by Julia Donner
Jealousy’s visceral clench answered that question. She settled back on the squabs of Harry’s lavishly appointed town coach and mulled over her lack of options.
Murky blobs of light from streetlamps passed by the coach windows. She soothed jangled nerves with a snuggle against the sensual embrace of ermine and discovered her left hand protectively covering the slight mound on her abdomen. A smile quivered on her lips. Her chin trembled. If nothing else came out of all that had gone before, and what was to come, she would have this, a babe of her own.
Ah, well. Out-countenancing scorn wasn’t an unfamiliar arena. Society could go to blazes for all she cared, but she did hope to find acceptance with Harry’s family and friends. She refused to become the cause of an estrangement.
When she arrived in Cavendish Square, double doors were swept open to reveal a minor crowd milling in the mansion’s foyer. Head and shoulders above everyone stood the Earl of Ravenswold. His tall, gorgeous wife held his arm, while studying Olivia’s arrival with the unblinking, topaz gaze of a stalking feline. A vision of Lady Ravenswold fencing with Harry bloomed, the woman’s fearlessness and physical prowess. Perhaps their shared love of horses could be the start of a friendship, or at the very least, an understanding.
By Lady Ravenswold’s side, at the same height, stood a gentleman dressed in somber black, which emphasized the hard blue of a gaze that swept over her with swift calculation. A wild mane of black waves fell to his shoulders, lending a romantic dash to the harsh countenance of the Honorable Frederick Bates. She’d seen him at a distance, from above on the pavilion’s mezzanine. This close, he evoked Caro Lamb’s much-touted remark about Byron—mad, bad and dangerous.
Olivia’s courage returned when she saw the glimmer of encouragement in Lord Asterly’s eyes. He tipped his head in a slight bow, then said something to Harry, who whirled and greeted her with a grin of delight.
She couldn’t stop herself from blinking at the sight of the ton’s most outrageous and famous arbiter. He wore yellow satin, the garishness of the skin-tight coat subdued by a cream-and-gold vest. Snug inexpressibles and stockings were of matching cream. Gold medallions embellished black pumps and his stockings had flecks of golden fleur-des-lis designs to match the gilt swirls in the vest. His shirt points weren’t so starched and high that he couldn’t move his head. Still, his grandeur and audacity took her breath away and left her gaping. Then his presence did, when he strode up to her and planted a kiss on her open mouth.
He captured her hand and tugged her across the foyer. “You look positively delicious. Come meet everyone, my love, especially my dearest Lizzie.”
Dearest Lizzie was not what Olivia expected. Serene intelligence glowed in large, hazel eyes that gave away nothing as to her thoughts. Instead of a curtsey, Lady Asterly offered her hand. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Mrs. St. Clair, and very sorry not to have been at home when you called. Please, do not allow us to overwhelm you. May I introduce everyone? Some you may have already met.”
Olivia nodded to Lady Ravenswold and acknowledged Lord Ravenswold’s bow. She experienced a wave of discomfort at his size, followed by renewed admiration of his wife. She’d heard that the countess had complete power over her besotted husband but had never seen them together to verify the gossip. Seeing how they stood, staying connected by touch, Olivia sensed the opposite. It may be said that the earl followed her around like a puppy, but Olivia’s impression was that the earl acted more like a territorial bulldog and his wife more than happy to respond to his bark.
Harry’s guiding touch on her back directed her left, when Lady Asterly said, “May I present Mr. Alfred Bates?”
After Bates tipped his head in a bow, and Olivia greeted him with a slight curtsy, he said with a calculating smirk, “A distinct pleasure to meet the only female to bring our Harry to heel. Brava, Mrs. St. Clair.”
Bates looked as fierce as a pirate, but sounded as suave and disinterested as a prince. She’d seen him from a distance, when he fenced with Harry, but standing only a few feet away, the impact of his personality felt vaguely disturbing. Intelligence gleamed in sapphire eyes as sharp as broken glass. He wasn’t as tall as Harry, nor as sturdily built as Asterly, and yet an inert power crackled in the air around him, as if he had to take care to keep the violence within carefully leashed.
