Two weeks,he told himself.Two weeks, and I will be free again.
But, considering both he and Olivia desired the same thing, it remained to be seen who had the fortitude to uphold the engagement and who would be the one to surrender, ending it first.
CHAPTERFOUR
That evening, after a long nap that had done nothing to chase away the weariness in Olivia’s bones nor the abject shock of what had occurred in the gardens, she contemplated feigning a headache as the time for dinner approached.
Mama will look at me withthatexpression if I do,she lamented, for though she wished her mother possessed more backbone and might have refused this match altogether, Olivia still could not bear to disappoint the person she loved most in the world.
So, dressing in a more comfortable gown of magnolia muslin with the help of an assigned maid, kindly offered by the Dowager, Olivia made her way to the dining room at a somewhat respectable five minutes late.
Opening the door to the opulent dining hall, where a long table took pride of place, covered in a delicate lace cloth, a burst of noise and laughter struck Olivia squarely in the face. The Dowager and Olivia’s mother were seated at the top end of the table, huddled close, as thick as thieves, giggling and chatting rather raucously.
“Darling, there you are!” Laura cried, beckoning to her daughter. “We were just placing a wager upon the time of your arrival.”
The Dowager nodded. “It is always customary for a young lady to be somewhat late. Why, you are practically early and have lost me a shilling.”
“I knew you would not be so very late,” Laura explained with a shy smile.
It pleased Olivia to see her mother smiling, her cheeks rosy, her eyes bright with humor and vitality. Indeed, it was not such a familiar scene at Canrave Hall, where a perpetual, unspoken sadness hung in the air like faded garlands from a bygone ball.
Just then, a not inconsiderable force knocked into Olivia’s back, almost sending her sprawling across the parquet floor.
“Goodness, I did not see you there!” A hand shot out to grab Olivia’s arm, steadying her. “Please, forgive me. I am so clumsy I ought to have a note pinned to my chest, warning all to keep their distance.”
Disoriented, Olivia turned to see a young lady standing behind her, her hand still gripping Olivia’s arm. The lady was more of a girl, in truth, and could not have been older than six-and-ten.
“I, too, suffer the affliction of clumsiness,” Olivia said, recovering. “I wonder if, when two clumsy souls meet, it rather annuls the awkwardness of both.”
The girl’s face lit up. “We must experiment with your theory, though I fear it may be to the detriment of everyone around us.” She paused, sticking out her free hand. “Lady Caroline,” she added, by way of introduction, “though you must call me “Caro,” or I may not know you are referring to me.”
“Olivia,” Olivia replied simply, taking the girl’s hand.
Caroline chuckled. “Of course you are. It is not so often we have visitors, and I have been so eager to meet you. Too eager, perhaps, considering I almost knocked you over.”
“Are you…?” Olivia faltered, for she could not place Caroline in an appropriate relationship with anyone within the household.
“My daughter,” the Dowager interjected.
Caroline nodded. “I was an “unexpected surprise,” as Mama likes to say.”
“An exceedingly pleasant one,” the Dowager insisted. “And not so unexpected. You were dearly longed-for, darling, and you must not forget it.”
Caroline weaved her arm through Olivia’s. “Come, let us sit. You must tell me everything of society, for I have not debuted. As such, I can only live vicariously. You must have such stories to tell, and I shall not be satisfied until I have heard every last one!”
From the far end of the table, Laura flashed Olivia a nervous look, as if to say:“Do not corrupt another young lady with your manifesto; I beg of you.”If Olivia was not making a concerted effort to present herself as a kindly, polite, obedient member of society, perhaps she would have done just that.
* * *
An hour, three courses, and an endlessly refilled glass of wine later, Olivia was almost beginning to enjoy herself. At the very least, she was enjoying Caroline’s company, so it was rather a shame that Evan had seated himself on the other side of her, trying to involve himself in conversations about London and the Season and the merits and pitfalls of balls and dinner parties.
“I find them to be the most wonderful occasions when one is with one’s friends,” Olivia explained, her head dizzy with the wine. “The rest does not matter much, particularly in your debut season. Just enjoy yourself with your dearest acquaintances; that would be my advice.”
Evan snorted, drawing a sharp look from Olivia. “If you do that, dear Caro, you might find yourself in Miss Agarn’s predicament, matched to a gentleman like me because she has waited too long, and all the good gentlemen are gone.”
“What nonsense,” Caroline laughed. “Olivia cannot be more than eight-and-ten.”
“Two-and-twenty,” Evan corrected with a sly grin that rankled Olivia. She was not ashamed of her age, for with it had come some wisdom, but she did not like his glee in announcing her age to the table.
