I’m not sure what Coventry’s bachelor town home is like, but Lansdowne has opened ours, and we have plenty of room. You must stay with us. It will be as if we were school girls together once more.
Be aware I will not take no for an answer. I will expect you within two weeks. Please, Olivia, it will be so much fun.
I am looking forward to a long chat.
Yours Forever in Friendship,
Elizabeth
…
Olivia reached out to grasp the driver’s hand. It was hard not to stare open-mouthed as she stepped out of the carriage. In so many ways she felt like a young girl again, with no knowledge of the world. Maybe her father had been right and she should have experienced a London Season.
The Lansdowne town house in Belgravia was exquisite. Two columns framed a white painted stucco faÇade with an entryway to the main front door—a stark black—with an unusual lion’s head knocker. The whole image was one of elegance and sophistication.
A butler opened the door before Olivia had even arrived at the first step. He bowed to her as she entered.
“Lady Coventry, I presume?” He reached for her pelisse.
“Yes. Thank you,” she murmured distractedly. Her eyes were busy taking in the entrance hall, an elegant area twice the size of the bedroom she and Elizabeth had shared at school.
“Olivia!” Elizabeth squealed as she ran down the stairs, her hand fisted in her dress, revealing delicate house shoes and white stockings.
“Elizabeth,” Olivia sighed, her eyes filling. Seeing her dearest friend released something she hadn’t realized she’d held in. Elizabeth represented warmth, love, and security. She embodied a young woman’s dreams and fantasies, a naïve hope for a fairy-tale ending.
The women hugged and shed tears as the butler looked over their heads. Soon he cleared his throat. “My lady, perhaps you would like to retire to the morning room where tea has been set up.”
“Oh yes, Staunton, thank you.” Elizabeth wiped tears from her eyes.
Arms around each other’s waists, Olivia and Elizabeth proceeded to the morning room and settled side by side on a comfortable settee.
Olivia regarded her hostess. In the few years since her wedding, Elizabeth had grown into a lovely marchioness. No longer a schoolgirl, she wore the mantle of grace and refinement required of her position, from the top of her golden blond head to her tiny feet. Now Elizabeth’s blue eyes searched her face with concern. “I cannot tell you how good it is to see you.” She held the delicate yellow flowered teapot and poured them both steaming cups of tea.
Olivia accepted the cup and savored the hot bracing liquid. “And I cannot tell you how happy I am to have come.”
Elizabeth chattered on about London, the Season, her visits to the modiste, and the events planned for the coming week. Olivia used the opportunity to collect herself. As happy as she was to be here with her dearest friend, she knew the time would come when Elizabeth would want to know the full story, and she had no intention of holding anything back. She desperately needed someone to talk to and get advice from.
“So,” Elizabeth said brightly, taking her friend’s hand. “Tell me how you came to be married to the Earl of Coventry.”
Olivia opened her mouth to speak and burst into tears.
“Oh, dear,” Elizabeth said. Getting up, she closed the door to the morning room and came back to sit next to Olivia, who was taking in deep gulps of air in an attempt to control her sobs. Elizabeth patted her hand, giving her time to compose herself.
“You must think me a complete ninny.” Olivia wiped her nose on the white laced handkerchief she retrieved from her pocket.
“I don’t know what to think, dear. You’re quite pale, and seem to have lost a few pounds.” She sighed. “I’m afraid you are about to tell me an unhappy story.”
“Yes, I’m afraid my tale is somewhat unpleasant.” Taking a deep breath, Olivia related the account of her arranged marriage, the wedding itself, and how things had progressed from there—or not progressed. When she finished her story, a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. In fact, she had the strangest urge to dance around the room and throw her head back with laughter in a most unladylike manner.
“Well. A truly dreadful story.” Elizabeth eyed her with sympathy. “But right now I think you should have a nice hot bath, and rest before dinner. My husband will be joining us tonight, and I cannot wait for Grif to see you again.” She rose and rang the bell next to the door.
“Rose, please see Lady Coventry settled. Mrs. Deacon has readied the blue room.” Elizabeth took Olivia’s arm and walked with her to the bottom of the stairs.
