“I intend to take her to Scotland as soon as the rains have eased,” he said.
Carey glowered at him, and reached for the whiskey decanter again. “I think you’ve become entirely too bold, Tolly. Lest you forget, you are the steward here. You do not inform me what you will or will not do. Nor do you determine when.”
Harrison stood calmly, his gaze unwavering, silently daring Carey to say more.
But Carey did precisely what Harrison would have guessed—he looked down and poured another whiskey. “Send her away. I don’t care where you send her, but send her from Everdon Court.”
Harrison gave him a curt nod and started for the door.
“One other thing,” Carey snapped. Harrison forced himself to look around.
His lordship’s gaze was piercing as he asked, “How did you find my wife while I was away?”
Every nerve in Harrison’s body fired at the question. He’d found her sad, mistreated, and incomprehensibly brave in the face of it all. “I beg your pardon?”
“Was she congenial?” he asked with a shrug. “Did she engage? Or did she mope about the house missing her husband?”
What in hell was this?
“I would not know, my lord. I hardly saw her.”
“Indeed?” Carey said, smirking a little. “It is interesting you should say that, for when I asked Brock if you had occasion to speak to her, he told me that you had met with her in the garden one afternoon.”
It was all Harrison could do to keep from launching himself at Carey and putting his fist in the middle of his face. “I did indeed meet her to discuss the situation with her sister.”
“Then you saw her,” Carey said with a smirk.
“On that occasion, yes,” Tolly said. “Is there anything else about which you are curious?”
Carey frowned darkly. “Mind yourself, Tolly. You may go.” He turned away, to the sideboard.
Harrison strode from the room, walking straight to his office and shutting the door. He stood with his hands on his hips, his anger ratcheting up with each breath, until he whirled about and punched the wall with his fist as hard as he could, breaking through the plaster.
“Ouch,”
he muttered, wincing painfully, and stretched out his fingers, shaking his hand.
There had to be an escape, a solution. If he could think of how to remove Olivia from this house without ending up on the end of a noose, he could save them all. He just had to think how to do that.
T
he next afternoon, a restless Alexa heard Rue exclaim, “Goodness! Milady!” She stepped out of the parlor into the foyer to see Olivia hand a wet umbrella to Rue, who promptly stuffed it in the umbrella stand without shaking it off on the stoop.
“Good afternoon, Livi,” Alexa said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I find the company here more appealing than at the main house,” Olivia said. She smiled at Rue and handed over her cloak.
“Thank you, mu’um,” Rue said, and curtsied.
“Hang it on the coatrack, Rue,” Alexa said. As Rue moved to hang the cloak, Alexa asked, “Does your husband approve of your calling at the dowager house to walk among the fallen and the banished?”
Olivia smiled ruefully. “If I feared everything my husband would not approve of, I would never leave my bed.” She linked her arm with Alexa’s. “And I should be overjoyed to be banished to the dowager house, were I you.”
“Come and have a look before you declare it,” Alexa said, and pulled Olivia into the parlor. “You will find the furnishings rather dreary. I trust Harry will be amenable to a few small changes.”
“Dreary!” Olivia exclaimed, looking around. “I find it charming. I hope you will not burden him with such things as furnishing.”
“I do not intend to burden him,” Alexa said impatiently. And besides, she intended to preside over Ashwood—not this old place. “But I think you are right—I shall be quite happy with Harry.”
Olivia looked around the room. “I can scarcely imagine how anyone could be unhappy with him. Nevertheless, darling, why on earth did you announce to Bernie and Lady Martha that you intended to marry him?”
“I thought we’d agreed to it.”
“We agreed to lay the seeds of it. Not to announce it.”
“What difference does it make?” Alexa asked with a shrug.
“It makes all the difference,” Olivia said patiently. “Surely you understand that if either of them speaks of it now—particularly since Bernie is convinced that with Edward returned, you should wait for warmer weather to wed—that everyone will wonder why you hurried up to Scotland.”
Alexa sighed heavily. “I didn’t think it would cause any harm. And now that I’ve said it, I scarcely think it matters, really. Will it not be evident to all in a matter of weeks? If you ask me, Harry and I ought to leave here altogether straightaway.”
“Please do not say that,” Olivia said. “It pains me to hear you say it.”
“Very well, I won’t say it. But I think it,” Alexa said petulantly, and sat down. She wanted out of this house—it was beginning to feel like a prison. “To think it’s been scarcely a fortnight since we came to this plan,” Alexa said, shaking her head. “I wanted nothing to do with it, but now . . . now I see the wisdom in it.” She smiled sheepishly at Olivia. “I am, for the first time in many weeks, quite looking forward to my life.” Harry was not Carlos, but she had accepted the inevitable. She would never be with Carlos, and therefore there was no point in dreaming of it. “Who knows?” she added with a smile. “Perhaps we shall add another child to our little brood.”
Olivia turned away from Alexa to examine the china bowl on the mantel. “Perhaps you will,” she said, sounding distant.
Her sister feared losing her, Alexa realized. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, Livi,” she said. “I mean that very sincerely. You have always been there to help me.”
“Ah, well,” Olivia said, and picked up the bowl. “You would do the same for me.”
“Do you really think I would?” Alexa asked curiously. “I would hope that I would. But the shoe is never on the other foot, is it? I am the one who always needs you. I scarcely know what I’d do without you.”
Olivia looked curiously at her.
