by Kate Rolin
Olivia noticed the pain that crossed his face as he mentioned the name.
“Olivia, would you like to see to having the house ready for Christmas? We cannot have the child disappointed after all.”
“Oh, Mutter! We will have the best Christmas!”
“Why, yes, Cyrus, I would love to. I need something to keep me busy these next few weeks regardless.”
“Mutter, it’s Your Grace, that’s what you said!”
Cyrus burst into laughter as Olivia’s face burned—again. She hadn’t blushed so much since, well, since she was last in London.
“What did I say?” Poor Josef looked so lost.
“That reminds me. I promised to inquire after a tutor for Josef. Rumor is Lady Wainwright’s younger son is very qualified. I’m afraid I don’t remember his name. He’s been away for some time, but will be returning just before Christmas. Perhaps you can meet him at the ball if you don’t mind waiting that long.”
“Oh, that would be excellent. I don’t see any need to rush his studies now until the new year anyway.”
“Very well, I will mention it to Lady Wainwright in my reply.”
The evening carried on with lively conversation over an excellent meal. Olivia couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so relaxed.
Cyrus felt happier than he had in years, as if he were dining with his own family. He hadn’t realized just how downright lonely he’d become until his guests had entered his life.
But, he chided himself, he’d do well to remember he may be their guardian, but they didn’t belong to him.
Olivia wasn’t his.
Chapter Six
The next morning, the mantua-maker arrived promptly after breakfast. The remainder of the morning was spent in the sitting room that adjoined Olivia and Josef’s bedchambers, with Olivia being measured and fitted for new gowns, choosing fabrics, and looking over designs. Before she knew it, a luncheon tray had arrived. Madame Marguerite clapped her hands at her assistants who then scurried to gather up all of the fabrics and patterns lying about.
In a heavy French accent, Madame spoke, “Ah, we will leave you to your luncheon. We have everything we need for your new day dresses, evening gowns, boudoir clothing, and…Ach! The ball gown! We did not choose the material! M’sieur le Duc, he said it was needed immediatement! Let us choose this and then we will be gone. And you are sure, no morning gowns?”
Olivia shook her head. She did not need any new morning gowns—did not need any new nightgowns for her “boudoir” either as Madame had called it. But the delicate fabrics in pale pink, blue, and green were so beautiful, Olivia had allowed herself the indulgence. It was her funds paying for it anyway. She still enjoyed beautiful and feminine clothing, even if no one would see them.
At that thought, a sudden pain of missing Karl hit her. It had been over a year since his death, and though she was not one to lose herself to sadness, it still hurt nonetheless. He had been her best friend. He would have loved her new green nightgown. He had always said that green brought out the gold in her hair.
Still thinking of Karl as she looked over fabrics for her ballgown, she decided that after supper she would write to his mother back in Austria. The poor old widow was cared for by a close relative. Heartbroken at the loss of her only son, she’d shut herself up from Olivia and Josef in her grief. Perhaps a letter letting her know of their safe arrival would bring her some comfort.
“What about this one, Mademoiselle?”
Brought out of her thoughts, Olivia saw Madame Marguerite holding up a sample silk of deep maroon. It had tiny flowers of the same color embroidered on it. The color immediately reminded her of Cyrus’s banyan from that first evening and she felt her cheeks flush all over again. She still could not believe that she was to attend a ball so soon, and with him.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Olivia ran her fingers over the fine cloth. “But my hair, it’s red. It would not look right.”
“Nonsense. Your hair is not red red. No, it has gold in it. And this fabric, it is a red deep enough to compliment your beautiful skin. See? I show you.” Gesturing Olivia toward the mirror, she held up the sample to Olivia’s face.
She was surprised, but Madame was right. It was beautiful against her complexion and made the gold in her hair stand out. Her deep blue eyes looked bright next to the dark color. “Oh, yes! I see you are quite right. I think this will do nicely.”
