Pearl was very good at keeping her own counsel. Nor would she be deterred when she had questions. “No, not that kind of kiss.” How could she put it? She settled herself cross-legged on the bed, dislodging the sleepy kitty, which growled and then went right back to sleep. The other kitten was playing with a ribbon on her gown.
“You know how when you’re reading one of those novels like that mystery one? And it’s so good and so enthralling, and you can’t believe the things that are happening in it. And you’re rushing so fast to read it, only you don’t want it to ever end, since then it will be over.”
“Ooohhh,” Pearl replied in a soft exhale. “That sounds wonderful.”
“It was.” Olivia lowered her face to stick her nose into Snapper’s fur. As much for the kitten’s cuteness as so Pearl couldn’t see her expression right then. Because she was fairly certain it would reveal a certain amount of regret, and her fascinated wish to do it again, and confusion about just how she felt now about everything.
And Pearl would see it all and would no doubt have something to say about it. For a relatively quiet person, Pearl could definitely talk a lot.
“So does that mean he is courting you? Are you the respectable lady who will marry him and make him respectable too?”
The thought should have occurred to her before, what with the kissing and all, but it simply hadn’t. She straightened like a shot, a few cat hairs wafting about in the air in front of her nose, and stared at Pearl.
“No, of course not.”
“Because you still think you’re going to marry Lord Carson?” Pearl asked in a gentle tone. The one she used right before she gave Olivia some hard truths.
Olivia thought she knew the truths already, so perhaps they could skip that part.
“I don’t think that any longer.” Now it was Pearl’s turn to look surprised.
It felt as though Olivia’s world was shifting, again. She’d thought for so long that she would marry Bennett—Lord Carson—that admitting it wasn’t true felt as revelatory as when she had realized there was more to life than parties and gowns.
She licked her lips, which had become dry. “I think if I am so easily able to kiss somebody like Mr. Wolcott without thinking of Lord Carson, then it is probably true that I am not, actually, in love with Lord Carson after all.” Dear lord. I am not in love with Bennett. I might never have been in love with Bennett.
Who am I? Who will I be?
The thoughts came fast, making her feel as though she were spinning in a circle, her brain going faster and faster until she couldn’t think anymore.
Pearl’s eyes widened as Olivia spoke, and then she smiled, a warm smile that felt lit up from the inside. “Oh, thank goodness. I was worried I was going to have to toss you over a horse and gallop away from the church with you. You can’t marry him—that’s clear enough.”
Olivia couldn’t help the pique in her tone. “Clear enough? Why is it clear enough? Because he is handsome and intelligent and wants to do the right things and is of our world and was supposed to marry Eleanor until his brother stole her?”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “Look, you and I agreeing on this very important matter—the matter of your future life—does not mean you should be defensive about it. It does happen, our agreeing sometimes.” She gestured to the kittens in Olivia’s lap. “We agreed these little ones should be saved from the Robinsons’ gardener, although we still don’t know what we’re going to do with them. They should be running around free somewhere, not stuck in our rooms in London.”
Olivia grinned at the thought that popped into her head, making Pearl look at her suspiciously.
“I have an idea,” she said.
Chapter 14
Offer gifts chosen for the recipient, not for the giver.
Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Being Reckless
Olivia approached the front door not with anxiety—she was never anxious; she always knew just what she was doing and why. No cause for concern, ever.
But she had to admit to feeling a little off. Whether it was that she’d realized she didn’t actually love the love of her life, or that the last time she’d seen Mr. Wolcott was supposed to have been the last time she’d see him.
And that same last time was also the last time she’d kissed him, and then he’d kissed her, and everything was a muddle, and she didn’t know what to think anymore, so it was not surprising she felt a little off. Which was a vast understatement of how confused and lost she felt.
Besides which, she had two wriggling kittens tucked into her jacket, and even her ability to withstand discomfort in the service of doing good was having trouble against all those tiny kitten claws.
And since she had snuck out without even Pearl in attendance, she wasn’t certain how to knock on the door. Not without dislodging the kittens.
She was very grateful she hadn’t had to drive herself, at least.
She raised her arm and rammed her elbow into the wooden door, grimacing at the shooting pain that went all the way up into her shoulder.
But she did hear steps approaching so, as she frequently told Pearl, the pain was worth the effort.
The door swung wide to reveal a butler whose expression of surprise was quickly replaced with the bland assurance Olivia associated with most butlers.
“I am Lady Olivia, here to see Mr. Wolcott. They haven’t gone yet, have they?” she asked, trying to peer around the butler’s substantial form in the doorway.
“I will inquire,” he replied, his sharp gaze likely taking in that she was alone and therefore perhaps not entirely respectable.
Her parents’ phaeton was at the bottom of the steps, but the butler likely couldn’t trust it belonged to her. She appreciated how strict he was to his duty, but she did wish he’d asked her in so she could sit down and remove Scamp and Mr. Whiskers from her jacket.
The door snapped back open again in minutes, only now it was Edward opening it. He glanced around, a protectively angry look on his face, and yanked her inside, slamming the door behind them.