“I know very well how I am,” Alexa said to Olivia’s obvious surprise. “I rely on you for everything. I always have and I suppose I always shall. But this time, you saved me, Livi.” She put her hand on her belly and imagined having to bribe a headmaster to allow her child into a school. “I am sorry I didn’t understand it sooner, but I see it now. You knew what I needed when I couldn’t or wouldn’t see it, and you saved me in spite of myself.”
Olivia blushed. “You make too much of it, darling. I only meant to help—”
“But you always help,” Alexa insisted. She stood up. “Thank you. For everything. For always indulging me, and for guiding me when Mamma died, and for saving me when I couldn’t even see that I needed saving. I owe you my life, and the life of my child.” She put her arms around Olivia and hugged her.
“Oh, Alexa,” Olivia said, and squeezed her tightly, then let go. She smiled thinly. “Please, don’t make so much of it.”
The sound of the front door opening reached them, followed by a man’s stride across the foyer. Harry appeared in the doorway, still wearing his cloak. He seemed surprised to see them there, and looked from Alexa to Olivia.
“Good afternoon,” Alexa said.
“Good afternoon,” Harry responded; his gaze was on Olivia.
“I, ah . . . I hope you don’t mind that I’ve come,” Olivia said, clasping her hands tightly before her.
The marquis had done that to her, Alexa thought. He’d made her afraid of her own shadow.
“Of course not. You are always most welcome. Always. Is everything—”
“Everything is fine, Mr. Tolly,” Olivia said quickly, and smiled. “I wanted to see how Alexa was faring and to walk. I feel as if I have been caged by the weather, and I thought it would be nice to go out, even if in the rain.” She put her hand to her nape. “I should go back.”
“You needn’t run off,” Alexa said.
“Edward will wonder where I’ve got off to.”
“Shall I walk with you?” Harry asked.
“No, no,” she said, smiling at him. “You should stay and . . . and speak with Alexa. I am certain there is much you have to discuss.”
“Indeed there is,” Alexa said, and sat on the settee. “Quite a lot, Harry.”
“At least let me see you out,” Harry said.
He was a good steward, solicitous of the marchioness. Alexa hoped he was that solicitous of his wife.
“Thank you,” Olivia said softly, and walked through the door. He followed her out without looking at Alexa.
Alexa sat on the settee and ran her hands along the velvet upholstery, her fingers sliding over a rough patch that was beginning to wear. She could hear Harry and her sister whispering in the foyer, then heard the door open and close.
Harry appeared a few moments later without his cloak. From the corner of her eye, Alexa saw Olivia dart by the window beneath her umbrella.
“How are you today?” Alexa asked cheerfully.
Harry looked at her strangely. “Fine, thank you. And you?”
“Very well, thank you.” She smiled.
“Splendid,” he said absently. “Rue!” he called. “Rue, what has become of the brandy?”
“The brandy, my lord?” she asked, popping into the parlor.
“Sir,” he corrected her. “Yes, the brandy. An amber liquid in a crystal decanter. Quite necessary on a cold, wet day such as this.”
“Did you not drink it, my lord?”
“I am not a lord,” Harry said patiently. “And I did not drink an entire bottle of brandy. Please go and inquire of Mrs. Lampley.”
“Yes, I will my . . . sir,” Rue said.
“May I speak frankly?” Alexa asked when Rue had left.
“Of course,” he said, and began to sort through the few bottles at the sideboard. “Feel free to speak whatever is on your mind.”
“What is on my mind is Everdon Court. The marquis cannot bear the sight of me, and I can scarcely abide him. I should like to leave.”
“I think it best if you remain at the dowager house for a time,” he said.
“I had in mind something a little more drastic than that.”
Harry held up a decanter and frowned at it thoughtfully.
“Are you listening?” she asked, and stood up. “Harry, let’s leave here. Let’s go somewhere the marquis is not. I cannot bear to be confined to the dowager house and not allowed to see my sister because it displeases her husband.”
Harry spared her a glance then. “And go where, Alexa?” he asked, sounding a bit impatient with her.
“I thought perhaps we might . . . we might go to Ashwood,” she said.
Harry stilled. He turned his head and stared hard at her, as if he could not believe he’d heard her correctly. His eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you know of Ashwood?”
His voice was dangerously low, and Alexa’s heart began to flutter with uncertainty. “The man who came to see you said it. He said you had inherited.”
“I don’t recall that he said so to you,” he said suspiciously.
“I overheard it,” she lied.
His expression darkened.
“What?” she asked. “What have I said?”
Harry suddenly closed the distance between them and stared down at her in a manner that made her feel as if she were a child, incapable of understanding something. “You must not mention it again.”
“But why?” she asked. The letter had been very clear that Ashwood belonged to him. Why would he not admit it?
“Because I have asked you not to. It is none of your concern, Alexa. We shall make our home here, as planned.”
“
You
planned this. Not me. The marquis cannot bear the sight of me.”
“Then you must resign yourself to the idea that for a time, at least, it will be a quiet existence. You will have enough to occupy you when the child is born.”
Alexa gaped at him. “But it’s not fair!”
“Not
fair
?” he snapped. “Shall I tell you what is not fair? That I am giving up my life for you. That your sister must languish in the prison of Everdon Court every day for the rest of her life. That
you,
in your astonishing lapse of judgment, have brought this on all our heads!
That
is not fair!”