Lady Olivia's Undoing

by Anne Gallagher

  Olivia smiled. “Not especially, but now that I have found you, there is something of import I must speak with you about.”

  Henry Wade, the Marquess of Dunbury, climbed inside the small equipage. “I say, Olivia, the next time you wish to have a clandestine meeting, do use the barouche.” His shins raked the opposite seat. He gazed at Olivia. “Still as beautiful as the day I met you.”

  Olivia felt her face grow hot. “Henry, do not be absurd. I’ve grown as faded and worn as an old blanket.”

  “Not to me.” His smile threatened to bring tears.

  Thirty-seven years earlier, Henry Wade had asked Olivia to run away with him before her marriage to Fitzhugh. When she declined, Henry joined the Army. He never married. Henry gained the marquisate after his brother’s death, as well as six orphaned nieces of marriageable age. Every woman between six and sixty swooned at his feet when he returned to London. Henry Wade, Marquess of Dunbury was the most eligible bachelor Society had seen in years.

  Olivia had no idea Henry was on his way home from the Army when she and Penny had fled to Wakefield-by-the-Sea. By the time Olivia returned to London, she was in love with John and Henry had lost his heart to her cousin, Catherine Churchill Gantry. Olivia and Henry would never be able to live the life she had once envisioned. But he would always remain a very dear friend.

  “Henry, you must tell me, why is John Quiggins needed for this trip to Spain? Surely, there are other men who can speak the language.”

  Henry raised a brow. “Is that why you wished to see me?” He huffed. “Quiggins is a valuable asset with battle field experience. Olivia, you cannot understand how much we need to gain Madrid. It could end the war.”

  Olivia stamped her foot against the carriage floor. “Why does everyone think I cannot understand? Of course, I understand how important Madrid is. My question is why do you need to take Quiggins? He is practically an old man.” John was six-and-fifty, Olivia and Henry’s age, and being as far from old as either of them.

  Henry cocked his head as he looked at her. “There is more to this than you are saying, Olivia. What is so important that Quiggins remain in London?”

  Could she explain it to Henry? Would he understand? He knew John’s post as her butler was a ruse. Could Henry recognize and accept her and John’s life together, or treat it as idle gossip, never taken seriously. She couldn’t be sure.

  “There is nothing other than my affection for him as part of my household. I should hate to see him hurt, or even killed because of Arthur Wellesley’s foolishness.”

  Henry took her hand. “Olivia, this is very sweet of you to try to keep him from going, but Quiggins is honor bound to serve.”

  Olivia looked out the window. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She cleared her throat. “Very well. But promise me Henry, you will look after him. Do not allow anything to happen to him.” She grabbed his hand. “You must promise me.”

  Henry cocked his head again. “Of course, Olivia, if it’s that important to you, I promise.”

  “Do not say it so, Henry. You must mean it. You must promise to watch over him. You must bring him back alive.”

  Henry patted her hand. “I promise I will watch over him.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” Olivia leaned back against the seat.

  Henry Wade climbed from Olivia’s carriage and swept another courtly bow. “If you are out and about, you must promise to save me at least one dance.”

  “Of course, Henry. I look forward to it.” Olivia wondered briefly over his request – it was rumored he and Catherine were on the verge of marriage – but then she dismissed it. Two old friends on the dance floor should not raise any alarms.

  As the footman closed the door, Olivia said, “Let us return to Caymore now.” Olivia had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  At Caymore House, John met her at the door. Luggage and assorted portmanteau’s lined the front hall. Voices echoed in the hall from the yellow salon.

  “Penny has come to her senses?” Olivia asked.

  John shook his head. “Your cousin has arrived en familia. Where were you so early?”

  “I took a drive through the Park to clear my muddled thoughts.” There was no reason to tell him she had seen Henry. Olivia took off her coat and gloves and handed them to John. “Would you mind fixing me a cup of tea?” She smiled and walked to the salon.