The kittens did not like the sudden noise and movement, so Olivia let out a shriek that was far louder than she would have liked.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his expression now concerned.
“No, it’s—do you have a place we can talk in private?” Because the butler was still in the hallway, and there was a footman or two standing around as though waiting for something. If they weren’t careful, they’d each get a kitten, and she didn’t think that was the type of task they had been hired for.
“Yes, in here,” he said, taking her arm more gently now and guiding her to the same room she’d been in the time she’d visited before. When she’d made that list and he’d talked about how it hurt. Even though he hadn’t directly talked about how it hurt, Society’s condemnation of him, but she could understand what he was truly saying.
It was her empathy that got her into these situations, after all.
“Tea, please,” he said to the butler, closing the door just enough to ensure nobody could hear, but leaving it wide enough so that no impropriety could take place.
Unfortunately.
“Would you care to sit down?” he asked, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.
She shook her head no, then sat down in the sofa right underneath the window. Sitting down carefully, so as not to startle her traveling companions.
“I thought last night—I thought we weren’t going to see one another again.” He spoke in an exceedingly polite tone, enunciating clearly, which made Olivia want to smile even as she wanted to cry about it all.
“Well, yes, but then I recalled that you hadn’t yet given me the thousand pounds you promised. And I thought of something I could give to you that would perhaps make the country even more enjoyable.” And with that she slipped her hand inside her jacket and withdrew Mr. Whiskers, with Scamp following quickly behind.
They wasted no time in vaulting off her lap to go sniff the legs of the s
ofa.
He was frozen in place, his eyes pinned to the kittens.
“You brought me . . . cats?” he said in disbelief.
“Not cats, silly.” Did he know nothing? “They are kittens, and Pearl and I rescued them from our neighbor. There are two more, but I didn’t think you would want all four.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “I don’t want any of them, Olivia.” He sounded outraged, and she had a twinge of doubt. Was it possible he wouldn’t want them? But he didn’t know them. He just had to give them a chance.
“Oh, you do,” she contradicted in a knowing tone of voice. “Kittens are delightful creatures, they don’t need much care. Just some food and a place to, you know.”
“You brought me kittens.” It sounded as though he was having difficulty processing her generosity.
“I did.” Olivia removed her hat, placing it on the sofa beside her. “They can’t stay in our house—my mother will have a fit if she discovers them.” That her mother hadn’t yet figured out that there were additional residents in the town house was testament to just how self-absorbed the duchess was. Olivia thought she might safely house a marching band prone to practicing at all hours without her mother noticing, but she didn’t want to share that detail with Edward.
Not that that was the only reason. “I know we might not see one another again, and I wanted you to have them as a way to remember me.”
“It’s unlikely I will forget you.” His tone was both amused and wry, and she wondered how he would recall her, later on, when the kittens had grown up and he had—well, she couldn’t think about that.
Olivia heard a noise in the hallway, and quickly scooped up the kittens, holding them up against her chest.
“Tea, sir,” the butler said as he walked in with one of the footmen who was bearing a large silver tray. The butler directed the footman where to place it, and Olivia could have sworn she saw the man’s eyebrow raise just barely as he took in the sight of two wriggling kittens in Olivia’s arms.
He seemed to be a very good butler.
“Is there anything else?” he asked, this time his gaze flickering more obviously toward Olivia and what she held.
“I suppose a saucer of milk would be useful.” Edward spoke in a grumpy tone, but at least he was already providing the kittens with sustenance.
“Excellent, sir,” the butler said, nodding to the footman.
The two servants walked out as Edward resumed his staring at Olivia. And not the “you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen” kind of staring. More the “what insanity have you brought into my life, you crazy creature” kind of way.
“I can accept your draft for the thousand pounds because I’m supposing that you don’t just have it lying around, even though I do know you are fabulously wealthy.”
Olivia returned the kittens to the floor, then leaned forward to the tea things. Like everything she’d seen thus far in the house, the set was perfect, clearly very expensive, and lacking any kind of individuality. “Did you or your father choose the furnishings? Likely not, since I wouldn’t think you would have enough time to do so, plus it is generally considered a lady’s domain, and you don’t have a lady in residence.” She picked up one of the teacups, marveling at the thinness of the bone china, the delicate flowers painted on the side.
She set the teacup down on its saucer and poured tea. “Milk? Sugar?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Nothing.” He bent over to pick the teacup up and went and sat in one of the chairs opposite her sofa, keeping his gaze on the floor so he wouldn’t step on the kittens, she supposed.
She made her own tea, and then leaned back against the sofa. Most ladies wouldn’t dare allow their bodies to relax against a sofa back, but she was already behaving shockingly—visiting the illegitimate son of a wealthy merchant without a chaperone—so she thought that being comfortable was the least of her infractions.
“Why would you even think I’d want kittens?”
She rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her cup. “You’re still worried about the kittens? I promise, they are lovely little creatures. You’ll fall in love in no time. Mr. Whiskers, he is the one with the long whiskers—obviously—he is the most adventurous of the four, so I thought he would suit you the best. Since you are also prone to adventure. Scamp, she is the snuggliest. She just wants pets and I thought that would suit you as well, since I know you have a generous heart.”
“A generous heart?” He raised an eyebrow, an amused look on his face. At least he wasn’t continuing to ask her about the kittens.
Because honestly, she wasn’t sure why she had thought they would be the perfect things to give him. Just that she’d known, with some bone-deep certainty, that he would love having them, and they would love being had by him.
She was not speaking about herself, of course. Never that.
And besides, when and if they were to cross one another’s path again, she could ask him how they were doing, and then they wouldn’t have to spend time on other topics, such as Why did you kiss me? and Why don’t you consider being my bride?
Oh. Well. She hadn’t really thought about that last point. It would be ridiculous, anyway. He tolerated kissing her, but it was clear he found her overbearing, managing, and too opinionated.
He wasn’t wrong, but those were the things Olivia liked about herself. She liked knowing just what she should do, and doing it. That others didn’t immediately fall in with her plans showed their lack of comprehension of just what was at stake.
“I am not generous because I am about to give you a thousand pounds,” he continued, leaning forward to place his teacup on the table between them. He’d drunk it all already.
“Sir?”
It was the butler again, this time holding a small bowl presumably filled with milk. Even the china deemed suitable for a cat was delicate and clearly expensive.
“Just on the floor next to the sofa.”
The butler nodded, placing the bowl down with as much butlerly aplomb as he could. Olivia had to admit she admired his sangfroid.
“Nothing else, thank you,” Edward said. The butler nodded and left the room while the kittens ran over to investigate the bowl, starting to slurp the milk, making Olivia giggle.
“Look, aren’t they adorable? Come over here, Edward, and see.” She froze as she realized she’d just used his given name—how had that happened? It wasn’t as though they were more than acquaintances, if you forgot about the two times they’d kissed.
Oh, if you just forget about those times, you barely know one another. It was Pearl’s voice in her head, of course. Being sarcastic, because of course they were more than acquaintances.
That’s right—you are friends, Pearl said.
“Hush,” she muttered.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, I—” And she turned to look at him, now seated beside her on the sofa. His curls all unruly and riotous, one corner of his mouth pulled up as though he found something amusing but didn’t want to admit to smiling.
“Edward! Edward, are you here?”
Olivia spun around to look at the door while Edward rose to call out into the hallway. “In here, Father,” he said.
He glanced back at her, an aggrieved expression on his face. “And now you’re going to have to explain why you’re here, and he’s going to think something else entirely. Honestly, Olivia, do you ever consider your actions?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say of course she did, that she considered things far more than most people, but then Mr. Beechcroft had stepped into the room, accompanied by Ida.
“What are you doing here?” Ida asked, not sounding at all pleased to find her older sister at the house.
“I could ask the same of you,” Olivia retorted, only to realize how foolish that was—Ida was here, of course, because she wanted to be. Ida never did anything she didn’t want to, so if she was here, it was because it suited her in some way.
Olivia sha
red her sister’s single-mindedness, but Olivia’s own focus was not on books or philosophical conversation, but on what could, and should, be done.
Because if she didn’t, she didn’t trust that anybody else would.
Just thinking about what might happen to the poor and orphaned children if Olivia weren’t there to help them—well, it was enough to bring the sting of tears to her eyes. Not that she ever cried. But her eyes definitely stung.
“Mr. Beechcroft has asked me to help catalogue the library. The owners of the house have quite an impressive collection. Not that they likely know much about it,” Ida sniffed, since of course nobody could possibly be as well-informed as she was.
“I’ll be visiting the library after Mr. Beechcroft and Mr. Wolcott depart for the country. That way, when they return, the catalogue will be finished. I believe there are some unearthed gems hiding there.” She sounded excited, which startled Olivia. Her sister was so seldom enthusiastic about anything.
When they return. But from what Edward had intimated, they wouldn’t be returning. At least—Mr. Beechcroft wouldn’t.
She couldn’t keep herself from glancing at Edward, wishing there were some way she could ease his heartache. But that would require more than just arriving to do some good; this was literally about life and death, and the love a son had for his father.
That moved her as profoundly as seeing any type of injustice in the world. She’d never seen that kind of love before—after all, her father communicated in grunts and growls, and her mother didn’t communicate as much as unleash a steady stream of commentary. It humbled her.
Which was remarkable since, as Pearl was fond of saying, Olivia was never humbled. But now? Having realized that Lord Carson was not for her, that she would miss seeing Edward, miss being in his presence, and miss seeing Mr. Beechcroft’s clear pride in his son?
She was humbled.
“Ida, since you’re here, would you want to accompany me home?”
Ida looked surprised, likely because Olivia seldom asked for Ida’s participation in anything. But Olivia should try harder with her sister. She should try harder to understand people who weren’t her. She should try harder to figure out what it was she truly wanted also.
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