely.

  Trying to contain his growing nervousness, Edward paused a bit before answering, “He has been seeing your sister since her move to London, I believe.”

  The confirmation of what she’d suspected hit Olivia as if she’d taken a solid punch to her chest – a punch that could have been delivered by Michael in that it landed so precisely, it took her breath away and left her heart aching so badly she thought she would die. For in the that moment, besides finding out her husband and sister were indeed lovers, she also realized she was undeniably in love with Michael. She had been for years, she admitted to herself. How could she not be? How could this news brings such pain – such a deep ache that threatened to prevent her ability even to take another breath – if she did not truly feel affection for him?

  If she was not in love with him?

  Her eyes had become blurred by tears that welled up so quickly she was blinded to Edward’s look of regret at having told her what he knew. And from somewhere far away, she heard him say, “And I promise you, my darling Olivia, that I shall never do such a thing while we are together,” as he raised her left hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

  Pain radiated from her sprained wrist, giving her mind something concrete to concentrate on as she continued to review everything in her head. She still could not quite believe what Edward was proposing. Suddenly hearing Edward’s last words in her mind, Olivia looked up at him. “Together?” she repeated, her head spinning and her breath held in disbelief.

  “I want you, Olivia,” Edward whispered. “I love you. I wish you only happiness and hope that by agreeing to be my mistress, you can find some happiness in this life. And provide me with some as well.” For a moment, he found himself believing his own statement. “I assure you, I will be a most generous lover,” he added, still trying to convince her. She is a rather pretty gel, even if she doesn’t have black hair, he thought absently.

  Olivia heard his words before everything in sight began to go gray. And the last words she heard were, “Oh, dear, you need to breathe, Olivia,” just before everything went black and she felt herself falling.

  Edward caught her head with one hand before it could hit the wood frame of the settee, and he pulled her body against his. The scent of roses from her hair filled his nostrils, and he smiled a bit as he lifted her from the settee and carried her to the bed. Lowering her, he arranged a pillow under her head and supported himself on one elbow as he used the other hand to brush a ringlet of mahogany hair from her face. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead and her eyelids, his lips barely touching her skin. Damn! That wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought, a bit of panic welling up inside him. She really is a pretty woman, he admitted to himself as he felt his loins stir. But she is not my Anna.

  Sighing, he stood up from the bed and quickly made his way out the panel door, leaving it ajar so that she would be able to find her way out. With any luck, she would run straight to her husband with news of his improper behavior. Then Michael Cunningham would show his true feelings for his wife.

  And if not, Edward Seward was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

  “Might I have a word with you?” Olivia asked quietly as she stood in the doorway to her husband’s bedchamber. Her heart was beating so rapidly, she barely heard his, “Of course,” as he waved her in and motioned to a chair near the fireplace. Was that a look of surprise she saw on his face? It was there and gone so quickly.

  Michael nodded to Jeffers, who had been helping him dress for dinner, and the butler left the room, closing the door behind him. This is unexpected, he thought, surprised she would visit him in his bedchamber when they were due for drinks in the library in a few minutes. “What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw how distraught she looked. Her red-rimmed eyes were evidence of a good cry, and a very recent one at that. He was buttoning his waistcoat but stopped and moved to stand in front of her.

  Olivia found herself unable to speak. Should she first tell him about his mother? Or about the wedding gift from the duchess? Or about Edward’s proposition? She took a deep breath and set her shoulders.

  In order of discovery, she decided.

  “I bought a ball gown today,” she started to explain, not making eye contact with her husband.

  Letting out a breath he’d held too long, Michael said, “Oh,” with a profound sense of relief. “You told them to have the bill sent to me, I hope?” he added lightly, thinking that perhaps she was concerned about the cost. Or perhaps she had decided she didn’t like the gown or thought that he wouldn’t like the gown. He was about to ask when Olivia raised her eyes to meet his.

 
“The same modiste is making a gown for Lady Cunningham for the Harvey ball.”

  Michael stared at his wife, his mouth closing suddenly. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I was not aware my mother would be back in town ... at least, in time for the Harvey ball,” he said quietly, his tone of voice not indicating if he was pleased or not with the news.

  “So, then the seamstresses were discussing ... Michael Cunningham’s new wife..,” she stammered, trying hard to make sense. “And they made a comment about needing to ask Lady Cunningham who she ... who I was.” When Michael’s expression didn’t change, she added, “I would rather your mother not be put in such an awkward position,” she finally got out, still having a hard time raising her eyes to meet his.

  Her husband regarded her for a moment, suddenly realizing how awkward it had to be for Olivia to be the subject of a discussion among gossips at a modiste. Leaning over to kiss her forehead, Michael gave her a reassuring pat on her shoulder. “I sent a note to my mother last Saturday letting her know of our wedding, but I rather doubt it’s had time to reach her,” he replied quietly. “You have nothing to be concerned about, though,” he added with a shake of his head. “Even though I promised her I would be married by this Friday, she will be so happy I have married, she will hardly give you notice.”

  Damn! That didn’t sound right, he realized before he even finished the sentence.

  Olivia bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Oh,” she replied, hoping that would indeed be the case. But when had he made the promise that he’d be married by Friday? And why Friday? she wondered. What had the note from the duchess said about a deadline?

  “I will be sure my mother is informed this very evening,” he promised, although she probably already knows everything, he figured. Now that the seamstresses were in the know, news of their marriage would spread quickly.