“Thank you,” Olivia said with a watery smile. “I understand from Jeffers that she usually is accommodated in the bedchamber that I am using ...”
“She’ll stay at the house on Cavendish Square, of course,” Michael interrupted quickly. “There’s no need for you to vacate your room,” he assured her, thinking that was her only concern. He was tempted to ask her why she wasn’t using the purple room when he resumed buttoning up his waistcoat.
“Oh. Thank you,” she replied with a bit of relief. One down, two to go, she thought. “We received a wedding gift from the Duchess of Somerset today,” she stated, forcing her voice to sound light. “She commissioned a crystal bowl from Waterford’s studio.” She watched for Michael’s reaction and was not disappointed by his surprise.
Michael turned to regard her with a raised eyebrow. “And it’s already arrived?” he asked in disbelief. “Well, Elizabeth is quite resourceful,” he murmured as he turned his attention back to his reflection in the cheval mirror.
Elizabeth? He’d used the duchess’s first name as if he knew her intimately. Had she been a mistress of his in the past? Were they still involved with one another? “Yes,” Olivia nodded. “’Tis quite beautiful. I left it on the fireplace mantle in the library. The footman who delivered it said it took Waterford a week to fill Her Grace’s order,” she added, hoping he would understand why she seemed disturbed. “Which is quite interesting since I only wrote her a note last Thursday morning to inform her I would not be able to fill the position of governess.”
Pressing his lips together, Michael looked away, suddenly realizing why Olivia was so concerned. And probably confused. He wondered how much to tell his wife. Do I tell her I’ve known for years that she would be my wife? That I simply ran out of time and ruined her in order to gain a quick marriage without having to court her and take time to plan an elaborate wedding? “I wrote Her Grace a note when I made arrangements...,” he started to say and then stopped. “I made a promise and ..,” he stammered, trying to figure out how much to tell her. Don’t be a damned coward, he thought, still not sure where to start.
“To my father?” she wondered, remembering how happy the man had been after his meeting with Michael the morning after he’d found them together in her bed.
“Arrangements with him, yes, and the promise to my mother that I would be married before I turned twenty-eight,” he admitted finally, not elaborating on either.
Still a bit confused by the timing but realizing he wasn’t going to tell her more, Olivia sighed. “The footman waited while I wrote a thank you note,” she commented. “I hope it was alright that I used a sheet of your parchment.”
Michael pulled a long white length of linen from the counterpane and began folding it. “Of course,” he replied absently, placing the cravat around the back of his neck and arranging the folds evenly.
“There was a seal on the desk with the letters ‘OWC’ carved into it,” Olivia continued, holding her hands as still as she could in her lap. “I hope it was alright that I used it to seal the letter.”
Pausing in his wrapping the cravat around his neck, Michael regarded Olivia for a moment. “Of course it was. I bought that seal for you several ... when I was last at my stationer’s,” he faltered, not wanting to admit it was the first item he’d purchased for her after his talk with his sister.
“It was very kind of you to do so. Thank you,” Olivia said, a bit heartened that he would do such a thing. She suddenly remembered the keys to the townhouse and to a house in Cavendish Square he’d given her at the coaching inn. Had he given her his own keys then? Or had he already had them made for her? She shook her head, needing to ask him one more question. “May I ask what arrangements you have with your mistress?” she asked then, trying to make her voice sound as calm as possible.
Michael stared at her, a red flush coloring his face. He looked away and then scrubbed his face with a hand. “I don’t have any arrangements ...”
“Tuesday nights?” she countered, With my sister, she almost added, but she set her lips in a thin line before the words could come out.
“I will not discuss this with you,” he stated quickly, feeling a bit defensive and suddenly very embarrassed. He began the task of tying the ends of the cravat it into some kind of acceptable knot. Eloisa promised she would not say anything about our arrangement, he fumed. How could she? He remembered an appointment he’d made at the jewelers, though, and thought it best to tell Olivia now so she wouldn’t think the worst if he didn’t show for dinner. Tomorrow is Tuesday. “I probably will not be home for dinner tomorrow,” he said more calmly. “I have an appointment in Ludgate Hill and may not make it home by eight.”
