by Julia London
Her ladyship said nothing, but sat quietly brooding as Nancy finished her hair. When she was done, Lady Carey stood and looked at herself in the mirror for a long time. She was wearing a gown that looked almost as if it were spun gold. It hugged her bodice tightly, and with his lordship away, Lady Carey had foregone the bit of taffeta that she generally wore as a modest collar. Tonight her décolletage was powdered and perfumed, and a pair of diamonds dangled from her earlobes. If she’d donned a coronet, she’d look like a princess. “Very pretty, mu’um,” Nancy said admiringly.
“Thank you.” Lady Carey gave Nancy a ghost of a smile before she went out, the train of her gown trailing behind her.
Nancy smiled to herself as she began to tidy up the room. The entire estate waited on tenterhooks for Lady Carey to provide an heir, and wouldn’t it be nice to have a baby toddling about? She could scarcely wait to tell Miss Foster and Mrs. Perry what she suspected.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The red salon seemed empty without Edward’s oppressive presence. He had a tendency to suck the air from the room. Olivia was required to meet him here each evening before supper; Edward liked her to embroider while he read his newspapers. It did not matter to him that Olivia had never taken to needlework, or that her creations generally required some repair by Mrs. Perry, or even that neither of them had any desire to be in the other’s company. Edward believed it was what married couples should do.
Tonight, Olivia was alone with the footman Bruce, who stood silently beside the sideboard in case she required anything.
Olivia pressed her hands to her abdomen as she walked across the room. Breathe, damn you. She couldn’t seem to find her bearings after what had happened this afternoon.
“Olivia!”
The sound of Alexa’s voice calling to her from the hallway set Olivia’s nerves on edge. She swallowed, took another deep breath, and turned around just as Alexa came hurrying in.
“There you are! Where have you been? I looked for you earlier and I could not find you.”
Olivia’s pulse fluttered with the realization that Alexa could have seen her with Mr. Tolly. Merciful heaven, all of Everdon Court could have seen them! So reckless, so foolish. “Ah . . . I had some correspondence.” She saw the footman glance at her, then look away again. Did he know she lied?
“I must speak to you, Livi,” Alexa said. “I have something I must say.”
If Alexa’s anxious demeanor was any indication, she had, yet again, something dreadful to impart, and Olivia wanted to scream. “Bruce, if you would, a bit of wine,” Olivia said. “Alexa, please do not vex me this evening,” she said quietly as Bruce turned to the sideboard. “I’ve had quite enough for one day.”
“Vex you?” Alexa repeated, as if she were surprised by the notion that she could be vexing. “No, Livi, I do not mean to vex you.” At Olivia’s dubious look, she sighed. “All right, I suppose I can hardly blame you for that. I am aware that I have been wretched. I want to apologize for it.”
An apology was the last thing Olivia expected from Alexa, who had never been very keen on them. Her sister was decidedly unapologetic. She must have been gaping in disbelief, for Alexa said a bit tetchily, “Must you seem so shocked?”
“I am shocked,” Olivia said. “And I cannot help but wonder what has brought on this sudden change.”
“As it happens, I have had some time to think.” She paused as Bruce handed Olivia a glass of wine, then took Olivia by the elbow and led her across the room to a window seat. She glanced at Bruce again, and whispered, “I am sorry, Livi. I have no excuse for it, really, other than I’ve not been ready to accept that I . . .” She leaned in so that she could whisper in Olivia’s ear. “That I cannot marry the father.”
Olivia perked up at that—Alexa had been loath to mention him at all. “But are you certain, Alexa?” she whispered, seizing the moment. “I’ve been thinking . . . what if we sent for him? Perhaps if we offered—”
“No,” Alexa said sternly and squeezed Olivia’s hand. She glanced anxiously at the footman.
“Thank you, Bruce,” Olivia said. “You may leave us.”
With a nod of his head, he went out.
“All right, then,” Olivia said. “I will ask you again, Alexa. Can’t we send for this man? Should we not appeal to him on the grounds of his moral responsibility?”
