by Kate Rolin
After a sleepless night full of inner turmoil, Cyrus had determined that he could not allow himself to act that way with Olivia ever again. She deserved a lifetime of happiness—with someone who would likely not leave her a widow again at too young an age. The eighteen years he had on her ruled him out in that regard. Even if his suspicions were right and she did want him in return, he would have only, what, maybe twenty good years left to give her? She didn’t deserve to be left alone again.
He couldn’t afford his own heart the chance anyway. Perhaps it was selfish, but losing Lydia had nearly killed him. Olivia was the only woman he’d even looked at since, and if something, God forbid, happened to her before him, he did not think he would ever recover this time. His heart wouldn’t be able to stand it.
No, it would be best to resume a more fatherly perception of Olivia and act purely as guardian until Elizabeth returned in a week or two.
And as for the wretched ball tonight, well, he’d already accepted the invitation for them both, no backing out now. Especially after he’d rushed that Madame Marguerite for Olivia’s gown.
He would simply approach it as looking out for Olivia’s best interest. Introduce her to key acquaintances, help her back into society, and possibly secure a tutor for Josef.
Cyrus stood in his bedchamber dressed for the evening, as William tied back his dark hair with a black ribbon—he never wore those uncomfortable wigs. They remained silent as the valet perceived his master was lost in thought.
Cyrus finally resolved this ball would merely be another way of fulfilling his duties to Olivia as her guardian. He wouldn’t even dance one dance with her if that was what it took.
~
“Mutter, you look beautiful! Like a princess!” Josef sat in the sitting room that adjoined his room to his mother’s. Olivia, dressed for the ball, laughed and gave a little twirl for him. He clapped and ran over to give her a hug. “I wish I could go to the party.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into her skirts.
“Well now, I’m afraid you would be terribly bored. There will be no children your age. You’d have to mind your manners, eat food you dislike, comment about the weather, and dance with all of the older women who would want to give you a kiss.”
Josef scrunched up his nose. “Blech! Never mind, I am glad to stay here.”
“Now, mind Charles and Edith and everyone else while we’re gone. Don’t stay up too late reading. Oh, and I’ve been told Cook left a special bedtime snack of the Christmas cake for you in the kitchen.” Olivia smiled at her son, gave him another kiss goodnight, and left to join Cyrus who was surely waiting for her at the front door.
Despite her resolve to treat the ball as an important duty to perform, she couldn’t help the butterflies that were now loose inside her stomach as she descended the stairs. If things had not changed between them since last night, this ball would be a dream come true for Olivia. But as it was, it appeared things had changed—for Cyrus anyway—so she’d better get a grip on her emotions before it was too late.
Cyrus stood near the entrance of his home conversing with Charles as he retrieved his black greatcoat and hat. He was dressed in black silk breeches and matching tail coat, causing his white shirt and cravat to stand out in stark contrast. He liked black. It matched his current mood and was much more preferable than those peacock color waistcoats worn by a dandy.
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he turned in dread knowing it would be Olivia making her way down.
Whatever he had been saying to Charles died on his lips and the air was knocked from his lungs at the angel descending before him.
There was a certain glow about her and he thought Madame Marguerite had certainly outdone herself with the gown. The deep maroon skirts had a fullness given to them by bright white petticoats that were just visible. Above that, her tiny waist was wrapped in more of the maroon material up to the—gracious, he swallowed—the deep neckline displaying her décolletage, her short sleeves falling just off her shoulders. Auburn curls were piled atop her head and several tendrils escaped around her face and neck. His fingers twitched.
Her blue eyes were on him and he saw a hesitancy there. He could kick himself, for he knew he was the cause of it after the way he had behaved today.
Glancing down, he noticed on her left arm she wore the sapphire bracelet he had given her last night. The memory of their kiss came flooding in at once and, watching her now, he had to fight against the desire to hold her that was racing through him again.
