by Julia Parks
It was then that he saw her, the woman from his afternoon daze. Her blue gown, shimmering in the candlelight, covered a form that was round in all the right places. The curls bobbing up and down were golden, and her eyes—a celestial…
“Hell and blast!” he exclaimed, dropping the quizzing glass as the vision of loveliness took on an identity.
Beside him, a matron in a hideous purple turban gasped in feigned shock at his language.
“What is it?” asked his friend, placing a hand on Sheridan’s shoulder.
“It’s that dashed silly gudgeon from last night!”
“I…I am going to swoon,” whined a high-pitched voice just in front of them. The herd of people kept moving.
“Make some room! Give her some air!” ordered the vision. “Miss Featherstone, take my hand. Oh, my dear girl…I…”
The insensible girl slumped against Lady Olivia.
Her blue eyes pleaded for help. With a growl, Sheridan gathered the unconscious Miss Featherstone into his arms, threw her over his shoulder, and turned.
“Make way! Make way!” he commanded. As if by magic, a pathway opened and he quickly carried the limp figure down the stairs to the hall, not stopping until he had found an empty room—the library, by the look of it. With a grunt, he deposited the girl on the nearest sofa.
“Oh, thank you, Lord Sheridan. It is most kind of you,” said Lady Olivia, who had followed him into the room. She hovered over the girl, wringing her hands.
Sheridan scowled at both of them but didn’t speak.
Richard strolled into the library, granted the prostrate girl an amused glance, and said, “How do you do, my lady? Sir Richard Adair, at your service.”
That dazzling smile turned to his friend.
Sheridan growled and said, “Do you have any smelling salts, my lady?”
“I believe Miss Featherstone carries some with her…in…her reticule.” She looked shocked when Sheridan plucked Miss Featherstone’s reticule from her wrist. “You should not be doing that, my lord. I will…I must protest. It is most improper for a gentleman to open a lady’s reticule.”
Ignoring her, he opened it and fished through the contents until he felt a small vial. Lady Olivia expelled a gasp of irritation and snatched the bottle from his hands. She waved it in the vicinity of Miss Featherstone’s nose. The girl wheezed, lifted her head, and then fell back against the leather couch. The door opened, and a mature lady dressed in wisps of grey floated into the room.
“What in the world are you doing in here, Olivia? I lost you. If a footman had not noticed where you had gone, I… Oh, gentlemen. Good evening. I don’t believe we have had the pleasure. I am Miss Hepplewhite, Lady Olivia’s aunt.”
Richard executed an elegant bow over Miss Hepplewhite’s hand, but Sheridan merely nodded.
“Miss Featherstone swooned as I was passing her on the stairs,” said Lady Olivia. She added flatly, “Lord Sheridan carried her in here.”
“And then I made your, uh…niece, is it?” At the older woman’s nod of confirmation, he continued, “I made your niece angry by going through the silly chit’s reticule for her smelling salts.”
“I don’t doubt it. Olivia, when did you start carrying smelling salts? You never swoon.”
“Of course I do not,” she said, pursing her lips.
“No, it was Miss Featherstone’s reticule I invaded,” he added, a smile tugging at his lips. “And now, Lady Olivia is unreservedly cross with me.”
She met the challenge in his eyes with a flash of spirit, quickly extinguished as he waited. The vapid smile reappeared.
“I am not in the least cross with you, Lord Sheridan. How could I be? You saved the day, and I am certain Miss Featherstone will thank you when she revives sufficiently.”
In the face of this nauseating optimism, he shuttered his eyes and said derisively, “Drivel. I only did what was necessary. Good evening, ladies. Richard, shall we go?”
He didn’t wait for his friend’s reply but strode out the door, down the narrow corridor, and outside. On the pavement, he paced for a moment, ignoring the greetings of the other guests who were getting down from their carriages. With a snort, Sheridan continued down the street, his cane tucked under his arm and his pace decisive.
Tearing off her crown of blue silk roses, Olivia declared, “Of all the men I have met, Lord Sheridan is the most maddening!”
Her aunt sat down on the sofa in their neat drawing room. “I cannot understand why you would say such a thing, Olivia. He was merely demurring at your praise.”
“Demurring, my foot! He was insulting. And the way he looked down his nose at me was insulting, too.”
“I think you are exaggerating, my dear. He was looking down because you were sitting next to Miss Featherstone, and the marquess is, after all, so deliciously tall.”
“Rubbish,” she said, pursing her lips.
“Do sit down, my dear. There is no need to get into such a state. Let me order the tea tray. The staff will be surprised that we are home so early, but I am certain Cook will be able to put something together for us. She spent the entire day baking, you know.”
“You go ahead, Aunt. I could not swallow a morsel.”
Olivia paced the length of the room. When she returned and sat down on the sofa beside her aunt, she smiled. “Forgive me for my display of temper. I really do not know what came over me. I am not usually so cross.”
“No, you are not. Ah, here is Witchell with the tea tray already. You read my mind, Witchell.”
Aunt Amy poured two cups of tea, putting a spoonful of sugar in one and three in the other. She handed the first to Olivia and then took a deep drink of the other.
