by Kate Rolin
She couldn’t resist pulling back the curtain again. She watched as the massive gray stone townhouse came into view. It was just as she remembered—three stories tall with several windows glowering down upon the street below. The large black door, wrought iron fence, and tall columns built into the face of the house added to its intimidation. What she didn’t remember, was it feeling so…foreboding.
As the coach pulled to a stop on the cobblestone drive, Olivia turned to wake Josef, which was never an easy task and had become increasingly difficult each time they had stopped for a break on the journey here.
“Josef, Josef, dear. Wake up.” She gently shook him. This entire journey must have caught up to him. “Josef!” She shook him harder.
“Mmm. Mutter? Where are we?” Josef sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, his voice muffled with sleep.
“In London, Josef. We made it. We have arrived at His Grace’s townhouse.”
Josef’s eyes grew large, he was alert now. “Oh, I didn’t get to see London! Why didn’t you wake me, Mutter? I thought we’d never get here!”
Just then, the footman opened the door and before Olivia could stop him, Josef bounded down from the coach. “Josef, wait!” She’d have to remind him of his manners—again—before they were presented to His Grace.
She took a deep breath, gathering her skirts and her courage, and moved for the door. However, Josef still stood just at the bottom staring up at the domineering house, blocking her way.
“Josef, please move, dear.”
He looked back, the surprise still on his face, “Oh, I’m sorry, Mutter.”
He scurried to the side and Olivia descended the steps. Smoothing her dark gray skirts, she looked at Josef to remind him what he should expect to say, when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced back to the coach and saw their luggage being unloaded.
“Excuse me, sir, what is the meaning of this? We are not staying here. I understood this was merely a delay. This is all to be taken to Lady Milford’s residence.”
John stepped around, “As I said, Milady, there’s been a change of plans. His Grace will be alerted that you have arrived and explain it all to you then.”
He bowed, leaving Olivia standing there with her mouth hanging open quite unladylike as men rushed about them carrying their luggage into this house.
No, no, no… This wasn’t right! What was going on?
“My Lady.”
A familiar deep voice stirred Olivia and she turned to see a man she recognized from her childhood standing in the doorway.
“Charles!”
She rushed up to him and clasped his hands with her own, not caring about propriety at the moment. She’d been gone from London long enough anyhow.
“Oh, Charles, I can’t believe it’s really you! I didn’t know if you would still be here, and… Oh, silly me! You may not even remember who I am.” Olivia felt her cheeks begin to flush, embarrassed by her rambling.
“Of course I do, my lady. I could never forget Little Miss.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Olivia’s eyes stung suddenly and her throat felt tight at hearing his old endearment for her. Charles had always seemed a stern man, but he’d had a warm heart toward her as a child and she had always loved him for it.
“Oh, Charles! I wondered if I would ever see you again.” A laughed escaped her, mixed with a sob. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She reached up and placed a small kiss on his cheek, startling the aging man. Red began creeping from underneath his collar up to his now gray hairline. Even flustered, Olivia thought he looked quite distinguished still for a man now in his sixties.
Olivia felt a tug at her skirts and she turned to see Josef looking up expectantly. “Oh goodness! Where are my manners? I must have left them behind. Josef, this is Charles, the butler for His Grace. Charles, this is my son Herr Josef von Klor.” Her pride was evident in her voice as she smiled down at him.
Charles bowed his head toward the boy, “Herr von Klor. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Olivia grinned, there was the prim and proper Charles she remembered.
Josef was so excited he could hardly contain himself. “I am pleased to meet you too! And you may call me Josef. I am eight years old and cannot wait to see inside the house!”
Charles, realizing they were still standing on the steps, reddened again in embarrassment and straightened. “My apologies, my lady. I forgot where I was for a moment. Let us move inside.”
Olivia and Josef followed behind though the door grinning at each other. She had told him many stories of the dignified man over the years, and he had decided to take on what had been her personal mission as a child—to make the refined butler laugh out loud for once, something she had never managed to accomplish on all her visits here before she’d left England.
“Charles, really it’s fine…” her voice died as she paused to look around. The grand entrance was furnished just as she remembered with the great winding staircase that she had always loved there to greet them. The familiar smell of this place assuaged her just then, making the last twelve years seem like no time had passed at all.
But something was different. It felt…darker.
“Oh…” Josef’s whispered awe woke her from her trance. She saw him slowly look around, taking it all in, and decided to take his momentary silence as a chance to continue with Charles.
“Charles, I hate to jump to questions, but what is going on? Why are we here? And where is Aunt Elizabeth?”
As if on cue, footmen carrying their luggage came through the door just then and paused for direction from Charles. “Take these things to the sitting room adjoining the guest suites—the blue and green rooms. The maids will sort them out later.”
As the men passed by, Olivia tried again. “Charles, we can’t stay here. What is going on?”
Turning back to her, the old butler’s face was now a mask of indifference, revealing nothing. “I’m afraid that is a matter His Grace must discuss with you. I merely have my instructions.”