  “Cousin Olivia, how well you look,” Ariana, the eldest of Constance’s two girls walked with a cane across the room. “It is so good to see you again.” Ariana kissed Olivia on the cheek. “Thank you so much for putting us up,” she whispered. “Do forgive us for intruding.”

  “Nonsense, dear girl. That is what family is for.” Olivia turned and smiled at Constance. “How are you feeling? Have you acquired your land legs back yet? How do you do, dearest?” Olivia hugged Constance, perhaps a little tighter than she usually did. She had missed her.

  “I am very well,” Constance said, and sniffed into a handkerchief. “And the girls are well you see, as is Reginald.”

  Olivia hadn’t noticed him lurking in the corner and gave a slight start at the sight of him. “Reginald, awfully lovely you to have you here.” Her gaze caught Arabella’s across the room. “Bella, how tall you’ve grown. Must be six inches since the last I saw you.” Olivia walked across the room and linked her arm through Bella’s. She said, “I know you only just arrived, but what say you to a ball? I have an invitation to Winsbarren’s tonight and I thought to show you off. After a proper rest of course.”

  “Oh yes, Mama,” Bella said. “Let’s do go to the ball. I long for a ball. Father, may we?”

  “The trunks have not even been brought upstairs,” Constance said. “How will we ever be ready in time?”

  “It is eleven o’clock in the morning, Constance,” Reginald said. “If you cannot be ready for a ball in ten hours time, then I have married the wrong woman. If you will excuse me ladies, I have several commissions to attend.”

  He nodded once to Olivia, kissed his wife and daughters, then left the room.

  “He’s a very busy man,” Constance said.

  Olivia smiled at the girls. “Let me find someone,” she walked to the bell pull, “to help you sort through the luggage and find your ball gowns. We’ll send them downstairs for a quick press, have a nice luncheon, and then we shall all take a good long nap.”

  John stepped into the room.

  “Quiggins, we are going to need several footmen to transport this luggage upstairs. The girls are going to sort it for their evening gowns. And ask Cook to put on extra bath water.” She ushered Ariana and Arabella out the door. “If you direct Quiggins, he will separate the bags and show you to your rooms.” Olivia hurried the girls out, shut the door, and turned to Constance. “How are you truly, darling?”

  “I am very well,” Constance said. “However, the trip was dreadful. I shall never sail again.” She leaned into the back of the chair for support. “The bright spot I have not told you is that Bella is engaged.”

  “Engaged? To who? She is just a baby.”

  “Ten-and-nine this past summer.” Constance put her handkerchief to her nose and sniffed. “Stephen Summerville is an American millionaire. Took one look at Bella and never glanced at another. Truthfully, how could he? American girls are so vulgar.”

  “I take it Ariana did not have her pick of suitors.” Olivia asked. A fall off her pony when she was twelve had left her with a disfigured leg. It did not bode well for her chances in finding a husband.

  “She says she is content for now. I think that will change after Bella is married and has a child. Ariana will see what Bella has and make up her mind and marry a gentle young man.”

  “Wishful thinking on your part.” Olivia walked to the table, picked up a small piece of cake, and popped it in her mouth. “What are you really doing here, Constance? And do not tell me it is because of renovations to Hargrave House.”

  “I hardly know. Reginald insisted we stay here. He refused
to remain in Cornwall. I thought, as the girls did, we would spend Christmas at the seat. I have no idea why he wishes to remain in Town.” She sat at the long table.

  “Yes, especially here.” Olivia poured a cup of tea and brought it over to Constance. She poured another for herself and sat across from Constance. “You would think he would stay away as my Boxing Day Ball is very near to date. An easy excuse from Cornwall.”

  “Olivia, I must say, I have never seen Reginald so frightening.” Constance swirled the spoon in her cup.

  “What do you mean? Has he harmed you?” From the very first moment she had met him forty years earlier, Olivia did not trust Reginald. He had wanted to marry her, almost relentlessly pursued her, but Olivia had seen something in Reginald that she could not tolerate. Jealousy. Olivia could never marry a man who would not trust her. Six months later, Reginald married Constance. Reginald could never be jealous over Constance. Constance would never stray.