“I believe it should have bright white under petticoats and matching gloves. Trust Madame, she knows best. There. We will leave you now. Not to worry, everything will be completed in time.”
A small bow to Olivia, then a clap of her hands, and Madame Marguerite and her assistants left, their arms full of patterns and materials.
Olivia sat down, exhausted, and looked at the tray of food. Perhaps Josef could join her if he had not eaten yet. She rang for the maid who informed her Josef had, in fact, already eaten and was busy exploring the “secret” passageway His Grace had shown them the evening before. But not to worry, the servants were keeping any eye out for him. He was only curious and wanted to “explore”.
Olivia smiled and dismissed the girl. She was thankful Josef was enjoying himself so far away from the only home he’d ever known. And it sounded as if it was unlikely he could get into any mischief in this now very un-secret passage. It had ended up only being a hidden stairwell from their bedchamber floor to the kitchen, likely mostly used for sneaking food these days.
After a few bites, Olivia yawned, spent after the entire morning’s events. An afternoon nap sounded like just the thing she needed at the moment. Without even ringing for Mary to assist her out of her dress, she climbed onto her bed and fell fast asleep.
~
That evening after supper, Olivia, Josef, and Cyrus all retired to the drawing room, as had become their habit—Olivia to write her letter, Josef to read whatever new book he had found, and Cyrus to answer some correspondence he had asked to be sent over from his study.
Olivia had quickly come to love this room. Though fairly large, it was still cozy. Above the fireplace was a large painting of the previous Duke of Alston in a country scene with two hunting dogs. He looked to have been about the same age as the current Duke with the same black hair and dark eyes. There was a sofa in front of a large fireplace and two sitting chairs on either side. Josef climbed into one of them with his book. Behind the sofa was a small writing desk. It was here Olivia sat to write to her mother-in-law. There were also two large windows and in front of one was a larger desk which was where the Duke sat.
The only thing missing, Olivia thought, was a pianoforte. Then the room would be perfect.
As she wrote her letter, she recounted their journey and safe arrival in London. She wrote how her aunt had been delayed, but her financial guardian—her father’s friend whom she should remember hearing of before—had been gracious enough to host them in the meantime. Josef was doing well and they missed her—which was mostly true. Olivia did miss her mother-in-law, but she’d become a different person in her grief, and Austria held too many painful memories now to ever desire to return there.
Olivia needed to re-dip her pen in the ink, but paused for a rest. Her eyes glanced over to her right to Cyrus. He was writing with speed, a look of concentration on his face. She chanced the opportunity to study him. It seemed that after their breakfast confrontation a week ago, he reminded her more of the man she remembered from so long ago. He smiled more and his intense gaze was less of a “glare” to her now.
Not that it did not affect her at all. Her pulse always quickened when his eyes were on her.
As Cyrus worked to answer his tedious correspondence, he suddenly sensed Olivia had quit writing as all he heard was the fire crackling and a page turning as Josef read. His eyes shot up to where Olivia sat and his pen stopped mid-sentence.
Olivia, embarrassed at being caught staring, immediately went to dipping her pen and getting back to her letter. She could still sense his gaze upon her for sever
al seconds more and glanced back up at him. His dark look was intense upon her and not surprising, she blushed softly. But she did not feel unwanted.
A soft smile formed on her pink lips and she held his gaze.
Cyrus felt an odd satisfaction at having caught Olivia staring at him. When she’d resumed writing, he kept watching her, thinking again she was the most beautiful woman he’d seen since Lydia. Lydia had been a striking, dark-haired beauty with dark, almost purple eyes. Olivia had a fairer complexion and softness to her appearance. Where Lydia had been tall and willowy, Olivia was more petite and curvy. Both beautiful and both very different. He would not say one was more than the other.
When she had looked back up a him and smiled, something twisted in his gut. He knew she would not be here forever, but he was again glad for whatever had caused Elizabeth’s delay. He found he was actually looking forward to the Christmas ball with Olivia as his guest.