“No!” Alexa exclaimed.
“For heaven’s sake, why not?”
“I know that is what you want,” Alexa said impatiently. “Do you not think that is what I want, as well? Of course I do! But my acquaintance with him is . . .” She bit her lips and looked down. “It is surely not as you must imagine it.”
“How I imagine it?” Olivia echoed crossly. “This man has put a child in you and therefore bears a responsibility, whether you or he want to admit it! I think it a much better solution than any other we’ve thought of thus far.”
“I understand—”
“You do not understand!” Olivia said. “If you understood anything at all you would tell me more, tell me his name, so that I might at least help you—”
“No,” Alexa said firmly, and stood.
“That is so very like you,” Olivia said angrily.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that your consideration for your own desires outweighs those of everyone else.”
“I resent that!” Alexa said. “I have my reasons.”
“What reasons?” Olivia exclaimed heavenward.
“And that is so very like you, Olivia. So superior and sure of yourself.”
“In this I am very sure,” Olivia said. “If he is a decent man, he will—”
“Will you please stop this, Olivia? I know without question that his situation will not allow him to help me.”
Olivia sighed and looked out the window. It was what she’d suspected all along. “He is married, then.”
Alexa made a sound of displeasure and whirled around, marching to the sideboard. “Do you want to hear what I have come to tell you, or not?”
“Of course I do,” Olivia said wearily, and hoped to God it was something simple.
Alexa braced her hands on the sideboard. “I have come to the realization that you are right, and I do need your help.”
“Thank God for that.”
Alexa turned around. “And that you were quite right about Mr. Tolly,” she continued. “He has done me an incredible kindness.”
Something twisted deep inside Olivia. Surely Alexa did not mean—
“I am trying to say that Harry and I have agreed—”
Olivia suddenly couldn’t breathe. She surged to her feet and looked around, uncertain where to go to avoid hearing what she instinctively knew Alexa would say. What had happened? What bolt of lightning had suddenly struck to change Alexa’s heart?
“We have agreed that in the absence of any other option, my best course is to marry. He and I have discussed it—”
“What? When?”
“Today,” Alexa said, taken slightly aback. “This afternoon. Why do you ask?”
“Just . . . go on,” she said tightly, and braced her hands on the window casing.
“There’s really not much left to say, is there? I realize you would have preferred to put me in some old widow’s home, tucked away from society, but I prefer this. At least I might have some semblance of a life.”
She would have a life? What of Mr. Tolly?
“Harry seems kind, and he is physically appealing—”
“Must you call him Harry?” Olivia interrupted. “Even I am not so familiar with him, and I’ve known him many years. I have seen him every day of my married life and I have never called him by his given name.”
“If I am to be married, I cannot always address him as Mr. Tolly,” Alexa said with a shrug. “And we agreed that we must put ourselves on familiar terms if there is any hope that we might grow to affection.”
Oh, that dagger to her heart, knifed cleanly and all the way through. Olivia closed her ey
es. “He said that?”
“They were not his exact words, but that was surely his sentiment.”
So while Olivia had lain on the floor of the nursery fighting an overwhelming desire for him, mourning him, Harrison Tolly had been promising a future to her sister.
Her heart had just been rent wide open.
“Livi, please,” Alexa said behind her. “I am endeavoring to do as you wish.”
There was nothing Olivia could say. Alexa was doing exactly what Olivia had counseled her to do. But that was before this afternoon, when Olivia had known a moment of bliss so pure and deep. Yet it was only a moment—she’d gotten on the wrong boat floating down the river of her life several years ago. The boat she wanted was on the opposite shore, but the current was too strong, and there was no reaching it.
Gather yourself! Olivia swallowed. She pressed her hand against the cool windowpane and said, “It is indeed the best option we have. And I think you will be happy in spite of the circumstances. Mr. Tolly is . . . He is . . .” He is everything. He was her security, the one person she could look forward to seeing every day. He was laughter and light in her dark world. He was her happy dream.