Olivia swallowed hard, finding it hard to believe that Michael would deny having a mistress and then tell her in the next sentence that he was going to be late on the very night of his weekly affaire! Feeling spiteful, she countered, “I only wonder because Mr. Seward has asked me to be his mistress.” She almost immediately felt regret at having made the comment, sure it would incite anger in her husband.
Michael pulled on the ends of the cravat so tightly he nearly choked himself. He stared at Olivia for at least five seconds before he said, “Come again?” A rather large weight had suddenly fallen somewhere inside him, and he was having a very hard time breathing even as he loosened the cravat from around his neck.
Sighing, as much to calm herself as to take in a breath, Olivia repeated, “Mr. Seward has asked me to be his mistress.” After a short pause, she added, “Tuesday nights. I do not believe he was ... sincere in his request, though,” she started to explain, but Michael was out the door before she could finish. “Nor do I intend to take him up on his ...”
Olivia followed her husband through the hall and down the steps, careful to hold her skirts up so that she wouldn’t trip in her haste. “Michael, he is your friend. Please, do not hurt him,” she pleaded as she hurried to keep up with his long stride and quick descent down the staircase.
“And why shouldn’t I?” he responded, his agitation increasing as he landed at the bottom of the stairs. He turned to look up at her. “You are my wife! I love you, and he has dishonored you. And he was my best friend!” he continued, his voice rising with each point he made. “Whatever possessed him to think he could take you as his mistress? You don’t even look like Anna!”
Olivia stared at him as he turned to go down the hall in pursuit of Edward. “Oh,” she whispered as one hand went to her mouth and another went to her stomach; she held it as if she’d been punched with a roundhouse blow.
His words had been that forcibly delivered.
“Well, in that case, I suppose you should have a word with him,” she said uncertainly, backing up against the wall across from the library door and slumping into the nearest chair.
I love you. Had he really said that? she wondered as she tried to remember all the words he had spoken since they had left his room. He loves me.
“Jeffers!” Michael called out. As usual, the butler was nearby, trying hard not to overhear his master’s tirade.
“Yes, Mr. Cunningham?”
“Where is Mr. Seward?”
The butler’s lips pressed into a thin line. “In the library, sir. I believe he’s expecting you,” he said quietly, wondering if he should offer to retrieve a glove or ask about sending for a doctor.
Michael nodded, gave Olivia a quick glance, and then burst through the library door. “I have a mind to beat you to a bloody pulp!” he yelled, his face red with anger and his fists balled up as if he would follow through on the threat with the least provocation.
Edward stood up from where he sat in an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace. He crossed his arms and regarded his best friend, a spiteful grin on his face. “And why is that?” he wondered, obviously proud of himself. At Michael’s stunned expression, he added, “Because I made you face the fact that you love your
wife?”
Michael fumed as he moved closer to where Edward stood and then stopped quite suddenly, aware that the man was right next to the fire poker. Given Edward’s fencing skills, he could use it very effectively if need be. Edward stood his ground as Michael replied, “I am very aware of my feelings for my wife,” he whispered hoarsely. “What you did was ... reprehensible!”
Rolling his eyes, Edward shook his head. “It wasn’t as if she was going to agree to the arrangement I proposed, you dunderhead,” he countered, his humor disappearing.
“And what if she had?” Michael replied quickly, wondering if maybe she had considered it before coming to him with the news. He certainly hadn’t shown her any interest beyond the few stolen moments in her bedchamber that morning.
It serves me right if she went looking for affection in some other man’s bed.