“Ah, that is good. And let’s see what Cook has for us this evening. Macaroons, my favourite. Oh, and a little strawberry tart for you, my dear?”
Deep in thought, Olivia did not reply. Her aunt put one of the tarts on a plate and placed it on her niece’s lap.
“Oh, thank you, Aunt.” She took a bite and then replaced it on the plate. “Quite good. I must tell Cook she has outdone herself.”
A moment passed in silence. Aunt Amy glanced at the forgotten tart and clucked her tongue.
“Such a waste. And you know the best praise a cook can receive is to have her offerings eaten.”
Olivia then looked at the tart and smiled. Dutifully, she popped the rest of it into her mouth.
“That is much better. Now, perhaps we should discuss this problem you are having with Lord Sheridan—such a handsome man! Oh, his friend, too. And so charming. Sir Richard, I mean. To remain with us until Miss Featherstone regained her senses and then to accompany us home. It was quite gallant of him.”
“Yes, he seems a nice enough gentleman, despite the company he keeps.”
“Dear, dear, you do have a grudge against Lord Sheridan. Whatever has he done to deserve that? It is not like you.”
“No, it is not.”
With a coy grin, her aunt said, “Have you perhaps formed a secret tendre for him?”
“A tendre?” said Olivia, placing her cup on the tray and rising. “I cannot bear the man, he is…”
“But I didn’t even know you had met the man!” exclaimed her aunt. “It is very puzzling. You like everyone, so taking this handsome man in dislike is extraordinary. I mean, he did bump into you at the Pinchot’s ball, but that is hardly a reason to inspire such disgust. Besides, he sent you flowers today along with a lovely note of apology.”
‘The flowers were well enough, but I wager his secretary wrote the note. I cannot imagine that Lord Sheridan would ever admit to being clumsy. He also said he was sorry, and such a kind sentiment is hardly likely to spring forth from one such as he.”
“Olivia! How uncharitable of you to say such a thing.”
/> Olivia nibbled her lower lip like a naughty child. Finally, scuffling her feet, she said, “I am sorry, Aunt. I don’t know why I have taken the man in dislike, but I have. I had even wondered about helping him to find someone, someone who could make him smile. He is always so glum, you know. But now, I can see little sense in it. He would probably bite the hand that fed him.”
“What?”
Olivia frowned and said, “Oh, you know what I mean.” She sighed. “I am going to bed. Perhaps in the morning my usual sunny self will reappear.”
Leaning down, she kissed her aunt’s cheek before strolling out of the room.
In her room, Olivia was silent as her maid helped her change into her nightdress. Bidding the servant a weak goodnight, she climbed into bed.
The fact that her abigail was still ill suddenly hit her, and she started to rise. Then she subsided. She was in no mood to chat with Pansy about her illness.
A moment later, a grey fluff of fur jumped onto the foot of the bed and then sauntered up to the head to be petted.
“Oh, Hawkeye, what am I to do? Why does that man make me want to strangle him?” She scratched under the cat’s chin. “Yes, yes, I know. I should not blame him for running into me outside the millinery shop today. It was more of a mere bumping into than running into, and I’m sure he did not plan to get foxed and then accost me.”
“Meow.”
“Exactly. It is not so much what he does or says, it is the manner in which it is delivered. Really, I don’t expect every male who sees me to fall helplessly in love with me. You might have, but then, you are very easily won over, aren’t you?”
The cat’s purring distracted her, and she scratched him behind his ear. When she stopped, he looked at her with his one eye, blinked, and then hopped off the bed.
Olivia blew out the candle and pulled up the covers. Though it was late April, the evenings were still quite brisk. The small fire on the other side of the room did little to ward off the chill. She shivered and closed her eyes.
Not for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to snuggle close to someone for warmth, for strength. The image of the infuriating Lord Sheridan taunted her. With a twitch of the covers, she turned on her side and forced herself to think of spring flowers, little puppies, and children’s laughter.
She refused to allow such an aggravating man to spoil her rest.
Chapter Three
As Olivia had hoped, morning brought with it an improved mood. She rose and went to the window that overlooked the narrow garden and smiled. How could she be anything but happy on such a sunny day?
Below, the gardener’s boy was throwing the stick for Hasty, who chased it with great speed, despite his lack of one leg. The big mutt returned the stick and dropped it on the ground before licking the boy’s face. As always, Olivia’s heart ached to think of the poor, mistreated animal she had rescued from the gutters in Cheapside.
She turned away and rang for her maid. When the door opened, she frowned and said, “What is it, Jinks? Where is Pansy?”
“She is still in her bed, m’lady. I fear that cough of hers is getting worse. And she’s got a fever, too.”
“I must go to her at once. ” Olivia threw on a wrapper and hurried down the hall and up the back stairs to the servant’s quarters. Her maid was covered up to her chin in several blankets and was still shivering. Olivia sat on the edge of the narrow cot and put her hand on her maid’s burning forehead.