“Well, at present, he is right here,” Alexa said casually.
Olivia hadn’t heard him come in, but when she turned, there he was, standing just inside the door, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked . . . virile. Desirable. And pained.
“My sister was on the verge of saying something complimentary about you,” Alexa said and turned to the sideboard to resume her examination of the bottles there. “However, she seems to find herself a bit tongue-tied with my change of heart. I seem to have astounded everyone today.”
“It was a rather astounding turn of events, to be sure.” Mr. Tolly’s gaze locked with Olivia’s.
“Let it never be said that Alexa Hastings doesn’t see her way around to what is best,” Alexa said, and poured water. “Whiskey, or . . . port, perhaps, Harry? I suppose I ought to learn what you drink in the evenings.”
“Whiskey,” Olivia said softly.
Alexa looked at her with surprise. She smiled. “I assume you are referring to Harry’s preference and not your own?”
“A whiskey will do nicely,” Mr. Tolly said, and started for the sideboard. “Allow me.”
Alexa moved away. “Have you recovered from your astonishment, Livi? Might we speak of the arrangements now?”
Arrangements. That sounded so . . . final. Olivia sank onto a chair.
“I was thinking perhaps a small affair, here at Everdon Court,” Alexa said lightly.
“Impossible,” Olivia muttered.
“Why?” Alexa asked.
“I should think that the marquis would not care for it,” Mr. Tolly said evenly. “Perhaps you might think of something smaller.”
“How small?”
“The two of us.”
Alexa snorted. “Without even Olivia? Or a friend or two?”
“I think, given the nature of our . . . union,” Mr. Tolly said, as if searching for the right word, “we should go to Scotland and take care of things quietly.”
Dear God, he meant to do it straightaway. Olivia averted her gaze. She could not look at him now and think of him hurrying off to Scotland to marry Alexa.
Nor could Alexa, apparently. “Scotland!” she exclaimed. “I had thought we might go about this as normally as possible. Not elope!”
“We must remove ourselves from public.” Mr. Tolly sounded calm, but Olivia could hear a bit of tension in his voice.
Alexa didn’t have an opportunity to complain, for Brock entered at that moment and informed them that supper was served.
“Thank heaven. I am famished. May we continue this as we dine?” Alexa asked, and walked out behind Brock, seemingly oblivious to Olivia’s hesitation and to the tension in Mr. Tolly’s jaw.
Mr. Tolly was not oblivious, however. His eyes moved over Olivia’s face as if he had not seen her in an age. He looked as if he wanted to speak. Olivia could feel her defenses eroding already, her body warming.
He held out his arm to her as he’d done a thousand times before. Olivia hesitated; she was afraid to touch him, but just as afraid to let the opportunity for at least a small bit of contact pass. She laid her hand lightly on his arm. He instantly covered her hand with his, slipped his fingers beneath hers, and lightly stroked the inside of her wrist.
It was hardly anything at all, but it reverberated through her body. Somehow, she managed to walk to the dining room at his side. With her gaze straight ahead, Mr. Tolly caressed her wrist down that long hallway.
In the dining room, Alexa was already seated. Mr. Tolly handed Olivia into a chair. “The soup smells divine,” Alexa said as Brock ladled soup into their bowls. He went out, carrying the tureen.
Alexa picked up her spoon and sampled the dish, then put her spoon down. “Olivia,” she said, as she idly traced the scroll pattern on the silver, “you undoubtedly agree with Harry that it is best we go to Scotland, but won’t everyone in Everdon speculate as to the need for such haste? I should think it would produce more scandal where we might avoid it.”
“It wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference if we were married at Westminster Abbey, Alexa,” Mr. Tolly said patiently. “The moment the vows are said there will be speculation, since there is only one reason to marry with such haste. Furthermore, it will not be long before anyone who sees you will understand the reason for it.”
Alexa blushed and looked plaintively at Olivia. “All right, I understand, I do, but this is the only wedding I shall ever have. I should like at least a small affair.”