His resolve was not forgotten, but looking at her now, he decided one dance with her would not hurt. There was no point in not enjoying the evening at all, was there?
As Olivia joined him by the door, she turned to Mary who had followed behind her and retrieved her fur muff and cloak. As she turned back to him, Cyrus gave her his most dashing smile, hoping to put her at ease again, and offered his arm.
Confusion now clouding her eyes, she hesitated just briefly before reaching up to take it. He covered her gloved hand with his own and felt relief when she smiled, albeit tentatively.
They stepped outside and found the carriage waiting. As he held her hand while she climbed up, he couldn’t help but feel excitement in anticipation of the night before them. He, the Duke of Alston, excited over a confounded ball.
Yes, he thought, what would one dance hurt?
~
They rode to the ball in polite conversation. That look of desire had returned to Cyrus’s eyes and Olivia was beginning to feel more confused than ever. Was this her due after the way she had first treated Karl all those years ago?
Perhaps it wasn’t even a look of desire, but rather just the fact he was now making any eye contact at all.
They arrived at Lady Wainwright’s residence and the carriage pulled to a stop. Olivia descended and looked up to see a similar stone house full of windows, each one glowing with light from the party within.
Cyrus, walking up from behind, put a hand to her elbow. She lifted her skirts and together they ascended the steps to the entrance where two footmen awaited to grant them access.
Olivia felt nervousness begin to swirl inside of her. They were among the last to arrive and she knew the house would be full of people—people she didn’t know. Having been gone from London for so many years, and only a child when she was here before, she doubted anyone would remember her.
Though perhaps more reserved, Olivia was not painfully shy—on the contrary, she enjoyed pleasant conversation and meeting new people. But a house full of strangers with whom she would have to engage in small talk all evening was very intimidating indeed. Especially in a society prone to gossip. She needed to make a good impression for Josef’s sake—in regard to both a tutor and his own acceptance into society as he grew.
They entered through the door and were directed to the ball room. An announcement was made of their arrival and a hush fell on the crowd. Many turned to stare, in part because it was a rare occurrence that the Duke of Alston attended these functions, and also to see who this newcomer ‘Lady von Klor’ was. They continued to stare as they observed what a striking image the two made together, her fair beauty and his dark good looks.
Outwardly, Olivia smiled gracefully on the scene and appeared to be at ease, but inwardly she froze. She cursed herself as she felt a slight blush began to warm her cheeks.
Cyrus, who normally detested parties, found himself more at ease tonight with Olivia on his arm. He nudged her elbow and she allowed him to lead her over to greet their hostess.
A tall woman, whom Olivia guessed from Cyrus’s previous description to be fifteen to twenty years her senior, approached them. She actually appeared much younger than that and was dressed in a flattering gown of navy silks with matching lace trimming the edges. Her equally low neckline revealed skin that appeared youthful still. She had chestnut brown hair with wisps of gray and bright green eyes. Her face was handsome and slender with high cheekbones. A wide smile formed as she approached and Olivia had the f
leeting sense she herself was being critiqued by the woman.
“Cyrus, dear! I am so glad you were able to come! It has been too long since you have attended a dance, much less come to visit me.” A pretty pout formed on her lips.
Cyrus bowed over her hand. “Lady Wainwright. I’m afraid I often do not have the time or am away from London to engage in such pleasantries.” He turned to Olivia then, “May I introduce to you Lady Olivia von Klor. You’ll remember her late father was the previous Earl of Eddingham and my closest friend.”
Understanding lit Lady Wainwright’s eyes and she watched Olivia carefully as Cyrus continued with the introductions.
Olivia curtsied, “Pleased to meet you, my lady. Thank you for allowing your invitation to extend to me. You have a beautiful home.”
Lady Wainwright smiled, “Oh, yes child, I am so pleased you could attend. I remember your father and mother quite well. I was so sorry to hear of their passing.”
“Thank you, my Lady.” Why did she refer to her as a child?