Edward stared at Michael for a brief moment, remembering that Olivia might have taken him up on his offer. What would I have done then? he wondered. “I would not have continued the charade, I assure you,” Edward replied with a shake of his head. “As you said, she doesn’t look a bit like Anna, and she knows it, and, well, ... she is not a wanton woman....” He allowed the sentence to trail off as he hung his head. “I am sorry,” he said finally. “But, I fail to see why you would keep a mistress ...
“For the last time, Seward, I do not have a mistress!”
“... When you have this very pretty wife who I believe loves you dearly.” He paused a moment, just then realizing what Michael had said. “You don’t have a mistress?” he repeated in surprise.
Michael sighed audibly. “No! I never did! And even if I did, I wouldn’t have one now. I am a married man!”
Edward took a step back, nearly falling into the fireplace. He struggled to maintain his balance and regarded Michael with a raised brow. “Oh. Then ... Then why do you treat her as if she is merely a part of a business deal?” he accused, finally making eye contact with Michael.
At his friend’s suddenly guilty expression, Edward’s brows furrowed as he realized something. A puzzle piece in his head seemed to drop into place as he studied Michael. “She was part of a business deal, wasn’t she?” he queried, his own anger suddenly surfacing. “You bastard!” And after another second, his face screwed up in confusion. “You no longer have a mistress?”
Michael caught his breath as he heard his friend’s words, regretting having told Edward the details of his marriage deal with Harold Waterford. His large hands flexed and he sank into the nearest couch, the fight going out of him. “Her dowry ...” he started to say and then stopped, redirecting his attention to Edward. “What did she tell you?” he asked suddenly, wondering if perhaps Harold Waterford had told his daughter about the financial arrangements he’d offered as part of the deal to marry her off. But knowing what he did of the man, he was sure he hadn’t even told Olivia about his plans for her to marry Michael, let alone any financial arrangements.
Cocking his head to one side and a bit relieved that Michael wasn’t about to pulverize his face, Edward took the chair he had vacated earlier. “She told me nothing, my friend.” When Michael gave him a confused glance, he added, “She didn’t have to. It’s apparent every time she looks at you. She adores you, probably even loves you ... you dunderhead,” he continued, hoping to drive home the point.
“She does not ... despise me?” Michael whispered, thinking the woman had every right. He had been her sister’s protector. His insistence on keeping his promise to his mother had forced Olivia into this marriage without benefit of being courted. He hadn’t even asked for her hand in marriage! His behavior since their wedding was ... What was Olivia trying to say when we were interrupted this morning? he wondered as he scrubbed his face with his hands.
Edward sighed loudly. “She should,” he claimed angrily. “She has every right to despise you, you rake. She should go straight to the nearest magistrate and request your marriage be deemed null and void.”
A hurt expression suddenly on his face, Michael stared at Edward. “But, she cannot. I ... I ruined her,” he stated with a curt nod. “She cannot marry another,” he insisted with a shake of his head. “I will not allow it.”
Edward’s face took on a look of surprise. “You say that as if you ruined her deliberately,” he accused, obviously not remembering when Michael had explained what happened that night. Edward was quite drunk, after all. Edward’s eyes widened and he stared at Michael for a long moment. “Oh, my God, you did do it deliberately, didn’t you?” he whispered, not quite believing that his friend could do such a thing unless he was completely foxed or a candidate for an extended stay at Bedlam.
Michael stood up, his anger returning. “Take that back,” he threatened, his fists coming up.
Edward remained in the chair and kept his gaze on Michael. “I will not,” he countered, feeling a sense of bravery he hadn’t felt in at least the past week. He’d rehearsed over and over in his head how he was going to take the punch to his face.
Well, he was prepared, he decided.
He hoped his jaw wouldn’t break. His nose, well, it would heal, he figured. And he had no appointments scheduled for the coming week, so there would be time to be bedridden with a broken rib or two.
