At Caymore House, Manning helped Olivia settle Ariana in her bedchamber and then Olivia returned downstairs. Her mind was a muddle of thoughts – Henry Wade had asked her to marry him. She said yes. What would she say to John? She couldn’t possibly tell him. John needed to be reconciled in his mind, clear-headed and sober when he went to Spain. He did not need the complications of a love triangle to interfere with his duty to the Crown. If something happened to him because of her, she would never forgive herself. She stood outside the kitchen door. Would Henry tell John about the proposal? That was a horrible thought. But if it happened, there was nothing she could do about it. She pushed open the kitchen door.
John sat at the long plank table.
“Oh.” Olivia said. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone upstairs already.” Olivia stepped inside the warm kitchen. Seeing they were alone, she touched his cheek. “How are you? You must be exhausted. Come to bed.”
John took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Do I not always wait for you?”
“Yes, you do.” Olivia tugged on his hand. “I am going to miss you so, John. Must you really go?” John followed her up the servants’ staircase.
“Yes, I must, and you know it.” John mimicked her footfalls on the treads as he followed behind her. Olivia continued down the hall to the bedroom as John disappeared behind the wall. She opened her bedchamber door and stepped inside, closed the door and locked it. John stepped out from behind the armoire. Their little charade had not fooled any of the staff, but the servants were loyal and would not gossip.
Olivia laid her gloves and reticule on the edge of the small table, took off all her rings, and dropped them in a tray on the dresser. She picked up the buttonhook and walked over to John. “Would you mind?”
John took the implement from her and turned her around. His hands worked deftly to undo the twenty or so buttons down the length of the gown. “I’m afraid Jennings is going to have to undress you from now on,” he said. The last button unfastened, he parted the silk and placed a gentle kiss between her shoulders.
“Yes, poor Jennings will have to wait up for me now.” Olivia let the gown fall to her feet and stepped out of it. “Come to bed.” She slipped out of her shoes and unfastened her bracelet as she walked to the bed. Dropping the bracelet on the table, she lifted the covers and patted the other side of the bed.
John stripped down to his drawers and climbed in beside her.
“How was your day?” Olivia asked.
“It was all very well.” John sat up against the headboard.
“Is Manning catching on? How is dear Summers getting about?” Olivia scooted over and laid her head against John’s chest. She wrapped her arm around his waist.
John rested his hand in her hair and began pulling out the pins. “Oh, yes. Manning is superb. Top rate fellow. Haverlane is lucky to have him.” John plucked more pins. “Summers is having some difficulty, but that was to be expected. He cannot keep up with the young ladies’ comings and goings. Andrew keeps him entertained in the pantry most mornings so he feels he has accomplished something useful. Andrew is a good lad. When Manning returns to Haverlane, he would be a good replacement. He will grow into his position. I do not think you will be displeased.” John ran his hand through Olivia’s hair and plucked one more pin from the blonde tresses. “There, I think that should have done.”
Olivia ran her fingers lightly over John’s belly. “You are the very best of men, John Quiggins. I hold you in the highest estimable regard.”
John chuckled. “As I hold you, my dearest, Livvy.” He picked up the pins from the bed and placed them on the night table. “Come now, let us to bed. To sleep perchance to dream. I must away presently.”
Olivia waited for John to reposition himself and then curled herself against his chest. She would let him sleep and wake him with a kiss.
John stood in the middle of the room buttoning his shirt.
“Let me at least walk you downstairs,” Olivia said. She flung the covers back.
“No,” he said. John walked over and pulled the blankets to cover her exposed breasts. “I want this to be the last thing I remember of you while I’m away. Naked and sleepy from our lovemaking.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I shall miss you very much, Livvy. Do not forget that.”
Olivia cleared her throat, batted her eyelashes, and choked back a sob. “Oh, John.”
“Do not cry. I shall return before you even know I’m gone.” He picked up his jacket, shrugged into it, and then leaned down for one more kiss. “I love you.” He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a small jewelry box. “This was my grandmother’s. I want you to have it.”
In the box lay a beautiful sapphire and diamond bracelet.
Olivia brought her fingers to her lips. “Oh, John. It’s beautiful.”
“I know it is not a betrothal ring, but consider it an engagement present.” John kissed her once more and then walked to the secret door and disappeared.
Olivia prayed for forgiveness, for strength, but most of all for John, and Henry’s survival. She bargained with God; that she would gladly give them both up upon their return – as long as they came back alive.
And then she cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Ten
It was two days before Olivia climbed out of bed.
Constance stood in the middle of her room. “I chary having to say I told you so, but I told you something like this would happen, did I not? Now what are you going to do?”
“Leave me, Constance, you have no idea how I’m feeling.” Olivia wiped her eyes with a damp handkerchief. She hated being awake. Crushing sadness and guilt consumed her. Olivia looked at her cousin. “I want to die.”
Constance tsk-tsked. “Now you sound like me. Well, you cannot die. Your engagement is the talk of London, which means you must make an appearance.” Constance strode to the chair in the corner and picked up Olivia’s wrinkled gown. “Where is Jennings to not take care of this? She should be ashamed.” Constance shook out the garment.