“My goodness, Pansy. You should have sent for me. Jinks, get one of the footmen up here immediately to light a fire. Then tell Witchell to send for the physician.”
“Yes, m’lady.” The other maid hurried away.
Olivia looked at the water on the bedside table and poured a glass for the shivering maid. “Drink this. You must have lots to drink if you are to fight this fever.”
The maid obeyed but then fell back against the pillow and said, “Please go, m’lady I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I am never ill, as you well know. And someone must look after you. Now, close your eyes and sleep.”
Olivia went down to dress. When she returned, she remained by the maid’s side until the doctor arrived. After examining the maid, he motioned to Olivia to join him in the corridor.
“She is very ill, Lady Olivia. It will be touch and go. She seems a healthy girl. If she will do as she is told, I think she will recover. Have someone sit with her the rest of today and tonight—someone who is fit and unlikely to contract the disease.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Pneumonia, I fear, or as near to pneumonia as one can get. I have given her laudanum to help her rest. Give her enough to help her sleep through the day and night. I will come back tomorrow morning and see how she does.”
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Doctor.”
The sober man gave her a rusty smile and said, “When the footman said to come quickly, I feared it might be your formidable aunt.”
“Hardly. She is as healthy as a horse.”
“An admirable woman, your aunt.”
“I shall tell her you said so.”
“No need. She knows what I think of her already. It never made any difference.” With this cryptic remark, he gave a nod and hurried away.
Olivia returned to her maid’s side to watch her sleep. While there, she puzzled over Mr. Jenson’s comment. The physician was from Wiltshire and had grown up near the same village as her mother and aunt. He had known her aunt forever, but his words indicated that there was more to their story than her aunt had ever revealed.
Perhaps the good doctor had been an unsuccessful suitor for her aunt’s hand. Olivia had often wondered about her aunt’s past. There had never been any talk of thwarted love, but there had never been an uncle either. She resolved to ask her aunt about the good doctor at the first opportunity.
Olivia left Pansy only long enough to fetch the novel she was currently reading. There she sat for the rest of the day, quite content to read and serve the servant broth when she awoke briefly. With the evening dose of laudanum, one of the other chambermaids named Missy entered the sickroom. She dropped a quick curtsey to Olivia’s greeting.
“If it pleases you, m’lady, I’m here to sit with our Pansy through the night.” She pointed to the second cot and added, “That’s my cot right there, but I won’t sleep. I’ll keep watch, I promise.”
“I’m sure you will, Missy. I have given her the medicine the doctor left. She seems to be resting quietly now, and I think her fever has come down. You must send to the kitchen for broth if she wakes in the middle of the night.”
“Very good, m’lady.”
“I am going out, but Mr. Witchell will know how to find me, should I be needed.”
“She does look much better, m’lady. I’m sure she will be fine.”
“Let us hope so. I consider all of you indispensable to this household, you know. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, m’lady.”
In the hall, Olivia stretched her weary muscles and trudged downstairs to her own room. There, a footman was just leaving, having brought a tray laden with all sorts of tempting fare.
With layers of wrapper and shifts streaming behind her, Olivia’s aunt sailed into the room, inspected the tray, and said, “Sit down at once, my dear. You must be exhausted and famished. How is Pansy?”
Olivia shook her head, but she sat down at the table and filled a plate. “Better, I think, but only time will tell. By the way, did you see Mr. Jenson today?”
“No, why should I see that man? I am not ill, and if I were, I would not send for him.”
“Really? I thought the two of you were friends.”
“At one time, perhaps, but no more.”
“Then I am surprised to hear you speak of him with such veh
emence. I mean, if he means nothing to you, why should you…”
“Ah, I see what you are about, sly puss. You mean to insinuate that there was some episode that caused us to have a rift. Not at all. I barely remember the man. As for knowing him as a boy, he was nothing but a grubby, little thing. I used to follow him and my brother everywhere, but that was when I was only a child. No, there is nothing that happened between us.”
“If you say so,” replied Olivia, hiding her sceptical smile behind a serviette.
“And so I do. You know how I feel about doctors. For the most part, they do more harm than good, and Mr. Jenson is no exception. Except, perhaps, that he has the most atrocious manners.”
“Very well then. We will not speak of him again. Won’t you join me?”
“No, I have already eaten a little something. Why don’t we stay at home tonight, my dear? You must be exhausted.”
“I am tired, but I cannot miss the Grants’ ball. According to Lady Grant, that old miser Pendleton is supposed to attend. I have been trying for months to have a word with him over that new school I want to build in Richmond. He so rarely attends anything since his young wife died two years ago.”
“Such a shame. Both her and the babe. Who would have thought she would go before him?”
“Yes, a tragedy, but he might as well find some charities to give some of that money to as he doesn’t have a direct heir, and I want that school to be one of them.”
“But he won’t part with a single groat while he is alive.”
“I think I will be able to persuade him.”
“If anyone can, it is you, my dear. Very well, then eat up. I will have Jinks come in to help you dress when she is done with me.” At the door, her aunt said, “I am glad to see that your mood has improved.”
Olivia grinned. “Was there ever any doubt?”