“No, I am afraid we do not,” replied the duchess, and at these words, all the women relaxed with a sort of annoyed disappointment playing over their faces.
“Well, when he returns,” continued Lady Denham, “doubtless he will resume his position and begin seeking out a wife.”
Olivia noticed Lady Lillian was growing tense with embarrassment at her mother’s side.
“She will be a fine lady, of course,” said Lady Denham. “Like my Lillian.”
“Mama, please,” begged Lillian, but it was to no avail. Lady Denham continued her shameless promotion of her daughter.
“Lillian is well educated in all things a proper young lady requires to be a successful wife. Indeed the only apparent fault she has is her endless novel-reading.” She paused to laugh haughtily. “I’ve tried and tried to break her of such a dreadful habit, but it seems the only way I shall be successful is if I — ”
“That reminds me, Lady Lillian,” interrupted the duchess, “I have been meaning to return your copy of The Prince and His Lady, and to tell you that I found it to be most enjoyable.”
Lady Denham’s face turned red with embarrassment as every other lady in the room hid mocking smiles behind their teacups and gloved hands. Olivia found the whole scene to be amusing. Not only had she been left alone, but now she was witnessing the social demise of a stuffy old trout. It was fantastic.
“Do you have something to say, Miss Winter?”
Olivia, who at that moment was about to take a sip of her tea, froze instantly at the question. Apparently she had laughed a bit too loudly.
“N-No, my lady,” Olivia managed to say.
“Well, you seemed so enraptured with our conversation just now that I thought you might have something to add.”
All eyes turned to Olivia. If the ladies of the room had enjoyed Lady Denham’s demise, they were equally if not more entertained by her attempt to turn the attention away from her own blunder.
“Do you?” Lady Denham pressed.
Olivia struggled for words. She could see amused smiles forming on a few faces as the seconds ticked by. Lady Lillian and Lady Amelia remained silent, both with looks of anxiety on their faces. Were they hoping that she would find a way out of this awkward situation?
“Well, I … ,” Olivia began, but she still came up short. Lady Denham’s expression was growing sinister and predatory. She was going to pounce at any moment and tear Olivia apart if she failed to produce a statement. Did the duchess like her enough to save her from such a fate? Olivia hoped the woman did, but not wanting to rely on that, she pressed on with trying to find a response.
“What I mean is … you see there are so many things that can be said at this moment … and I … uh …”
“Then say one of them,” said Lady Denham. “You clearly have a wonderful way with words. You should write poetry.”
“Mama, please,” said Lady Lillian. “Miss Winter is — ”
“Hush, Lillian,” hissed Lady Denham. “Miss Winter can speak for herself. Can you not, my dear?”
More amused smiles spread over even more faces.
“Indeed I can,” said Olivia. “In fact I was about to say just now that — ”
But suddenly Rivers emerged and announced Lord Philip’s arrival.
Oh, thank God thought Olivia as Lord Philip entered the room. She was saved, as no marriage-hungry mother or daughter would pay attention to her when a single, respectable man was around.
“Philip, darling!” cried the duchess. “How lovely to see you. Do come and sit down.”
“I’m afraid I cannot, Mama,” said Philip, eyeing the occupants of the room with great suspicion and wariness. “I … I was hoping to have a word with … Oh,” he said when he spotted Olivia. “I’ve already had tea.”
“Well, then, why not join us for a walk through the park. I was just about to suggest we all take one.”
“But it is so cold outside, your grace,” said one of the ladies. “Perhaps a game of cards?”
“Nonsense,” said the duchess. “It isn’t unbearably cold and I want fresh air. Anyone who does not wish to go may stay here and when I return we shall begin a game of piquet. Do come and walk with us, Philip.”
After a moment of obvious internal struggle, which involved several looks backward as though he were wishing to run and escape, Philip agreed to walk.