The comfort of Harry’s palm moved on her back, lending her courage. Bates’s comment was meant as a challenge to draw her out. He sought to weigh her grit, a test to see if she could stand on her own in this coterie of vibrant personalities.
Olivia forced the corners of her mouth to lift into a slight smile. “The excellence of your reputation with pistols precedes you, Mr. Bates. Even so, I must disagree.”
His eyes glittered at the objection. He tilted his head in acceptance. “How so, ma’am?”
“Sir, the hounds that I have had the pleasure to own were never expected to stay on my heels. The best coursers must be allowed to run free. or they will possess no reason to return to their trainer with trust and devotion.”
His wide mouth curved into a smile as Bates took her hand and bowed over it. “Again, I say, brava!” When he rose up and released her hand, he turned to Lady Asterly. “Now that Mrs. St. Clair has so adroitly put me in my place with a proper set-down, I must ask when my partner for the evening will be coming down to join us. I desire the company of less ferocious females.”
“Patience, Freddy,” Lady Asterly murmured. “She tends to prefer her privacy but has promised to even the numbers at table. Ah, there she is.”
Chapter 19
Olivia glanced up at the woman descending the staircase and her breath caught. Happy tears stung her eyes. She whispered, “Evie?”
Her dearest friend’s expression changed from downcast worry to sudden elation. She lifted the hem of a staid, grey gown and flew down the steps. Olivia rushed up to greet her midway, flinging her arms around Evie’s shoulders, clutching close the friend she’d missed for so long. She leaned back and captured Evie’s sweet face between her gloved hands, overwhelmed by delighted disbelief.
“Evangeline, is this where you’ve been hiding for so many years? Why didn’t you write to me at Beechgate?”
Evie’s sweet smile illumed ordinary features into startling beauty. “I thought you’d gone to the colonies years ago. Oh, Ollie, it is really you. I’ve missed you so terribly!”
Olivia hugged her friend’s narrow shoulders again, still not believing, hungering for Evie’s presence, her quiet brand of loyalty and steadfastness. No one was as true or as kind. Olivia leaned back and clutched Evie’s upper arms for an affectionate shake. She scolded with a smile, “I’ve worried so much about you, especially after you married—”
Her friend’s sudden, stricken expression stopped Olivia from saying more. Had that been fear in Evie’s eyes? It had to have been. Her face had lost all color for a moment.
She sensed the curiosity of Harry and his friends standing at the foot of the wide staircase. They stayed in their places, offering two, reunited friends privacy, while Olivia’s mind whirled with questions.
Who would hurt wonderful Evie? More to the point, who would dare, while she lived under the Asterly’s protection? And why the name Merrick? She had to somehow extricate herself from Harry and corner Evie later. There was so much she needed to say and hear, but getting out of Harry’s grasp might not be the easiest task. He’d come up the steps to hover, his worry palpable and as endearing as it was not welcomed at this exact moment.
She heard Evie’s breath catch when her attention darted to someone coming up the steps. A gloved hand reached by Olivia’s arm. The low, dulcet voice of debonair Bates said, “Mrs. Merrick, allow me to assist you.”
Evie extended her hand to him, but kept her gaze down. As she passed by, she whispered, “We shall talk very soon.”
Olivia put her hand on the back of Harry’s raised wrist. She felt him studying her as they descended, his concern and interest in her friendship with
Lady Asterly’s companion. Why did he have to be so attentive? She loved the attention, but the yearning to hear Evie’s secrets overwhelmed her earlier fears about this evening. What had happened to cause the Honorable Jane Evangeline Dudonnaire to retire from society, her family, and devoted friends?
A gong sounded and Harry escorted her to the dining hall. He waved aside the footman pulling out her chair, saying, “I asked Lizzie for an informal, family seating.”
The table had been set for twenty, an intimate dinner before the remaining guests arrived. Olivia was surprised when Harry took the chair next to hers. Couples were usually separated. It had to be a case of Harry getting his way, as usual. He might have asked for the seating arrangement to keep her close at hand to familiarize her with those attending dinner, but Harry rarely behaved in a manner that could be described as usual.
