Still rattled by the day’s events, the skin of her hand still burning as if it had caught the sun, Olivia was beyond relieved when the group of five returned to the Dowager House and Evan announced that he would retire to his chambers until dinner.
For the first time in hours, she could breathe easily again, sitting in the company of women, drinking tea.
“Well, that was a lovely afternoon, if I do say so myself,” Amelia declared, lounging back upon the settee until the brocade cushions seemed like they might swallow her up.
Caroline nodded eagerly, biting into a scone as if she had not eaten in days. “I have never had such a lovely afternoon, Mama. Why have we not gone to the lake more often?” She sighed wistfully. “I was so very envious of the ladies and gentlemen rowing in the boats. Did it not look romantic, Olivia?”
“It looked rather strenuous,” Olivia replied, chuckling.As does romance,she neglected to add.
Olivia’s mother politely sipped her tea. “I remember boating once,” she said. “I had not long begun a courtship with your father, and he insisted upon us taking a boat along the Serpentine in London. He had evidently forgotten that it was the middle of April—it rained without pause for an hour, and by the time we returned to the boathouse, we were drenched, and I was furious, for I did not want to go boating in the first place. I almost ended the courtship there and then.”
I wish that you had,Olivia held her tongue, simmering silently.
“Oh, but is that not the most entertaining story to tell?” Caroline insisted. “Those amusing tales are the very essence of romance, in my humble opinion, for they are your history. Mama and Papa had such wonderful stories. I have always loved hearing of them, even now.” Her words were tinged with a sorrow that permeated the room, and as Amelia pretended to dab a crumb from her lip, Olivia saw the tear it was really supposed to brush away.
Olivia’s mother put on a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I suppose you forget the good stories, sometimes.” She glanced at Amelia. “You and your husband were happy, then?”
“Blissfully,” Amelia choked. “Of course, we had our moments of disagreement and frustration and suchlike, but… we were very fortunate indeed.”
Laura nodded. “It is not often that we ladies are permitted a love match.”
“Oh, we were not a love match initially,” Amelia hurried to say. “My father knew Lionel’s father, and we were both of good stock and station and fortune, so it seemed sensible to them that Lionel and I should marry. Indeed, I did not meet him until my wedding day. You cannot imagine how anxious I was, but as soon as I saw him standing there at the altar, the strangest feeling swept over me—it was like a calming wave, telling me that everything was going to be well, that this man would love and cherish me as well as any gentleman I could find by myself. Years later, he told me that he loved me the moment he set eyes upon me, and he truly did love me until he last set eyes upon me.”
Laura clasped a hand to her chest. “That is… quite beautiful, Amelia.”
“It was a beautiful union,” Amelia agreed. “And from it bloomed my equally beautiful children, who make my Lionel proud every day. I know they do.”
Olivia blinked back tears as she reached for her cup of tea, turning her face toward the cloistered terrace as she sipped from it so no one would see how moved she was. She was not the sort of woman who usually found tales of romance emotional, but even she could not deny that the love of Amelia and Lionel was one to be admired.
But they are the exception,she reminded herself, remembering everything that she and her friends had discussed, at length, throughout the years of their Spinsters Club. After all, Olivia only had to look at the painful envy on her mother’s face and think of her father’s betrayal to know that such love stories were rarer than diamonds.
“What of the Marquess’s mother and father?” Laura asked all of a sudden, piquing Olivia’s curiosity. “Forgive me, but my husband did not tell me much.”
The shift in Amelia’s demeanor was palpable, the bittersweet joy in her expression transforming into something cold and distant, but only Olivia seemed to notice. “They were a common enough pairing,” Amelia said stiffly. “They were neither a love match nor a marriage of convenience, but a marriage of… familiarity. Beatrix—Evan’s mother—was my childhood friend, and when she came of age, my father suggested to Beatrix’s father that Martin—Evan’s father—might marry her. I gained a sister, so I was rather pleased, but… there is nothing much more to be said of it.”
Olivia observed the older woman, sensing that there was a great deal more to be said thatwouldnot be said.
“Will they be attending the party?” Laura persevered.
“Evan’s mother is no longer with us, Mama,” Olivia interjected, astounded—yet, somehow, unsurprised—that her father had not bothered to inform Laura of such important details.
Laura paled. “Goodness, how foolish of me. I am sorry for asking such a thing; I truly did not know.”
“She was the brightest star in any sky,” Amelia said, with a faraway look in her eyes. “I miss her, even now, but you need not apologize. As you say, you did not know, and I never have any qualms about speaking of her. I wish she was spoken about more, in truth.”
But Laura, it seemed, had lost her taste for questions about Evan’s parentage. “Forgive me, but I feel rather weary all of a sudden,” she said. “Might you excuse me—I think I ought to rest before dinner.”
“I quite agree,” Amelia replied. “You and I are not spring chickens anymore, dear Laura, but nor are we in the winter of our lives, and as the autumn in-between is a time for hibernation, let us take our respective rest.” She looked at Olivia and Caroline. “Ladies, I assume you can entertain yourselves?”
Caroline nodded eagerly. “Of course, Mama. I am not so inept in company.”
“I have never doubted that,” Amelia said softly, rising to her feet.
As soon as the two older ladies were gone, Caroline lifted the tea tray, complete with scones and madeleines, and walked toward the French doors. “Shall we have our own little picnic in the gardens? It seems a tragedy to waste such a glorious weather.”
“That sounds like an equally glorious notion,” Olivia agreed, following Caroline onto the lawns and, from there, toward the pretty gardens that bloomed vividly in the golden glow of early evening.
The perfume of the flowers had intensified as the day cooled, and Olivia closed her eyes and breathed it all in, letting the powerful aromas soothe her still-frayed nerves. There was nothing to fear out here while Evan was safely in his chambers.