“I sent her away.” Olivia sniffed from her bed. “I did not want her to see me in my state. It would frighten her.” She had not even suffered as cruelly when Fitzhugh had died.
“Well, do you know that Gillyford came to the ball after you left? He heard about your engagement. Gillyford claimed Uncle Marlborough had already approved your match with him. He demanded satisfaction and challenged Henry to meet him at dawn.”
Olivia sat up. “They fought a duel?”
Constance giggled as she hung the gown in the armoire. “Damn fool Gilly fell asleep in the carriage on the way to the meet. Henry had no desire to wake him, and Gilly’s man forfeited. There was no use dying over a quarrel that was not his. Your name is all over Town.” She walked to the dresser, picked up several newssheets, and handed them to Olivia. The headlines read –
Heartbreak in London – Most Eligible Bachelor to Wed
Marquess off the Market
Duchess of Caymore and Marquess of Dunbury to be Married
Olivia threw them over the side of the bed. If it weren’t for John, she would be inordinately pleased. She prayed he had not seen the papers before he left London.
“Well, what are you going to do? You cannot be bereft and engaged at the same time.” Constance hovered by the foot of the bed. “Besides you must call on Dunbury Manor. You must explain this to the girls.”
Olivia threw herself backward on the bed. “I sent a note round yesterday. Oh, what must they think of me? Stealing Henry away from Catherine?”
“You have done no such thing. She left him. As a matter of fact, the family is very pleased you will finally be able to marry Henry.” Constance sat on the bed and patted Olivia’s leg under the blanket. “You should have been allowed to marry him all those years ago.”
“Yes, I should have.” Olivia sniffled. “I love Henry. I have loved him my entire life. And now he is off to blasted Spain! I cannot even enjoy my own engagement.” Olivia burst
into fresh tears, which turned into sobs when she thought of John. Oh, what had she done?
“Constance, John asked me to marry him.”
“What?”
“Yes, the morning he departed. He gave me this.” Olivia reached under the pillow and brought out a small jewel case. She handed it to Constance.
Constance flipped the lid and gasped. “Livvy.”
“Yes, I know. Now do you understand why I have been abed for two days? I cannot imagine what is going to happen when they find out I am engaged to both of them. Constance, they are going to Spain. Together!” Olivia reached for the blanket and wiped fresh tears.
“What are you going to do?” Constance asked.
“I can hardly tell you. Wait for them to come home and try and explain as best I can.”
“In the meantime, are you going to acknowledge Henry’s engagement?”
“Not yet. I cannot make any decisions until I speak with Catherine.”
“Catherine?” Constance asked. “Why ever for?”
“Something does not add up. I saw Henry and Catherine together last summer and they were inordinately happy. Catherine left near the first of November. I wish to know what happened in those months to drive her away.”
Constance shook her head. “You cannot think he beat her.”
“No, Henry would never raise his hand to a woman for all his years on the battlefield.” Olivia flung the covers aside. She could not move forward with wedding plans until she spoke with Catherine. Why would Catherine be so foolish to give up the perfect man? Half of the women in London swooned when he walked into a room. Unless Henry was not as perfect as Olivia thought him to be. But that was not possible. She climbed off the bed. “I will drive down to Tunbridge Wells to see her.”
Constance clucked. “Now? Olivia, the day after tomorrow is Christmas. And then it is your ball.”
“What is forty miles of good roads? The arrangements for the ball have been finalized for weeks, and if I am traveling on Christmas Day, who will care?” Olivia opened the armoire.
“I take it you have not received an invitation from Penny?”
Olivia sighed, fighting tears. “No, I have not. But I will be perfectly well on my own.”
“I cannot have you all alone for Christmas,” Constance said. “Come be with us.”
“No. I must speak with Catherine before I say anything about Henry. And I must do it before the ball. Ring for Jennings, please. I must get ready.”
An hour later, Olivia waited for the carriage. She sat at the long table in the yellow salon filtering through unanswered mail and invitations. Her eye caught a peculiar script. She snatched the letter and opened it. It was from the Earl of Greenleigh.
Dear Lady Olivia,
I received your note, and have spoken to Cantin about the little house on St. Anne’s Court. He is well pleased to give up the remainder of the lease and assures me he will forward the keys to you. I will speak with you in person anon.
Fondly,
Greenleigh
Olivia tore through the tray of unopened envelopes feeling for keys. She found it on the bottom.
“Manning,” she called. She rose from the table and strode to the hall. “Manning.”
He appeared from the small dining room.
“Send the footman up to the attic to fetch my trunks.”
“Are you going on a trip, Your Grace? Is the ball not two days hence?”
“Yes, Mr. Manning, I am going away, but not until after the ball. However, I like to be well prepared.”
“Of course, Your Grace. To what room would you like them delivered?”
“The sitting room next to my bedchamber. Thank you, Mr. Manning.”
Olivia returned upstairs. She had already begun taking small items from around the house, mementos Fitzhugh had given her, their wedding silver, miniatures of her mother and father, as well as two of Fitzhugh, and a larger portrait. The other things she would leave behind for the legacy to continue.