  “No, Olivia,” Constance said. “Nothing of the sort. Reginald seems to be involved in some kind of intrigue. I cannot tell you what or whom it involves. Since arriving in England, he is nearly giddy with anticipation, happily waiting for the day when he is triumphant in his resolution. I have never seen him so… cocksure of himself. As if he cannot lose.”

  Olivia was curious. For years, she had tried to find something against Reginald, but for all his lack of character in her quarter, he was a decent and some would say, kind-hearted man. Reginald Leighton, Fitzhugh’s nephew, now the current Duke of Hargrove, sat on several boards to charities, most pertaining to the Army widows and orphans. He was a member of White’s, although had a few Tory friends, but was on all accounts, considered a conservative.

  Reginald doted on his wife and daughters, with never a hint of scandal spoken of him. Olivia couldn’t decide if he was as boring as he appeared, or a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  Throughout the years, Constance had never once complained about her husband. He seemed to be a very loving spouse and father. And however reluctant she felt, Olivia did have to give Reginald credit for taking Constance as his wife. She was a true Churchill, stubborn to a fault and did not suffer fool’s gladly for all her maladies, quaking nerves, and personal drama. Constance was also one of only a very few whom Olivia considered a true friend. And because of that, Olivia had never spoken a bad word about Reginald to anyone.

  “What kind of intrigue?” Olivia asked. “A scheme? For money? For political gain? What do you think it could be?” What indeed?

  “I can hardly tell you.” Constance took a sip of her tea. “And there is really nothing to explain it. I have no evidence, no proof. It is only a wife’s instinct.”

  Olivia smiled. “And sometimes that is all the proof we need.” She took another bite of cake. “Shall you attend Winsbarren’s with me?”

  Constance rolled her eyes. “Oh, Livvy. Could we not rest for a few days before we make the circuit? I am so travel-weary. When we arrived in Cornwall, the house was full of the lesser Leighton’s. Truthfully, I think that is why Reginald insisted we leave.”

  “Come with me to the ball. If only for a few hours.” Olivia asked. “I must go. They are particular friends of mine.”

  “And how does John feel about you traipsing all over Town without him?” Constance had been made aware of the circumstances surrounding John, by the barrage of letters from Olivia while Constance and her family visited America.

  “John understands it is part of who I am,” Olivia said sadly.

  Constance leaned over and patted Olivia’s hand. “What is it?”

  “I am weary of playing upstairs, downstairs. I feel like I am sneaking around on poor Fuzzy even though he has been dead a decade. John refuses to marry me, says we would become a laughingstock, that he would tarnish my reputation.” Olivia did not wish to think so and remained steadfast in her belief that he would be accepted into Society, but seeing Henry again brought up the demands of being bound to her title. Would she rather marry for love or money?

  “That is true, dearest. The great Olivia Leighton… married to a butler. That would just be too outré.” Constance rubbed her fingers on the furrows in her forehead.

  “John is not a butler. He holds the rank of Colonel in His Majesty’s Army.” Olivia did not sound as convincing as she once had. Even to herself.

  Constance took a sip of tea. “Perhaps if he were Pitt, or Grenville, with a family name, he could rise above his station, but who are John’s people? Humble missionaries. He has no connections. He has nothing but his reputation as a soldier.”

  Olivia pushed back her chair. She had thought about that as well. “Yes. And that is something I can say for few men of my acquaintance. John Quiggins is the very best of men and has done nothing to be ashamed of.” At least that was true.

  “Olivia, please, I did not mean to start a quarrel. I agree with you. However, there is something sordid about sleeping with a man you are not, at least, engaged to. Goodness me, you cannot even share dinner together. Honestly, Olivia, what will people think?”

  “There is more.” Olivia cut a slice of cake and placed it on a small plate.

  “More? How can there be any more? Is that not enough?” Constance took the cake and began to eat it.

  Olivia cut another slice. “John is to go to Spain on some kind of diplomatic mission.”

  Constance choked and reached for her tea. “What?”