Before he sat down, he discreetly shuffled his chair closer to hers. Tingles rippled from the top of her arm down to her fingertips every time his sleeve grazed her arm, making her sorry for the necessary removal of her gloves. The fleeting touches evoked memories that heated her face and other places she shouldn’t think about at the dinner table.
She sent Harry a visual warning to behave. He smiled back with serene innocence and captured her hand under the tablecloth. He made lazy circles in the center of her palm with a manicured fingernail. She had to grit her teeth to quell her reaction and recollection of his employing the same method elsewhere, slow and persistent. He had trapped her in place then as he did now, forcing her acceptance of pleasure. The difference was a room crowded with people. Fortunately, they were attentive to their dinner companions and paying no attention to what Harry was doing. She feared the footmen standing against the wall could see. One stepped forward to retrieve a glove that slid from her lap, but he retreated when Harry reached down and retrieved it from the top of her right slipper. He used the opportunity to glide his fingertips up the side of her ankle. The unexpected intimacy scalded.
Although Harry showed no indication of the havoc arcing between them, Lady Asterly sent him an admonishing visual reprimand. He accepted her silent scold with a half grin and one-shouldered shrug, but he relented as the courses arrived.
Her stomach hadn’t settled enough to enjoy the turbot on her plate. She pushed around tidbits, while trying to ignore Harry’s gaze on her chest. She felt it as tangibly as the touch of his fingers.
After his plate was taken away and they waited for the next course, he murmured, “How delightful to own a figure that compliments the gown instead of the other way around.”
“Behave, Harry. You’ll be overheard.”
“We are among friends who tend to speak their minds. Some of them without any caution whatsoever. If we are too polite, they might suspect a previous exchange of insults.”
“Harry, they are your friends and not one of them is ordinary. Is Mr. Bates to be trusted?’
“In what way do you mean?”
“I’m worried about Evie. He’s rather…predatory.”
Harry glanced at his friend, who didn’t bother to mask his intense fascination with the lady sitting on his left. “It’s rather unusual for Freddy to be so obvious, especially about his amours, but none of us is the least bit conventional.”
“You have a way with understatement.”
Sandalwood’s exotic perfume wafted over her when Harry leaned closer with the pretended reason of sliding her wine glass closer to hand. The lowering of his voice warned her of the intimate words to come. “Are you envious of his avidity? His frank lust? Should I belatedly woo you with bad poetry, my Livie? Perhaps I should devise an ode to your left nipple. No?”
She choked from the combination of embarrassment and humor. Flustered and trying to hide it, she reached for the wine, while he leaned closer and said against her ear, “Then later we shall perform a duet together, me with my lascivious flute and you with your sultry contralto howl.”
She choked on the wine. His chuckle sent a shiver down her arms followed by a rush of heat. “Please, Harry. Stop this. How shall I contrive to maintain a proper countenance for the rest of the evening with that image in mind?”
“Precisely as I’d hoped. You have the most delectable way of blushing. Everywhere.”
Feeling as tight as a finely drawn wire ready to snap, Olivia considered kicking Harry’s ankle for relief. And spite. Lady Asterly’s astute eye perceived exactly what Harry was about and interceded in Olivia’s behalf, by drawing Harry’s attention with a question. He leaned back in his chair to turn his attention to the end of the table.
Olivia’s shoulders sagged in relaxation. Out from under his intense focus, she might be able to think clearly. How was she going to keep any sort of mental equilibrium for the rest of the night? This was Harry’s milieu, not hers, and the party had just begun.
Released from Harry’s seduction game, she directed her concern to the couple across the table. Mr. Bates had seated Evie beside him, using the proximity to do what Harry had been doing but not as discreetly. Where Olivia worried about telltale blushes, her beloved Evie looked pale and terrified.
Bates lifted a sleek, black eyebrow when Olivia sent him a glare of warning. He looked away to study his companion’s face. Since Olivia could only see his profile, she wasn’t sure of his expression, but noticed the change in his posture, a slight withdrawal. Perhaps he hadn’t given complete notice to Evie’s discomfort. He and Harry ran with a fast crowd of hardened personalities. Perhaps now that Olivia was considered part of the fold, her displeasure made an impact.