“The mantua-maker tells me you chose well and everything is in order.” Cyrus broke the silence.
“Yes, she was wonderful, thank you. However did you find her on such short notice?”
“It appears that they are easier to come by than I supposed.”
The truth was, that very evening after supper, when Olivia had mentioned she had nothing to wear to the ball, Cyrus had ordered Charles to see to it a mantua-maker was summoned right away. Only the best would do and he was willing to pay a hefty sum to ensure she would be available the following morning. “And the gown? It will be ready in time for the ball?”
“She assured me it would.” Olivia laughed, “I have a feeling it only takes a clap of her hands and whatever she wishes is done.”
That, and a Duke willing to pay a high price, Cyrus smiled to himself. “When Josef is in need of new clothing I shall send for my own personal tailor.”
“That is kind of you, Cyrus, but I made sure Josef had new clothes made before our journey since he had just grown a head taller. Hopefully these will do until another growth spurt hits. Which may be sooner rather than later with the way he has been eating Cook’s meals.”
At the mention of his name, Josef’s head popped up from his book. He looked at them and asked, “What did I do?” They both laughed as Josef simply shrugged, feeling out of the loop now, and went back to his book.
Olivia, quieting, returned to her letter. Cyrus attempted to return to his correspondence, but found he could no longer concentrate. He suddenly stood and said, “How about a game?”
Josef shot up, “Oh, could we? What about Cribbage? Mutter taught me that one.”
Cyrus walked over to inspect some shelves. “Hmm…I’m afraid I’ve misplaced my cribbage board. It’s been years since there have been any guests in this house. We could try Noddy instead?”
“I don’t know that one.”
Olivia stood, and smoothing her skirts said, “It’s not too difficult, Josef. We’ll teach you. It’s very close to Cribbage. I actually may need a refresher myself. I don’t know the last time I played.”
“I can teach you everything you want to know.”
For some reason, Cyrus’s simple statement made Olivia’s stomach flip. Maybe it was the way he was standing there in front of the window with his feet spread wide and his arms behind his back making his broad, muscular chest appear even larger. Or maybe it was the way his deep blue waistcoat made his graying, but dark hair and eyes stand out.
And those dark eyes were staring right into her.
Olivia, deciding it best to get this game started as soon as possible, walked over to the gaming table to Cyrus’s right. Josef joined and Cyrus brought the cards and sat down. After a few minutes of explanation, the game began. Josef wore a look of intense concentration as they played.
At some point, the conversation changed to the weather. The unseasonably warm November had made the arrival of a cold December seem even more so. Josef sighed, “I haven’t been able to go outside to the back gardens for three whole days. It’s so cold! I love reading and s’ploring and Charles’s stories, but I want to run outside!”
“Well, why don’t we run inside?”
“Run inside?” Josef looked at Cyrus uncomprehending.
“Yes, what about a little game of hide-and-seek?”
“That sounds grand!” Josef threw down his cards. He was clearly losing and glad to be rid of the game. “Can I be the seeker?”
“Very well, but we need rules. No going outside, no asking the servants—and Charles,” pointing a look at Josef, “where we’ve hidden. And we must all hide on this floor.”
“I could use a little exercise myself,” Olivia said, standing. “Shall we say, count to fifty and you have twenty minutes to find who has hidden?”
“Yes!” Josef clapped his hands. “Alright, I will count now and you must go hide.” Covering his eyes, he began, “One…two…three…” Cyrus smiled, looking to Olivia, and nodded to the door to go hide. Laughing quietly, Olivia left the room quickly and went to hide behind a panel of curtains in the dining room. She didn’t see where Cyrus had gone, but in a matter of ten minutes, both had been found by Josef.
“I win! I win!” Josef shouted excitedly.
“That you do. Now, since you found me first it is my turn to be the seeker and you and your mother must hide.” As Cyrus began to count, Josef ran from the room.