  “John told me not two days ago. I spoke to Richard Wellesley, the Foreign Secretary. He claims once he finishes their mission they will be extricated and brought back to England post haste.” Olivia stabbed her fork into the cake, pulled off a large chunk, and stuffed it into her mouth.

  “Well, that does not sound so serious.” Constance took a delicate bite.

  “What if he does not return? I am helplessly in love with him.” Olivia threw her fork across her plate, the cake half-eaten, and pushed it away. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. “Oh, Constance, my heart wants John. However, in my head I know I can never be free of Society’s chains. I am sick of living this charade all for the sake of upholding someone’s ancestry. I just want someone to love who loves me, and not have to worry about my family name, Fuzzy’s title, or who I shall become next. Can you understand?”

  “Of course, dearest.” Constance took Olivia’s hand. “That is what we all want.”

  After a leisurely lunch, Constance went upstairs to her bedchamber for a lie-down and the girls asked for the small carriage to take them for a drive to Piccadilly. Olivia sat in her room in the chair by the window. She liked to look out over the tree tops. John’s footsteps sounded outside the wall.

  He stepped into the room. “I am staying in the room closest to the attic if you would like to visit after your return.”

  “Good heavens, why? Secure yourself another room, on the third floor. Surely, this mausoleum has enough bedrooms to support everyone comfortably.”

  “And how will you explain your presence on the other side of the house?” John asked.

  Olivia shook her head. “I do not understand why you are being so tedious about your room situation. You will sleep with me as you always have.”

  John shot her a look. “I do not think the Duke of Hargrave would approve of me bedding his late uncle’s wife. I shan’t take the chance he could catch us. He does not seem a particularly jovial fellow and I would hate to see what he would do to your reputation.”

  “Yes, I know. Constance tells me he is up to something, some plot, or intrigue. She cannot imagine what it is. However, I believe you may be right. Perhaps we should be extra vigilant in our care.” She walked over to John and wrapped her arms around his waist. “The hell with the Duke of Hargrave. He will not dictate where I sleep in my own house. Or with whom.” She kissed John on the mouth. “Now come to bed. I wish to make love to you. It will be the only chance we have until tomorrow.” She kissed him again. “As you must train the new butler. And Summers is arrived. I do believe he will need the first flo
or bedroom.” Olivia led John to her bed and then untied his cravat. “And you are leaving in two days. I wish to hold you as much as I can.” She kissed him once more. “I do love you John Quiggins.”

  “I love you, Livvy,” John said.

  Olivia pulled him onto the bed.

  Chapter Seven

  Reginald had insisted on taking the Hargrave carriage as well as Olivia’s to the ball, although the Caymore barouche was more than comfortable enough to hold everyone. Olivia pursed her lips as they put on their coats in the front parlor.

  Constance pulled Olivia aside. “Reginald keeps his carriage in case Ariana’s leg pains her she would be able to return here quickly. He is not such a monster as you make him out to be.”

  Arabella traveled with Olivia and Olivia marveled at how much the girl reminded her of herself at that age. Bella glimmered with excitement over returning to London Society. She missed her friends and wanted to tell them of all her adventures, especially Stephen.

  Before Olivia could ask about the mysterious fiancé, the carriage pulled up to Brumbley Hall. They waited for the others before exiting the carriage and they all went in together.

  Leaving coats with a footman, Olivia and Bella entered the grand Brumbley Hall. Jack Trent, Viscount Winsbarren, and his father, the Earl of Brumbley met them at the entrance to the Great Room.

  Olivia kissed Old Brumbley’s cheek and asked after his health.

  “It is better now for seeing you, my dear.” He patted her hand. “Go in and enjoy yourself. I shall seek you out later for a quiet chat.”

  Olivia nodded to Winsbarren. “Where is Rowena?”

  “Overseeing the disaster in the kitchen. She shall be out presently. I will send her to find you.”

  As Constance introduced the girls, Olivia looked out across the crowded room. The steps to the hall gave her a great advantage. She spotted her cousin Mary.