“Splendid,” said the duchess. “Amelia, you and Lady Lillian may walk together. I have something I wish to discuss with Lady Denham.”
At these words Lady Denham was beside herself with excitement. The duchess had singled her out of the group. Oh, how special she must be.
“Would not Lord Philip prefer to walk with Lillian?” asked Lady Denham. “Their personalities are so similar and they would have such a pleasant walk, I think.”
Apparently Lady Denham would take any man for her daughter as long as he had grand connections. Obviously the future duke was the ideal choice, but heaven knew when he would be back. Lord Philip was here now.
“I’d rather walk with Miss Winter.”
“Philip will walk with Miss Winter.”
The duchess and Lord Philip said these words at the same time, drawing a few curious looks from the crowd. Lord Philip ignored the scene and extended his arm to Olivia.
“Miss Winter,” he said.
Olivia took his arm self-consciously. She had not yet been outside today, so she had no idea if it were cold or not. But even if it was cold out, she imagined the scorching looks from all the ladies around her should keep her warm enough.
• • •
The day was pleasant. At least he could say that. The air was crisp and cold, but the sun was warm enough to compensate. Olivia, on the other hand, did not appear to be warmed by the sun’s rays. She walked alongside him, her hand in the crook of his arm, but she did not speak. She stared off to the side as they strolled down the pathway, obviously refusing to speak to him at all.
Mad again, he thought.
He figured she might behave this way — cold and distant. It was her way when she was upset, he had come to learn, and she had a right to be. He had kissed her a second time, only to leave her stranded alone in a dark kitchen, half-aroused, and with a bad cup of cold tea. And then he had deserted her entirely, having left the house two days later under the cover of the dark early morning.
But he had to leave her then. He had needed to leave the Hall as well. How could he be in her presence when lately his desire for her compelled him to foolish actions? He had rushed to London to procure a ring. He knew he couldn’t go on any longer wanting her from afar. There was no point fighting it. He loved her, he wanted her, and above all, he needed her. They would marry … just as soon as he could get her to speak to him.
Philip toyed with the ring in his waistcoat. “It’s quite cold out,” he said.
“Hmm …” replied Olivia.
“Are you quite warm, Miss Winter?” he asked after another moment of silence.
“Quite,” she answered tersely.
“Because we could return if you would like.”
“I’m sure you would prefer that, would you not, Lord Philip?”
“Sorry?”
“You want to get away from me as quickly as possible. I’m so sorry you were tricked into being my escort. This must be such an imposition for you.”
“Why do you think I want to get away from you, Miss Winter?”
“You certainly took to your heels fast enough in Dorset, after your…your improper advances.”
“Miss Winter, I had to,” said Philip.
“Because of me,” she said. “Am I really so terrible? Why did you abandon me like that? I thought for certain I had repulsed you in some way.”
“You’re right,” Philip interrupted suddenly, stopping their walk in the middle of the path to face her.
“Excuse me?”
“No, no, no,” he said. “I mean you are right, Miss Winter, about why I left. It was because of you. But not because
of what you’re thinking,” he added. “I had to come to London immediately to procure something from my father,” he said. He reached into his pocket to toy with the ring again, and in spite of himself, his tone became airy and stupidly romantic. “Something,” he continued, “which I had hoped to give to you. That is of course if you will allow me. And I had not planned to present it to you here, but I realize that you are upset and so … Miss Winter?”
How long had she been ignoring him? Philip wondered. He was just about to throw away all dignity and self-respect, and ask her here and now on one knee, in full view of everyone.
But she was staring at something over his shoulder, something that had caused a look of abject fear to come over her face — her eyes were wide and the color had drained entirely from her cheeks. He turned around to see what had captured her attention and invoked such panic.
Philip never found whatever it was that frightened her so, because when he turned around he saw a face he never expected, nor wanted, to see again.
“Charlotte.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Philip, darling!” cried Charlotte. “What a lovely surprise.”