When he returned his attention to Michael, he found his friend staring into space, as if he was deep in thought. Planning my funeral already, is he? Edward thought quickly, wondering if he could make it to the library door before one of those fists made contact with his body. I can outrun him, he thought with a smile. I don’t know where I’d go...
“I have to take a walk,” Michael announced before he turned and left the library, closing the door behind him.
Edward stared after him, the stunned expression on his face remaining for several minutes after he heard the distant click of a front door closing.
When the library door opened again, he looked up to find Olivia staring at him, her hands wringing together. He stood up quickly, intending to bow.
“You took a very risky chance for my benefit,” she whispered, a mixed look of shock and relief on her face.
Edward tried to appear calm even though he knew that he had barely escaped Michael’s retribution. “Indeed. But I think it was worth it. And for your sake, I hope it was,” he said with an impish grin, his face coloring as he realized Olivia and probably half the household staff had overheard the entire exchange.
The library door was wide open during the argument.
“I think ... no, I am quite sure that I met your Anna today,” Olivia stated as she moved to take the chair across from his. “She is a very beautiful woman.”
Stunned at the comment, Edward stared at her. “Indeed?” he replied, his breaths suddenly coming faster. He sat down. Hard. “And did she ... did she seem to be in good health?” he wondered, his eyes darting about the room.
“She did. She mentioned wishing she was married to you, in fact,” Olivia said quietly. She took a deep breath, not sure if she should say what she’d been thinking while she waited in the hallway. “I know it is none of my business, Mr. Seward, but may I inquire as to why you are not already married to her?”
Edward slumped in his chair and finally glanced at Olivia. “My family ... As a second son, I had an obligation to the earldom,” he replied with a sigh, his eyes leaving Olivia’s to focus on other objects in the room. “At least until my brother married and sired an heir.” He could not bring himself to make eye contact with Olivia, his embarrassment at his earlier charade still apparent.
Olivia nodded her understanding. “Has your brother taken an acceptable wife?” she queried, her voice very gentle as she continued her line of questions.
“Oh, yes,” Edward answered with a nod. “About a year ago, in fact. Penelope Winstead. She is the daughter of the Earl of Heatherington. Very suited to the role, and very pretty,” he stated enthusiastically. “But not as beaut
iful as my Anna,” he added in a whisper, his gaze full of fondness and longing.
“And is Lady Seward will child?” Olivia wondered.
Edward’s gaze fell on the fireplace. “She bore a son last week, so my obligation as a spare heir has ended,” he stated firmly.
Olivia leaned her head to one side. “So, you are free to marry your choice of bride now.”
“I am,” Edward agreed. “But my Anna disappeared a year ago, and I have been searching for her ever since,” he explained.
“And, if you found her, would you marry her?” Olivia asked as she moved to the sideboard and poured him a glass of brandy.
Edward finally made eye contact with Olivia. “Of course,” he answered simply as he took the glass and gave her a nod.
Olivia smiled then. “She is a seamstress at Madame Suzanne’s modiste in New Bond Street. Go there now. Ask for her hand. Get a special license ...”
“I have one of those,” he interrupted, holding up a finger in the air. At her raised eyebrow, Edward shrugged. “I believe it is common practice for sons of earls to have such things,” he explained proudly. “They are sort of issued to us so we’re spared the reading of the banns. They last three months, too!”
And apparently they’re issued to the sons of viscounts, as well, Olivia thought with a smirk, remembering that she and Michael had been able to marry because he had one.
He had to get married before next Friday, he’d said. But given what she’d seen in her father’s library the day before Michael’s visit to her room, she was sure Eloisa was his intended. And yet, just moments ago, he’d announced that he loved me.
She was suddenly aware of Edward’s attention on her, as if he was waiting for the rest of her advice. “Marry her, Edward.” She poured a glass of claret for herself. “I would like very much to have another woman around with whom I can learn how to be an aristocrat’s wife.”
Edward nodded. “What else do I need?” he asked suddenly.
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