“Lady Coventry will also require a bath.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Elizabeth led Olivia up the stairs. “Dinner is at seven o’clock tonight. Grif and I are having a night at home. It will be good for you to rest up. We will be busy tomorrow.” She smiled warmly.
“Busy?” Olivia said, her eyebrows raised.
“We will discuss it at dinner, dear. Now go have your bath and rest. I will see you later.”
The room Olivia had been assigned was beautifully decorated in pale blues and the same deep violet of her eyes. Even though it was early April, a lively fire blazed in the hearth, taking the damp chill from the air. Rose bustled around the room, hanging up Olivia’s dresses and gowns while a stream of maids carried in buckets of hot water for the tub set up in front of the fireplace.
The soothing bath felt wonderful after the long trip. Her sore muscles relaxed and she felt better than she had in a long, long time. Rose helped her wash her hair, then combed it out in front of the fire. After it was sufficiently dry, Olivia climbed into the soft bed and fell sound asleep.
“Time to get ready for dinner, my lady.”
Olivia opened her eyes to see Rose carrying one of her gowns. She laid it carefully on the bottom of the bed, running her hand over the smooth peach muslin.
“I pressed your gown for you, so it will be all ready for dinner. Once we get you into this, I’ll have a go at your hair. I’ve been doing her ladyship’s styles for a while now and she is pleased.”
“Thank you, that will be fine, Rose.”
The nap having fully restored her, Olivia felt an enthusiasm she had missed for weeks. She was finally here in London and staying with her closest friend. This visit was the antidote she needed for the tediousness her life had become. She had no idea how she would go on from here, but at least optimism was now part of the resolution.
Elizabeth−Olivia still didn’t think of her friend as Lady Lansdowne−and Lord Lansdowne waited for her as she entered the drawing room. A lovely place, with rose and green striped wallpaper, and a light green carpet. Her gaze immediately settled on a large painting of who had to be Elizabeth’s pride and joy, Evan. The portrait hung over the hearth in a place of honor. The furnishings in a rich chintz and damask had obviously been selected for comfort as well as style. Elizabeth had certainly put her mark on the room.
“My, you look much better,” Elizabeth said as she joined her at the door, putting her arm around Olivia’s waist and urging her into the room.
“Thank you. I feel much better as well.”
A cheerful looking man, red-cheeked and slightly rotund, and only several inches taller than Olivia, turned from the table where he poured drinks. Lord Lansdowne approached his wife and handed her a small glass of sherry.
Addressing her husband, Elizabeth said, “Grif, I’m sure you remember by dearest friend, Lady Coventry. She attended our wedding.”
He bowed slightly and kissed her outstretched hand. “A pleasure to renew our acquaintance, my lady. Elizabeth has entertained me for quite some time with tales of your escapades at school.”
Lord Lansdowne regarded his wife with unmistakable adoration. A brief twinge of envy flooded Olivia, soon followed by guilt. Elizabeth certainly deserved such love; she just wished such esteem could be hers as well.
One brow arched as Lord Lansdowne
studied her intently. “Coventry, you say?”
“Yes, my lord.” Olivia lowered her eyes as she curtsied.
“You must explain this to me, my lady. I have spent quite a bit of time with Coventry of late, and he neglected to mention a beautiful wife.”
Elizabeth placed her hand on Lord Lansdowne’s sleeve. “For the time being, Grif, let’s not delve too closely into Coventry. Olivia is here for rest and a bit of entertainment. We’ll keep the remainder of the story our little secret for now.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
“My lady,” he directed to Olivia, “may I pour you a glass of sherry?”
“No thank you, my lord.”
Elizabeth clapped her hands. “Oh, we must stop this ‘my lord,’ ‘my lady’ business. It will be ‘Olivia’ and ‘Grif,’ if you please.”
Grif inclined his head. “As always, I bow to your wishes, my dear. I am honored to escort two lovely ladies in to dinner.”