For whatever reason, Mr. Bates looked back at Olivia and dipped his head in a bow of concession. He also sat back in his chair and attended the food he’d previously ignored. Evie visibly relaxed, wrenching Olivia’s heart, because as stout as she was on the inside, Evie had always looked physically delicate. Whatever Bates had been doing or saying had pushed her friend to look as if she were ready to bolt or shatter.
The time finally came for the ladies to retreat to allow the gentlemen their port and to blow a cloud. The scuffle of chair legs as the men stood scraped across her tender nerves. It took all of Olivia’s reserve not grab Evie by the hand, shove her hostess out of the way, and drag her friend from the female guests. With a whispered word, Evie halted Lady Asterly, who listened and glanced back at Olivia with a nod.
Evie tucked her arm through Olivia’s, headed down the hallway and up the steps. “Come with me. I begged to be excused to take you to the retiring room.”
“But we’re not going that way.”
“Hush, Ollie. There will be too many ears there. I’m taking you up to my rooms. We can’t be absent overlong. Her ladyship expects me to help serve and assist with the music.”
“But you don’t play.”
Evie grinned. “Not well enough that anyone could bear to listen, but Lady Asterly is a great proficient. It’s part of my role as companion to take her place as hostess when she plays. I overheard her talking with Sir Harry about you singing. I do hope you will.”
“Evie, I still can’t take in that you’re a companion here.”
“Of sorts. I would call me a hanger-on. Lady Asterly is too good to me. Always has been. My rooms are at the end of this passage. Quite lovely and spacious. The sitting room overlooks the back garden.”
Olivia was astonished by the excellence of rooms allotted to a companion. The bedchamber, a private bath, the sitting and dressing rooms were more luxurious than the master suites she’d seen in larger houses.
Evie pressed Olivia down on a sofa and sat close beside her. “It’s rather grand for a mere companion, but that’s how her ladyship is. Generous to a fault. This apartment was set aside for her former companion, also named Olivia and a distant relative of Lady Asterly’s late husband. He was a martyred war hero. Then her ladyship married another hero the second time. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Peninsular war heroes have been rather thick on the ground the last years. Evie, tell me, why aren’t you us
ing your real name? What happened to your husband?”
“Edward died a few weeks after we wed. Scarlet fever, they said. I wasn’t allowed to be with him.”
“Oh, Evie, how heartbreaking. But why did you take a situation? He left you well-provided for and your family would never turn you away.”
“So many complications to tell you about, most of them discovered after I married.” Evie clutched Olivia’s hands. “Oh, Ollie, I have a son!”
Olivia inhaled a gasp of surprise. “A son? Where is he? Are you allowed to see him?”
“Edward’s family doesn’t know about him. They mustn’t!”
“But how could they not know? Evangeline, he is the heir.”
“I shouldn’t have told you. Very few know the particulars. Lady Asterly has helped me since I came to her penniless and with child but has never questioned. She somehow knows that I must stay hidden.”
“Hidden? Oh, I see. If the family knew—”
Evie interrupted, her expression stern. “Yes, Olivia, they would take my boy from me, and you remember the stories about his uncle.”
Olivia swallowed to ease the revulsion that closed off her throat. “Yes, the penchant for boys.”
“Precisely. Instead of taking the title, he would have much preferred to act as trustee and guardian with complete control. If the family realized I was enceinte when Edward died, they would have taken him from me the moment he was born. They never liked me to begin with and wouldn’t have allowed me near him again.”
“But what about his inheritance? It is his due.”
Evie glanced at the ormolu clock on the side table. “And he shall have it. His birth was witnessed, his baptism recorded, but in my family’s parish. They can try to deny him, but they won’t try after one look, for he is the image of Edward. In any event, if we decide not to fight any legal issue the family might pursue, then we are no worse off than we were before.”
Olivia’s shoulders sagged in sympathy. “You’ve endured so much, so many obstacles, and yet that does not surprise me. You were ever stalwart and so loyal when others were unkind to me.”