She rushed over and kissed his cheek. Philip tensed, worried about what Olivia would think of witnessing a woman she had never before seen kissing him on the cheek. To remedy the situation, he pulled away quickly and jumped to proper introductions.
“Charlotte,” he said, extending his arm and hand, and bowing slightly as though showcasing Olivia, “allow me to present Miss Olivia Winter, the daughter of my business partner.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Olivia … ” he turned to look at Olivia. “Allow me to present … ”
But she was gone.
He searched through the crowd for her, near trees and the benches and the lake, but she was gone.
“Oh, were you talking to someone, Philip?” asked Charlotte.
“Yes,” Philip lied, still looking for Olivia, “but I suppose … .”
Philip looked down suddenly at the crook of his arm, into which Charlotte had quite casually slipped her hands. She never used to allow such familiarities, especially in public. Had married life really changed her so much? Even still, what on earth had possessed her to lay her hands on a man who was not her husband?
“What are you doing here?” Philip asked suddenly.
“Oh, come now, Philip,” said Charlotte, laughing a bit as she spoke. “This is a park, is it not? It is perfectly natural for me to be here in the afternoon.”
“That is not what I meant,” said Philip, still looking for Olivia. He found her next to the lake, engrossed in conversation with his mother, sister, and Lady Lillian. He relaxed slightly knowing that she was all right.
“What are you doing here, talking to me?” he clarified.
“Do I need a reason?” Charlotte asked coyly.
Philip cleared his throat and removed her hands from his arm. She looked a little more than offended at this, but Philip found himself unable to care in this moment.
“From what I remember of my proposal of marriage,” he said as he released her fingers as though they were something disgusting, “you decided that you wanted nothing more to do with me. Indeed, you told me — no, rather you ordered me to leave your house immediately after I asked for your hand in marriage, so yes … I would say you do in fact require a reason for wanting to speak to me now.”
She looked flustered, possibly losing her resolve, but she regained her composure quickly enough. “Really, Philip,” she said, her voice shaking. “I saw you from afar and wanted to say hello. It has been so long since I have seen you. I hear you are quite a success in business now.”
“Yes, I am,” he said.
Charlotte smiled broadly. Her apparent approval of his current monetary status irritated Philip. He was tempted to tell her that thanks to his success, he now probably had more money than her new husband, the Earl Norland, but he refrained, opting instead for something much more proper, but no less impugning.
“Is the earl with you?”
Again, her cool expression faltered, only this time Philip saw, for the briefest of moments, a look of absolute disgust come over her face.
“No,” she said firmly. “The earl is at home.”
“I see.”
“Philip,” she said, her tone becoming quite desperate. “I want you to know that I do still think of you.”
Good God, he did not need this right now.
“I see,” he said. “Well, there is little I can do about that, Lady Norland. You have made your choice.”
He turned to leave, but she spoke again.
“Will you be at the Duke and Duchess of Willingham’s ball tomorrow night?”
Philip’s cold resolve against her softened a bit. He knew no woman could possibly enjoy being married to the Earl Norland, despite the title and massive wealth the man would give her. Norland was disgusting and cruel, but Charlotte had not been forced to marry him. Nevertheless, in this moment, with her eyes wide and desperate, Philip remembered how he had loved her once.
He remembered how he used to make her laugh. He realized now that she had probably been faking her laughter in order to keep him interested, but at least he had attempted to be humorous for her. He very much doubted Norland did the same. How miserable she must be now, Philip realized, and then he began to pity her.
“I attend every year, Charlotte.”
• • •
She could hear the music downstairs in the ballroom. She could hear the distant chatter of people, and even smell the fragrance of the many floral arrangements that had been ordered for the occasion. But despite the happy mood of all the clatter and chatter and smells, Olivia had yet to force herself away from her vanity table.