Smiling, Olivia and Elizabeth each placed a hand on one of his sleeves and the group strolled toward the dining room.
Olivia had a wonderful time. They dined on roast pheasant, broiled salmon, with a flavorsome herbal sauce, small potatoes in butter, and pears poached in a sweet sauce. Several footmen poured wine and saw to their every need. Grif proved to be an attentive and amusing host. He skillfully skirted any reference to Coventry and kept them laughing with stories about gentlemen of the ton, but only those accounts fit for ladies’ ears.
“Dearest, we must be out early to Bond Street tomorrow for shopping.” Elizabeth and Olivia sat in the drawing room while Grif had retired to the library to enjoy his port.
“Shopping?” Olivia’s eyes shifted to her friend.
“Yes, you will need an entire new wardrobe for the Season. I know a fabulous modiste, who will love to dress you.”
Olivia frowned. “I had intended to have several gowns made up before I left Italy, but with Father’s passing and dealing with all of that, I never found the time. But, I’m afraid I haven’t any money to spend on clothing until my father’s finances are settled.”
“I beg to differ, dear friend. You are Lady Coventry with all the resources of his lordship.”
“I am also a very unknown and neglected Lady Coventry,” Olivia said wryly.
“No matter.” Elizabeth waved her hand in the air. “We will furnish you with a complete wardrobe and have the bills referred to your husband.” She viewed Olivia’s startled expression with a smirk.
Purchase an entire wardrobe and have the bills directed to Coventry?
How lovely that sounded. All her clothes were seriously outdated since their social life in Rome had been non-existent with her father’s propensity for isolation. “Am I permitted to do that?” She whispered, fearing the servants overhearing.
“Absolutely.” Elizabeth hopped up from the settee, her eyes sparkling with humor. “We will set off early, after breakfast. We have much to do.” She reached down and pulled Olivia to her feet and took her arm. They slowly strolled up the stairs, Elizabeth once again outlining all the lovely things they would purchase and how thrilled the modiste would be to dress Olivia with her stunning coloring and figure.
After dismissing Rose, who had helped her out of her gown and into her night rail, Olivia burrowed into the warm bed, thinking of all the new gowns and accessories she would need as Lady Coventry. Even more delightful was the picture she envisioned of his lordship’s face when he received the bills. Grinning, she fluffed up her pillow and settled in for a good night’s sleep.
For the first time in weeks Olivia felt the darkness recede. Being with Elizabeth had done wonders for her already. Now, armed with the title of Lady Coventry, she would visit the best shops and outfit herself as she saw fit. Resorting to something she hadn’t done in years, Lady Coventry giggled, the sound carrying in the night air.
Chapter Five
“My lady, you look absolutely divine.” Mademoiselle DuBois, a well-known London modiste, gushed as she eyed Olivia. The gown she’d helped her customer into boasted a deep blue velvet underskirt, covered with a paler blue silk overskirt, edged in lace and draped to the side, held with a tiny clip. The low cut bodice clung to her generous breasts and small cap sleeves edged in a thin cream-colored satin band covered only the very top of her arms.
“With the right hairstyle and jewels you will be stunning. Madam has a most beautiful coloring and form.” The modiste shook the back of the gown, expanding the slight train.
Olivia viewed herself in the mirror. Her reflection presented the finest gown she’d ever seen. The dark blue color brought out the depth of violet in her eyes. The flush of excitement brought a pink tint to her cheeks.
Mademoiselle DuBois walked around her, tapping her slim finger against her lips. “Only a few alterations need to be made, my lady. The woman who ordered this lovely gown stood only an inch or two taller than you. Since she has notified me she no longer wants the gown, it is yours. If you will give me a bit of time to pin the hem, I will deliver it to Lady Lansdowne’s home tonight in plenty of time for your party.”
“That’s wonderful, Madame,” said Elizabeth. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am you had something already made up that suits Lady Coventry so well.” She waved her hand. “Now quickly remove the gown. We must hurry to purchase everything else.”
“Everything else?” Olivia’s voice rose in surprise.