“Well, where is he? I must find out what is the meaning of all this!”
“I’m afraid he’s still in a meeting with his solicitor. He has instructed that you both are to be in the drawing room in an hour where he will join you before supper. You may discuss the matter with him then.”
“An hour? I must wait another hour to find out what is going on? Charles, this is all so perplexing!”
“My apologies, my lady, but those are my orders. In the meantime, Mary here will show you to your rooms where you may rest and freshen up before supper.” Gesturing to a maid who had approached, Charles then bowed and took his leave.
A young girl dressed as a maid curtsied, “Good evening, Milady. My name is Mary and I am to be your lady’s maid during your stay here. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Olivia sighed, apparently she would get no answers until she met with His Grace. She gathered her skirts and followed Mary up the stairs with Josef beside her. Reaching the second floor, they turned a corner and continued down a long hallway, passing several doors.
“Ah, here we are.” Mary opened the door to a sitting room. They walked in, Olivia untying the drawstrings of her hat, and looked around. Their luggage was already sitting in a corner. The room looked cozy enough with a settee, two wingback chairs, and a fire welcoming them from the fireplace.
“The door to the left is the blue room, for the young lad,” Josef ran off to see it while Mary continued, “and to the right is the green room, where you will be staying. Now, if you’ll tell me which of the luggage belongs to whom, I’ll have it sorted right away.”
“Yes, thank you Mary.” In a daze, Olivia directed to the maid which trunk, bag, and parcel should go where, when Josef came running back to them.
“My room is enormous! I’ve never seen so many blue things!”
“Now Josef, you need to rest for a bit and then dress for supper. Mary, who is attending to
him?”
“That would be Edith, Milady. I’ll let her know to come up directly.”
“Thank you, Mary. I believe I’ll lie down for ten minutes just to catch my breath and then I would like to ready for supper once you have everything sorted.”
“Yes, Milady.”
“And Josef, go along and lie down until Miss Edith arrives.”
“Ja, Mutter.”
Olivia turned to make her way to the green room—apparently now her room for the time being, however long that was to be. She was too exhausted and confused to really notice any details of her new surroundings. Still in a daze, she set her hat down on a dressing table and removed her gloves.
Well, whatever was going on, she would find out in an hour.
Chapter Three
Cyrus sat back in his chair and sighed, his solicitor having just left. After the two hour meeting with Mr. Malcolm, he was ready to eat, but even that would have to wait.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease some tension and then loosened his cravat when that didn't work. He’d had several personal matters to sort out with Malcolm, and then he’d informed the man of Olivia’s return, alerting him that she would be taking over her accounts at some point. If she returns, he’d thought. But then he’d heard muffled voices pass by outside the closed door and he knew without a doubt she had arrived.
That had been thirty minutes ago. He only had that long left until he was to meet with her downstairs.
Groaning, he pulled himself up to his feet to make his way to his bedchamber. His valet was likely standing around waiting for him. Well, let him wait!
Even in his own head, he sounded crabby. It didn’t help that his meeting had been tiring—they’d been over so many details of both his family and country estates—but those voices he’d heard had also made Olivia’s arrival a reality.
He entered his room and sure enough, there stood William ready to assist him. Cyrus readied in silence and William, sensing his mood, did not attempt conversation once.
Cyrus’s thoughts continually pulled him back to his guests. A child with a child of her own. She likely hardly remembered him. Wonderful—two strangers staying in the house of a man who barely tolerated acquaintances.
He had thought it best to explain the doings of her aunt in person, but now, as William was helping him into his coat, he questioned that decision. What would he say to her? That her blasted, impulsive aunt had made a harebrained decision to leave her in the hands of the worst possible man?
No, that wouldn’t do.
That against his better judgment, he’d accepted the consequences of Elizabeth’s rash decision?
No, it wasn’t as if Olivia could have helped it anyway.
William, now finished with his task, exited the room. Cyrus yanked on his cuffs and went to stand by the fireplace, resting a hand on the mantle.
Whatever he would say, he hoped it would come to him before he got there.
And that it would be more polite.
~
Cyrus basically stormed down the stairs on his way to the drawing room, having decided it would be better to face this meeting head on and get it over with. The sooner he did, the sooner he could eat.
Spying Charles, he barked, “Where are they?”
“In the drawing room, Your Grace,” Charles bowed solemnly.
Did nothing ever ruffle the man?
Cyrus felt a twinge of guilt at taking out his frustrations on the faithful butler, but at the moment, he needed to get to the drawing room.
Charles, ready at the door, opened it and stepped in to announce his arrival. Cyrus could see around the old butler two figures with their backs toward the door. At the sound of Charles’s voice, they both turned around.
Here it goes…
~
Olivia and Josef had been standing near a gaming table in front of one of two large windows as she told him of the games she and her family had played there in years past. As close as her family and been with His Grace, she’d spent much time here when they had all been in London together.
She was just about to begin another story when she heard a doorknob click. She stilled as her heart began to race—which was ridiculous. She was not the same little girl she’d once been.