Lady Wainwright turned to Cyrus. “I understand she is staying with you as your charge until Lady Brighton returns?”
“She is staying with me, yes. And her son Josef.”
Surprise lit her face as she looked to Olivia. “Son? How old is he? Where is his father?”
“Josef is eight, my Lady. My husband died last year after a riding accident. That is why I have returned from Austria. Aunt Elizabeth is my closest living relative and she has kindly offered for us to come live with her.”
“You look to be barely past your first season, much less old enough to have an eight-year-old child!”
“I am twenty-eight, my Lady. My twenty-ninth birthday will be in March.”
Cyrus groaned inwardly at Lady Wainwright’s impudence and wanted to change the conversation. “Josef is the young lad I mentioned in need of a tutor. I was of the understanding your younger son would be in attendance tonight. I was told he had an interest in tutoring and had hoped perhaps he and Olivia could discuss the matter.”
“I see, I had assumed it was for the young lady, but yes of course! Derrick had a matter to attend to, but should not be detained for long. When he arrives I’ll introduce you. He’s just returned, you know, from the African continent. Business venture there. Been gone for nine years. My eldest, George, the Marquess, he and his wife are away visiting her family in Wales. He detests London, so they usually stay away at the estate anyhow. Olivia, you may remember him from your time here. Derrick, not George. He is twenty-seven, close in age to you. Never married, he has. Shame. Such a handsome man, and a wonder too with the way the girls took to him.” She finally paused for a breath.
Olivia smiled politely. If she remembered one thing from her previous time in London, it was the mothers who were always trying to find a match for their children, both daughters and sons, and often their praise was quite exaggerated. No doubt this was the case as well. If this Derrick was as handsome as she said, he likely would have been snatched up long ago, whether here or in Africa. “Well, I look forward to meeting him and discussing the tutorship when he arrives.”
Realization was dawning in Cyrus as to what Lady Wainwright was suggesting and he didn’t like it one bit. No matter that he’d resolved he could not have Olivia himself, he didn’t want to see her trapped by this woman.
Not to mention, he had his doubts about this so-called business venture in Africa that had kept her son away for nine years. He had no problem with him acting as a tutor, an employee, but marriage? To Olivia? No, he didn’t like it at all.
“Yes, we can discuss business when he arrives. Come, Olivia, I see Lord Willingham. I’ll introduce you.” Cyrus moved to leave.
Lady Wainwright cut in, taking Olivia’s arm. “I’ll introduce you, Olivia. We women need to help each other. Besides, I can take you to everyone you must know. Cyrus never ventures out unless he has to. I wager it will be more beneficial to be introduced by someone who actually mingles within society.”
“Clara…” Cyrus grit out the warning.
Lady Wainwright simply laughed and waved a hand at him. “Why don’’t we leave Cyrus to the men. On our way around the room I can fill you in on everything you need to know about everyone!”
Olivia threw Cyrus a pleading look, but before she knew it, Lady Wainwright was leading her to Lord Willingham. “Very well.”
Olivia found herself thrown from one introduction to another. She could hardly keep up with everything Lady Wainwright told her, much less everyone’s name, and her nerves had not helped her in the least. Footmen had been walking amongst the guests carrying silver trays of various treats, and when one passed by with small glasses of sherry, Olivia snatched one and drank it quickly. Anything to help calm her.
Just before another introduction to a Lord and Lady So-and-so, she took another glass. It didn’t take long for her to begin to relax and she soon found she was enjoying the conversations and was actually feeling quite witty after all. Thirty minutes later, Olivia thought she couldn’t remember ever having a nicer time.
The band struck up a new song and Olivia heard a voice from behind her say, “May I have this dance?” She turned to see Lord Willingham again. He was a short, round man with rosy cheeks—whom Olivia now found quite charming to talk to.