“Yes, of course. Gloves, undergarments, fans, hair ornaments.” Elizabeth grinned and laced her fingers together like a young debutante.
Olivia had decided to thoroughly enjoy her day of shopping. Her lack of a social life and the isolation imposed by her father’s preferences hadn’t allowed for many reasons to indulge in buying gowns, dance slippers, and the other fripperies Elizabeth insisted she must have.
“My lady, when would you like to continue with fabric and pattern selections for your other gowns?” The modiste interrupted Olivia’s thoughts as she slipped the garment over her head.
Olivia tilted her head, eyebrows raised in Elizabeth’s direction.
“I think tomorrow morning. Lady Coventry needs a complete wardrobe, but we only have time today for one outfit for this evening’s ball. Shall we say ten o’clock?”
“We will await your arrival.” The modiste inclined her head.
“This is so exciting.” Elizabeth hugged Olivia close as they headed toward the shops along Bond Street that would supply Olivia with the rest of her ensemble.
They spent time in Wood’s, selecting dance slippers, with a promise to return on the morrow to order more footwear made.
Elizabeth insisted they make a trip to Harding Howell & Co. for several parasols, and then finally a visit to John Arpthorp, Stay & Corset Maker, to replace the worn corset Olivia owned.
The weary pair returned to Lansdowne Townhouse to bathe and rest before the evening’s entertainment. The Wilson-Henson Ball—the first time Olivia would come face-to-face with her husband. Elizabeth assured her Jason would indeed attend since Grif relayed that information to her after speaking with Jason earlier that day at White’s. Meeting with Lord Arrogant once more released butterflies in Olivia’s stomach. With excitement or nerves?
…
After inching along the lengthy queue stretching more than a mile from the Wilson-Henson residence, the Lansdowne carriage reached the footman waiting to assist the occupants. After alighting, Olivia turned to observe the line of elegant Landaus and Barouches as they continued to snake their way up to the entrance. After discharging the passengers, footmen directed the drivers to an area where the carriages would remain until the owners reclaimed them for the trip home.
The Marquess offered his arm to his wife, then extended his other arm to Olivia. With one woman on either side, they made their way to the door. Not wishing to alert Jason to her presence until she had the opportunity to speak with him privately, Olivia gave her name to the servant who announced the arrivals as Lady Olivia Grant.
; The ballroom glowed with flickering candlelight and the reflection of hundreds of precious stones and diamonds from ladies’ necks, arms and wrists. Probably three hundred people crowded the room, gentlemen in their elaborate waistcoats and expertly tied cravats.
Olivia scanned the ballroom, looking for the tall handsome Earl who had married her, and then had left, all in less than twenty-four hours. Her heart beat rapidly each time her gaze landed on the back of a well-built dark haired gentleman.
Having missed a Season of her own, Olivia found herself mesmerized by the ton. She had never seen so many well-dressed, adorned people in her life. Ladies displayed elaborate hairdos with jewels and pearls wound throughout. The snowy white intricately tied cravats of the men sported glittering gems and diamond stickpins. She felt somewhat underdressed with the simple strand of pearls and small pearl earbobs from her mother’s jewelry collection.
“I will leave you lovely ladies to elicit envy amongst all the other women. I shall be in the card room, and will return to claim the supper dance, my love.” Grif kissed Elizabeth’s hand. “And a dance for you as well, my lady.” He nodded to Olivia, then left.
“Your cheeks are flushed.” Olivia smiled at Elizabeth.
“I know, isn’t it silly? But the man can still turn my insides to mush. And you know it’s not quite proper for a husband to claim the supper waltz with his wife. But Grif has never cared for the conventions.”
They meandered around the room. Olivia’s nerves wound tight as she studied each face, trying not to appear obvious, but always searching for the piercing blue eyes that had seized hers for a brief time at her wedding. Several gentlemen made their way to her and Elizabeth, seeking an introduction. Elizabeth fumbled a bit at first, and then repeated Olivia’s statement at the door, claiming her dearest friend from school, visiting for the Season, to be Lady Olivia Grant.
Callie Hutton Page 4