Laura glanced back at her daughter. “When it is done,” she said firmly. “Please, might we just enjoy this pleasant journey?”
“As long as I can bathe as soon as we reach this dowager’s residence, I shall not say another word.”
Laura smiled. “An excellent trade.”
Olivia sat back, entirely convinced that her father was lying and indulging in another affair, but there was no use in dredging up such a thing. After all, Olivia’s mother would be the first to notice if her husband had gone astray again, and she would be the first to pretend she did not know. When it came to matters of her broken heart, Laura’s lips were sealed shut, her mind an impenetrable vault that needed to stay locked in order to ensure her survival.
And that is why I will not be marrying anyone, Mama,Olivia vowed silently.I will not pretend to look the other way while I am disrespected by a man. I will not let anyone break this heart of mine.By the time their visit came to an end, the marquess would not even be able to be in the same room as Olivia; she was counting on it.
“Itisa little bit exciting,” she half-lied, stung with a jab of guilt as her mother looked back at her with a smile so wide and hopeful.
“It is! I told you!” her mother cried, taking hold of Olivia’s hand and squeezing it tight.
But the only excitement Olivia truly felt was anticipation for the plan she intended to execute. It demanded discretion, of course, for if her father caught wind of what she meant to do, he would marry her off to this stranger without delay… and that could not be permitted, under any circumstances.
Marquess, I hope you are ready to welcome me, for I will ensure that I am impossible to forget.A smile turned up the corners of Olivia’s lips as she squeezed her mother’s hand in return, swallowing down an explosion of laughter as she envisioned what was to come. The marquess might have thought he knew women intimately, but she was about to show him that he had no idea what they were truly capable of.
CHAPTERTHREE
“They are here!” Amelia yelped, tugging on Evan’s arm as he stood by the drawing room window, staring out at the long gravel drive.
“I have eyes, Aunt. I can see they are here.” His stomach clenched, his discomfort rising.
Amelia tutted at him. “Adjust your cravat, make yourself presentable and, above all, be nice!”
“I am always nice,” he replied, already imagining his “betrothed’s” face when she realized who he was. If she was the sheltered sort who never touched the scandal sheets or deigned to enjoy a ball or gathering where gossip prevailed, he would just have to leave the evidence where she would be left in no doubt.
Amelia hurried toward the door, turning back on the threshold. “Are you not coming?”
“I will wait in the adjoining room until you have given your welcome speech,” he replied. “Indeed, I thought it best to allow you and the ladies to adjust before making my entrance.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Very well, but do not think you can make a sly escape. I have the groundskeepers watching every possible exit.”
“I would not dream of it.” He put on a smile, wishing he did not adore her so much. If he liked her just a little bit less, perhaps he would have found the nerve to flee back to his own estate before his betrothed could be shoved into his path.
* * *
“It is my great pleasure to welcome you to my humble abode,” an older woman announced, waiting at the bottom of the steps as Olivia and her mother alighted from the carriage. The Dowager Countess, presumably.
Olivia mustered a weary smile. “I hardly think you can call such a residence “humble.” I cannot imagine a hermit or a cleric living a modest life within such walls.” Her mother flashed her a warning look, prompting Olivia to add, “What I mean to say, rather clumsily, is that it is a beautiful house, and we are so very grateful to be welcomed.”
Olivia was surprised by the earnest note in her voice, entirely fabricated.
The Dowager Countess chuckled. “You must be nervous,” she said, “but there is no need to be. I am certain we shall enjoy ourselves during your stay. Why, it is always a delight to breathe new vigor into these hallways.”
“You are too kind, My Lady,” Olivia replied, dipping into a curtsy.
“Indeed, we are so very happy to be here,” Olivia’s mother agreed, weaving her arm through Olivia’s.
The Dowager gestured toward the house. “If you will follow me, I thought we might take tea in the drawing room so that you can rest yourselves, and then I shall show you everything there is to see at my admittedly not-so humble abode.” She flashed a wink at Olivia, who had the slightest inkling that she might come to like the Dowager.
With that, Olivia and her mother followed the Dowager into the pretty sandstone manor—smaller than Olivia’s residence of Canrave Hall, yet somehow more striking with its porticoed entrance and cloistered front terrace that resembled an ancient temple of some kind.
Soon enough, the three women were comfortably situated in a grand drawing room, sharing a pot of tea as birds squabbled for crumbs out on that beautiful, cloistered terrace.
“We must apologize for our untidy appearance,” Olivia’s mother said, sipping her tea as if she had drunk nothing for a week. “Our departure from Canrave was somewhat chaotic, and we thought it best not to pause on our journey to seek rest at one of the charming countryside inns that we passed on our way.”
The Dowager batted a dismissive hand. “Not at all, dear Viscountess. You both look lovely.”