Olivia left in search of her own hiding spot. Being Cyrus’s home, he likely knew all the places big enough to hide an adult and she’d probably be found quickly.
Suddenly, she thought of that “secret” passageway. While you technically had to access it from the floor above or the kitchen below, she could make her way down the steps until she was on level with this floor. Technically speaking, she’d still be following the rules. Wouldn’t Josef be surprised?
Cyrus was still counting, already to twenty-five. She’d better hurry.
She ran upstairs to find the access door, and though the passageway was dark, she slowly made her way down until she thought she was on level with the main floor. One small window near the top of the stairway let in enough moonlight so she could at least see where she stepped.
Thinking she may be here a while, she sunk down on a step, suddenly feeling very tied. After a few minutes, she was sound asleep.
~
Josef had a talent when it came to hiding and was not found for fifteen minutes. Disappointed at being found first, he cheered back up when Cyrus asked for his help in finding his mother. Ten more minutes went by—now beyond the allotted time—and still no sign of Olivia. Josef ran around saying, “Mutter, where are you? You won!”
Cyrus, however, began to feel concerned, but he couldn’t let Josef see it. “Why don’t you find Cook or Charles to see if they know where your mother hid. Time’s up so it won’t be breaking the rules.” Josef, oblivious to Cyrus’s concern, ran off in search of Charles.
After another sweep of the library, Cyrus had an instinct to go upstairs. He didn’t know why, but he was beginning to have an idea where she might have gone. Finding the secret door slightly ajar, he felt some relief knowing he’d likely found her.
As he made his way down the dim stairwell, he could see a dark figure further on and as he got closer, he could make out it was Olivia. She was sitting with her head resting on her arms a step above.
Calling her name, he was met with silence. Reaching her, he realized she was asleep so he sat down above her and gently stroked her hair, hoping to wake her. “Olivia,” he said gently, “Olivia, you can wake up now, you’ve won.”
Olivia stirred, but did not wake. Cyrus continued stroking her auburn curls. He thought he’d imagined how soft her hair felt after that first night when he’d reached out to touch it. Now he was able to confirm it.
Olivia stirred again and mumbled, “No, don’t go…”
Cyrus shook her arms this time. “Olivia, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Lifting her up off the steps, he pulled her onto his lap hoping to ease her into consciousness. Turning in his arms, Olivia
leaned her head back, eyes still closed.
“Kiss me…” she murmured.
Cyrus froze outwardly, but inwardly his blood was flowing hot.
Yes, dreaming. She was still dreaming.
He looked down at her then. Her face was turned up toward his, her pretty mouth mere inches away. Her head was leaned back, exposing her porcelain neck and further down a prime view of her low neckline.
He swallowed hard.
He had been around plenty of beautiful women even after Lydia’s death and none had affected him as this one.
His late friend’s daughter.
Why was he having trouble remembering that fact?
Still sleeping, Olivia then took a deep breath and he watched as her chest rose and fell. Then she whispered, “Please…Cyrus…”
Wait. What? Was she dreaming about him? Did she want him to kiss her?
No, that couldn’t be right. He was too old. Eighteen years older than her if he remembered correctly. Old enough to be her uncle. Surely that was how she saw him.
Never mind that he was no longer seeing himself that way.
Looking down at her still, his mouth went dry as he realized for the first time that she very well may not see him like that. He felt desire course through his veins.
That most definitely had not happened since Lydia.
The realization of this possibility unsettled him. Cyrus decided they’d better get out of there and back to Josef. Picking her up, he carried Olivia up the stairs to her room. In her sleepy state, she wound her arms around his neck and snuggled close as he carried her. He groaned, why did she have to smell so…desirable?
Having deposited her on her bed—was this room always this green?—he turned quickly to leave. He had to let Josef know she’d been found.
As he walked away, he could still feel those arms around his neck and fearfully realized they were working their way around his heart as well.
Chapter Seven