Two days had passed and still she had not got over the incident. She had thought herself safe, the duchess and all her friends (minus Lady Denham, of course) having made her feel so welcomed. But then, as if God had meant to remind her of her place, Olivia had spotted the black-haired girl who had tortured her in London two years ago. And what had made it worse was that the girl obviously knew Lord Philip.
In that moment, Olivia realized with absolute certainty that she could never be good enough for Lord Philip. The black-haired girl (whose name Olivia did know but refused to use) was noble and well-bred and delicate. She was just the sort of lady an equally well-bred man like Lord Philip would hope to marry. How, wondered Olivia, had she ever been so foolish as to think she could mean anything to a man like Lord Philip?
She covered her face with her hands out of embarrassment as she remembered all the times she had belittled him. She remembered both times they had kissed as well. But unlike every other time she had remembered kissing Lord Philip, now she did not remember the moments with a sense of shameful embarrassment. Instead, she thought back on those moments and treasured them.
He was actually very kind. She remembered how he had sat by her side as she cried and then made her tea. Despite all the nasty words she had flung at him, despite all the trouble she had given him, and all the dirty looks and accusations, he had found it within himself to comfort her. And for a time, Olivia had felt at ease in his presence.
Olivia lifted her face out of her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. She longed to go back to the time when she was happy living alone with her father in Dorset. She had been normal then, no worries or cares in the world. She was beginning to forget what such a life felt like.
She wished she had never met Lord Philip.
Olivia examined her common face in the mirror with disdain and anger, anger because she would have to live the whole of her life with just those two memories of affection with the only man she had ever loved, the only man she would love.
Love.
There, she admitted it. She loved him.
But she could never have him.
Wiping away her tears frantically, Olivia stood suddenly, intent on finally leaving her room to join the party. She brushed a bit of powder under her eyes t
o hide the redness in her face. Mr. Southerland would be in attendance, she remembered as she smoothed out her dress. He was common, just like her. He was an equal and therefore obtainable. He was not desirable and admittedly annoying, but he was kind enough to serve as a husband.
Resigned to the idea, dismal though it was, Olivia decided she would use everything in her power to manipulate Mr. Southerland into proposing. She wanted to be married now more than ever. Partly because she knew she would not have many chances living in the middle of the Dorset countryside, but mainly because she wanted to forget that she loved Lord Philip.
Perhaps another man would help.
• • •
As the carriage moved along the street, bringing him closer to his parents’ house, Philip had but one singular thought on his mind: Olivia. Everything else was merely peripheral — thoughts of the ball itself, the music, food, and people who would be in attendance (hopefully Charlotte would not be). Only Olivia mattered tonight.
He would ask her tonight. He wasn’t quite sure where yet, perhaps the garden next to his mother’s prized rosebushes. He had already solicited Mr. Winter for his permission. The old man had not been happy at first, having felt as if Philip had been romancing his own daughter under his nose. But after a lengthy talk, during which Philip reassured Mr. Winter that he loved Olivia like no other, he was able to gain her father’s blessing. Philip was free to ask Olivia to marry him.
And he was certain she would say yes. She had kissed him with such abandon, such passion and affection, he was positively sure that she felt as strongly about him as he did her. Once he explained why seemingly abandoned her, she would understand, and she would agree to be his wife.
The carriage pulled up to the house. People were bustling to get inside away from the cold air. Philip stood at the back of the large crowd, peering around shoulders and heads to see if the queue were moving. He finally made it past the door, but now he had to be announced. Everyone in the line was still and calm, chatting pleasantly with other guests — politics amongst men, dresses and hairstyles amongst women. Philip, however, was rocking his weight from foot to foot, chewing on his nails and fidgeting with his waistcoat as he waited. He was wasting time standing here. He should already be in the ballroom, dancing happily with Olivia … provided she did in fact accept his proposal. And good God did he hope she accepted. Philip was beginning to develop a fear of marriage proposals, having thrice been refused, one of the refusals belonging to Olivia herself.
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