The trunks were brought down from the attic and Olivia rang for Jennings. When she arrived, Olivia said, “Jennings, would you be a dear and begin packing my things.”
“Are we going on a trip to some tropical clime, Your Grace?” Jennings asked hopefully. She had always wanted to see the West Indies.
Olivia smiled. “No, dearest, not this time. However, I would appreciate it if you would make haste with the task.”
“Your Grace?” Jennings knit her eyebrows together.
“Not now, Jennings, but I will explain later. Please, dearest, could you just pack and make sure you have everything.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I shall pack in corresponding seasons.”
One of Jennings’ most endearing traits. The woman was a genius at organization. “Yes, that would be excellent,” Olivia said.
Jennings nodded and walked toward the closet where Olivia kept her surplus of gowns.
There. Jennings would make quick work of it and perhaps they could bring the trunks tomorrow. She had no plans for Christmas Eve.
When Olivia arrived at the little house, it did not hold as much charm in the dead of winter as it had last June, but soon it would feel cheery. Olivia stopped to pick a few rose heads from the sleeping bushes lining the walkway. On the porch, she inserted the key, and stepped into the house.
Dust motes hung like fairies in the air, and sunlight cast long shadows across the wooden floor. The house was larger than she remembered. A formal parlour off the front door welcomed her. Draping covered the furniture, but Olivia recalled it had been comfortable. The library was across the hall. The mahogany staircase led up to a bright landing.
On the first floor, the dining room windows overlooked a small terrace and an overgrown garden. Pruning would be a welcome task to keep her mind off her troubles. She entered the kitchen through a small serviceable butler’s pantry. The over-sized kitchen had a delightful porch off the back door. A small breakfast room lay behind another door on the other side of the kitchen, which led back to the library.
Upstairs a large bedchamber overtook the entire front of the house, with two smaller rooms in the back. Thankfully, there was a water closet with a large tub. In the attic were two large rooms for servants. She made mental notes of the furnishings she would bring, and which servants she would take with her from Caymore.
Returning downstairs, Olivia was satisfied she would be able to live there in comfort. The house on St. Anne’s Court would be her stepping-stone to the future. It might not be as palatial as the Caymore mansion, but it was a charming roof over her head for the time being. She stepped over the threshold and locked the front door.
“Good morning,” a man’s voice called.
Olivia turned to the street. A tall man stopped and raised his hat.
“Good morning,” Olivia said.
“Are you moving in?” the man asked.
“Yes, yes as a matter of fact I am.” Olivia walked to her carriage. “Do you live here?” She pointed to the house next door.
He pointed diagonally across the cul-de-sac. “Dr. Oliver Black.” He held out his hand.
She certainly couldn’t introduce herself as the Duchess of Caymore. What gossip would that bring? Olivia shook his hand. “Mrs. John Quiggins,” she said, surprised how easily the lie rolled off her tongue.
“Mrs. Quiggins. Lovely to make your acquaintance. I’ll be sure to tell my wife, Fanny, you are residing here now. She complained the gardens needed a woman’s touch.”
Olivia smiled. “Yes, I was just thinking the same thing myself. Lovely to meet you Dr. Black.”
She climbed into the carriage, rejuvenated. Even though her heart remained broken, and her moral compass guilt ridden, she had never felt so alive. Soon Penny and Will would live at Caymore. Soon Society would hear of another baby and the Caymore title would be his. Soon she would have everything she had ever longed for one way or the other.
Olivia reached Tunbridge Wells by two in the afternoon, and remained hopeful Cath
erine would take the news about Henry without hysteria.
Olivia had her driver raise the knocker on the door – it looked as though the place was deserted, save the candles in the upstairs windows.
The door opened and a small, bird-like woman said, “May I help you?”
“I am Lady Olivia Leighton, Duchess of Caymore here to see my cousin Catherine Gantry. I have heard from her sister Mary, she is very ill.”
The woman looked down at her shoes. “Lady Gantry is in no condition to see anyone.”
Olivia stepped over the threshold. “I did not come all the way from London two days before Christmas for nothing. Inform my cousin I am here and wish to see her immediately.”
The woman told the driver to bring the horses around to the barn, and then she closed the door. She sighed and walked down the hall into a small sitting room.
Olivia followed.
“If you would wait here, Your Grace, I shall enquire if Lady Gantry is available.”
Olivia examined the curios and books that lined the shelves near the fireplace. After what seemed like an hour, the bird-like woman reappeared. “Lady Gantry is indisposed. She is sorry to say she cannot see you, but if you would like to reschedule, perhaps she will feel better within a month.”
“A month!” Olivia said. “I do not think so. Where is she?” Olivia stormed from the room and bellowed up the staircase. “Catherine, I need to speak with you on an urgent matter immediately. If you do not wish to come down, then I will come up.”
From the depths of the old house, came a sharp, “No.”
Olivia charged up the stairs, the old woman trailing helplessly behind. At the top, Olivia turned right, but the woman turned left and raced down the hall.
“Oh, no you do not,” Olivia said and flew after her.
The little woman stood in front of the last door.
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