“Why, I’d be delighted.” She beamed as he led her to the dance floor, thoroughly enjoying herself. Not long after, Olivia found her dance card nearly full for the evening. The men were drawn to her like flies to honey. Not only was she stunningly beautiful and a newcomer, she had quite the sense of humor (thanks to the sherry) and a way of listening to whomever addressed her as if they were the most important man in the room. She also seemed genuine, unlike the lot of husband-hunters the men were accustomed to.
Cyrus spent the first few hours of the evening along the perimeter of the room, eyes always on Olivia. He would mumble responses to whomever attempted conversation with him, remembering why he detested dances in the first place. He’d hoped to be left alone, but to no avail.
He couldn’t help but admire the way Olivia carried herself about the room. She appeared confident and graceful, apparently charming everyone she came into contact with. He saw every smile she gave, watched as she’d say something to make everyone laugh, and felt acute jealousy every time she danced with another man.
He finally decided he was ready to have his one dance with her and began to make his way across the room to cut in on the Earl of Kensington, when suddenly Lady Wainwright appeared in front of him, blocking his path. There was a mischievous grin on her face.
“Cyrus, I do believe I’ve done quite well with Olivia’s introductions. Everyone appears to be quite taken with her. She hasn’t sat out a dance since she started.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“I’ve seen you watching her, and I know you feel fatherly concern, but don’t worry, she appears to be able to handle herself quite well. Now, why don’t we dance? It’s been far too long.” She lowered her voice and fluttered her lashes flirtatiously.
Cyrus did everything he could to avoid rolling his eyes. However, he was not given to bad manners and against his desire he escorted Lady Wainwright onto the dance floor.
Clara was over the moon to be dancing with Cyrus. He was always so busy and she saw far too little of him. She’d been alarmed at first to discover the child she assumed he’d been keeping at his home was no child at all, but rather a very beautiful, grown woman. She’d not liked the way he had looked at Olivia all evening either.
However, she had a plan. She had done her best to introduce Olivia to as many eligible men as possible tonight, no matter their age. And when her own son would finally arrive, she would introduce her to the best of all. Perhaps with their close age, her beauty would be enough to finally tempt her son to settle down. Then she could ensure she had Cyrus all to herself as well. Yes, things would work out just fine.
An intermission was announced, to be followed shortly by the midnight supper. Ol
ivia excused herself from her dancing partner to rest her aching feet. Her new slippers were proving challenging for a night full of dancing. She had almost reached an empty chair along the wall when she heard, “Yoo-hoo! Olivia!”
It was Lady Wainwright.
Something about the woman irked Olivia. Perhaps it was her knowledge of Lady Wainwright wanting Cyrus for a husband. Gossip tonight had also revealed she had even offered to be his mistress when he’d made it clear he had no wish to remarry, an offer he’d flatly rejected to the amusement of the ton. She, however, had persisted.
Olivia turned to see her approaching, followed by a very handsome man she had not yet seen tonight. He was not quite as tall as Cyrus, but his form appeared every bit as muscular. His blonde hair appeared to be streaked by time in the sun and his skin was so tanned. He also had green eyes identical to their host. Olivia decided she’d not exaggerated his good looks after all.
“Olivia, dear. This is my younger son, Lord Derrick Stratton. He detests attention and snuck in to avoid a more public introduction.” Lady Wainwright laughed. “Derrick, this is Lady Olivia von Klor, daughter of the late Earl of Eddingham.” She stressed the words as if it should be of significance to him.
The look of indifference on his face disappeared and interest sparked in his eyes. “Ah, yes, of course. It is my pleasure Olivia—may I call you that?” He bowed and kissed her hand, not taking his eyes off of hers.
His kiss burned her fingers, but for a different reason than when Cyrus had kissed her. She couldn’t put her finger on why. It felt, what? Dangerous? She wasn’t sure she liked it.
A broad smile appeared on his face then, putting her more at ease. She was being ridiculous. “Yes, you may call me Olivia.”
“And you must call me Derrick, I insist. I understand you have interest in my services. Tutoring, that is.” He gave her a devilish grin.
