Stephanie James (25 page)

Roses.

• • •

“Of course it is all very difficult nowadays to find suitable servants,” said Lady Denham. “The time and effort one must take and invest in order to train them.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “It is all simply exhausting. Would you not agree, your grace?”

“I suppose one could say it is exhausting, yes,” the duchess said diplomatically.

Everyone took a sip of their tea. Olivia, however, did not. She was too busy watching everyone in the room, which seemed to be filled with London’s finest. A viscountess, a dame, a few countesses and even a marquess’s wife were all scattered about the room. Olivia had not put forth any effort in remembering their names, or into noticing anything about them in general except for the fact that each of the women had at least one daughter with them. The viscountess had three daughters with her.

The duchess, Lady Amelia, and Lady Lillian Charlesworth were present, of course. But also in attendance was Lady Lillian’s mother, the Right Honorable Countess of Denham, who acted every bit as haughty as her name might imply. She was the epitome of snobbery and had displayed herself as being such to Olivia within the first five minutes of entering the room … after having been properly announced of course.

Never once since tea began had the Lady Denham stopped complaining about something. First it was the current fashion trends — she had thought them too risqué. Second came her complaints about the horridness of the latest Italian Opera to be released — she had thought it too passionate to be proper. Next came her complaints about keeping up with multiple houses, then the dreadful bother of keeping up with current decorative trends for said houses, and then finally about finding servants for all of the houses. Really, if it were all such a burden, Olivia thought to herself, perhaps the woman should give up and move to the country and be a hermit for the rest of her life … in a county far, far away from Dorset, naturally.

But apparently Lady Denham simply loved to complain. And each time she found a new topic about which to complain, the Right Honorable Bore would always finish with, “would you not agree, your grace.” In fact, the duchess was the only person in the room with whom the countess appeared to be interested in conversing. But as the duchess was the highest-ranking peer in the room, little mystery existed as to why this was.

And when the subject of the duchess’s eldest son arose, Olivia understood a bit more clearly as to why Lady Denham was so keen on behaving in such a solicitous manner. Even more shameless was the fact that Lady Denham had brought up the subject herself.

“Do you hear from Lord Skivington often, your grace?” asked Lady Denham.

At this question the duchess was overcome with obvious distress about her eldest son. Sadness appeared in her eyes and she breathed rather deeply. “Not as much as I would like,” she said. “But we know that he is alive and in good health.”

“Marvelous,” said Lady Denham. She raised her teacup to her lips, but before taking a sip, Lady Denham’s next question was, though asked in as casual a tone as she could manage, by far and away the most desperate thing Olivia had ever heard.

“Do you know when he is expected to return?”

But no one else seemed to hear the desperation, for as soon as this question was uttered, they demonstrated themselves to be equally as desperate. Every lady in the room — mothers and daughters alike — all leant forward, anxious for the duchess’s response. It dawned on Olivia quite suddenly that this was why so many daughters were in attendance. It was not for a mere bonding experience, or even to enjoy a nice visit and tea. Each mother was hoping to see her daughter become a duchess. Though she tried to suppress the thought, Olivia could not help but think back on the first dinner she had shared with Lord Philip, after which he had viciously accused her of trying to trick him into marriage. When every lady in the room moved forward in their seats, Lord Philip’s reaction to her that night became justified entirely, though Olivia would never give him the pleasure of telling him so.

“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.”

“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?