Locking eyes with Josef, she heard Charles clear his throat and say, “His Grace the Duke of Alston.”
Josef reached for her hand and she squeezed it reassuringly. He was so nervous about being liked. That explained his behavior, but why did she now feel as if she could expel the contents of her stomach?
Perhaps she had some lingering sea-sickness. That, and the fact that she was uncomfortable in her dress. It was the first one she’d worn in nearly three years that wasn’t some shade of black or gray.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to curtsy, not looking up until she heard footsteps approaching.
Locking eyes with him, she froze. The man before her looked as if he had just stepped out from one of her girlish daydreams in years past, yet nothing like him at the same time.
Gone was the light she remembered in his eyes. They were darker now, almost black. His sharp jawline appeared even sharper, as if he were clenching his teeth, and his raven-black hair now had a hint of gray at the temples and a few streaks throughout. The lines about his mouth had deepened with time, and where they used to draw back with his ready smile, they now appeared cemented in place with his frown.
He was still breathtakingly handsome, but he looked so…
Severe.
For some reason, he stopped in his tracks just short of where she stood and something flashed in those dark eyes of his. Bitterness? Anger? Or was it more of resentment?
Dressed in all black, the mood about him felt even blacker.
Oh dear, no matter what had happened to Aunt Elizabeth, she shouldn’t be here!
~
With large, decisive steps, Cyrus began making his way toward his guests after Charles’s announcement. Olivia’s head was still bent as she dropped into a curtsy, but he immediately recognized those auburn curls that had always looked so much like her own mother’s.
Then she looked up.
And he froze.
Tha-thump.
Where some would say their heart stopped, Cyrus noticed his began beating for the first time in four years.
The deepest blue eyes locked with his and held him captive. No matter that he knew it had been twelve years since he’d last seen her, he was not prepared to be greeted by a very beautiful, a very definite woman.
Full, pink lips parted slightly in surprise and a blush began to appear on her cheeks, continuing down her neck, and further still…
He swallowed.
Get a hold of yourself!
Willing his feet to move toward her again, he reached for her hand. “Lady von Klor, or should I say Frau von Klor?” He spoke the words as he brushed his lips on her fingers, keeping his voice low.
“Your Grace,” she whispered.
He heard her clear her throat before she continued, “I have returned to London for good, so ‘Lady’ will do.”
Cyrus managed a nod. Had her voice always been this enchanting? Surely he was imagining things. Even if it had been, he wouldn’t have noticed back then. This was Eddingham’s daughter he used to tease, for goodness’ sake!
An uncomfortable silence hovered over them then. Cyrus arched a brow, “And this child?”
The blush reappearing, Olivia looked down to the boy standing still next to her and smiled. “Oh, yes, forgive me Your Grace. This is my son, Josef.”
Making his mother’s heart proud, Josef bowed his head and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Josef.” Polite. Not entirely true, but polite. “Tell me, how old are you?”
“I am eight years old. Mutter tells me I am to gain a new tutor here so I can go to school when I am older. I am so excited! Except for having to play music. Mutter likes music and Vater did too, but I like readi
ng and science best!”
Cyrus couldn’t help but crack a smile at the lad’s ramblings. He noticed Olivia, however, had gone white at her son’s outburst. “Ah, yes, I remember your mother played the pianoforte often when she was a girl. Well, I’m afraid I do not own one, but I do have a library full of books that you are welcome to during your stay here.”
“Oh, thank you, Your Grace! That would be wunderbar!”
Cyrus nodded and turned back to Olivia, “And does my lady still enjoy the pianoforte or has she moved on to other pursuits? Because it is clear you are not a little girl anymore.” Mentally congratulating himself as the pink returned to her cheeks, he continued, “I remember predicting once that you would return to London a famous composer.”
Olivia nodded and Cyrus couldn’t help but notice as she lowered her eyes how long her darkened lashes were against her fair skin.
“I do, Your Grace. Music has proven to be a great comfort to me these past few years. However, I’m afraid your prediction did not prove to be true. I hope you did not place any wagers on it, or I’m afraid you will owe someone some money.”
It was the first sign of anything other than reservation from Olivia, and the half-smile she gave him now did something to his insides—something he hadn’t felt since…
Pain hit his gut, his heart having long-since lost feeling, as he realized this was the first time he’d truly noticed a woman since Lydia.
He needed to get down to business and get out of there. Schooling his features, his voice even, he said, “I will congratulate myself on not being a betting man. Now, it appears we have a matter to discuss.”
“Yes, Your Grace, I would like to know what has happened. What is this ‘change of plans’ and where is Aunt Elizabeth? Is she not well?” She took a step towards him, concern etched on her pretty face.
Pretty? What are you, some confounded school boy? Irritated with himself, Cyrus was unable to keep the edge out of his voice. “Oh, your Aunt Elizabeth is perfectly well, I assure you. In fact, she was in the image of health a week ago when she barged in declaring I was to play host to Eddingham’s daughter and grandson!”