“You may have your small affair upon our return,” Mr. Tolly said firmly. “When you are very married and thus incapable of causing any more harm to the reputations of everyone around you.”
Alexa looked again to Olivia like a child looking for a different answer from another parent. Olivia wanted to name a thousand reasons why Alexa and Mr. Tolly could not possibly marry. But now was not the time to mope. She could nurse her wounds later.
She put her spoon down. “Perhaps there is a way to cast this situation so it does not look entirely . . . disgraceful,” she said carefully.
“I would welcome any suggestions,” Mr. Tolly said dryly.
Olivia glanced at her soup bowl. “I think we simply say that the two of you had occasion to meet and it was love at first sight.” She managed to say it without choking on the words. Mr. Tolly looked away. “And that as we had no idea how long the marquis would be away, you could not bear to wait. It is a . . . love story.” Her heart was breaking. “We might invite a few ladies for tea and plant the seed,” she added as an afterthought. Dear God, was she actually saying these words?
Alexa mulled it over, then smiled. “I think it is a splendid idea, Livi.”
“There, then, Alexa, you have your explanation,” Mr. Tolly said. “Now let us discuss when we will make the trip to Gretna Green.”
Alexa and Mr. Tolly proceeded to speak of it as Olivia picked at her meal. She noticed that the familiarity between Mr. Tolly and Alexa was not limited to names; they’d struck up some sort of friendship at the dowager house, the sort of acquaintance where they might have an intimate discussion such as this without inhibition. Olivia tried to convince herself that their familiarity was good and necessary. The situation was difficult enough as it was; they needed a certain comfort with each other to weather it.
When Olivia had married Edward, she’d been timid, uncertain when to ask questions, when to speak her mind. As a result, she’d always felt anxious around him.
What a young little fool she had been.
What a hardened woman she was now.
Her private and deeply personal loss keened through her, swelling in every vein. Mr. Tolly had been her friend, her confidante, and she would never have that again. Because of their kiss, she would now always be cautious, careful not to reveal too much. Because of Alexa, Olivia could never reveal her true feelings to a
nyone. It was a devil of a place to be, frightened of being alone in Mr. Tolly’s company, and frightened that she never would be again.
The worst torture of all would be to watch her sister grow and bear Mr. Tolly’s children, while she wasted away at Everdon Court with a brute of a husband.
“Is the meal not to your liking, Livi?”
“Pardon?”
Alexa looked at Olivia’s plate. “We’ve been nattering on about the arrangements, and there you are staring at your lamb. I will agree it is not the best roast Miss Foster has made.”
“There is nothing wrong with the lamb. I simply do not have much of an appetite.”
“Oh, Livi,” Alexa said sympathetically. “I know how difficult this is for you, but I do mean to put it all to rights, straightaway.” She patted Olivia’s hand.
Olivia smiled thinly, looked at her plate, and imagined hurling it across the room. “Have you decided when you will depart, then?” she forced herself to ask.
“Not yet. I shall need at least a few days to gather my wits about me and put together a trousseau,” Alexa said.
A trousseau. Good Lord.
“I should think by week’s end,” Mr. Tolly said quietly.
“So soon?” Alexa asked, forcing a smile.
“Have you forgotten that you’ve agreed to abide by my decisions until we are certain that the scandal has been held to an absolute minimum?”
“I did not realize that extended to my wedding.”
“It begins with your wedding,” he reminded her.
Alexa opened her mouth to argue, but quickly closed it. She glanced at Olivia from the corner of her eye. “All right, then. To assure you I will be as dutiful a wife as any woman is meant to be, I will agree.”
Mr. Tolly said nothing. He turned his attention back to his meal. Olivia couldn’t help noticing that he’d not eaten much, either. Alexa, bless her, seemed entirely incognizant of the strain around that table. She was too occupied in her attempt to put as much dignity and pageantry to her wedding as possible given the unfortunate circumstances, and chattering to fill the silence around her.
