An Unexpected Gift (20 page)

Mr. Finch gestured for her to follow the man while he would follow her with Daniel bringing up the rear. Her heart beating madly, she swallowed and walked after the balding man.

He opened the door and led them inside. The room was painted a pale yellow with light green accents. The table linens were in the same color scheme, and in the center of the table beside a small candelabra stood a vase of daffodils. A fire burned in the grate, making the room warm, but not uncomfortably so. He moved to the table and pulled out a chair for Olivia.

“Thank you,” she said as she sat.

Mr. Finch took a seat opposite her while the footman stood against the wall near the door.

“We are offering beef stew with bread this evening, but if you’d like something else, I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind,” the balding man said.

“The stew and bread would be lovely, thank you.” Olivia raised a brow at Mr. Finch waiting for him to order something different. He seemed to have more refined tastes than simple peasant food.

“I will have the same. I’d like a bottle of your best wine and bring a bowl of stew for him.” Mr. Finch gestured toward Daniel.

“Do you have a small table you could bring in?” Olivia asked.

“Is this one not to your liking, my lady?” the proprietor asked, his brow creased with worry.

“Oh, no. The table is beautiful. It’s for my footman. No one should have to stand while having a meal.”

“Of course, my lady. I’ll have one brought in right away.” The man bowed and scurried from the room.

“My lady?” Mr. Finch mocked.

Olivia scowled. “I could hardly correct him. He seemed nervous enough in your presence.”

A knock sounded at the door before it opened. The balding man entered, carrying a bottle of wine. Two young men followed, struggling to carry the extra table into the room. They set it across the room and hurried out. A girl no more than ten years of age quickly set the table with plain white table linens. She shot a glance at the owner, who Olivia assumed was her father, before setting a tiny vase of blue wildflowers on the table and leaving the room.

She returned seconds later carrying a tray laden with food. With a minimum of movement, she deftly placed steaming bowls of stew in front of Olivia and Mr. Finch while her father poured the wine he’d opened. She set a basket of bread on the table and backed away with a curtsey. She stopped at the other table and placed the remaining bowl of stew and bread basket on the table and sent a smile in Daniel’s direction before disappearing from the room.

Olivia hid a grin behind her hand. She imagined the young girl would be quite the headache to her father when she grew older and young men started to notice her.

“Send your man out if you need anything else,” the owner said as he set the wine bottle on the table. With a final bow he left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Sit,” Mr. Finch ordered, pointing Daniel toward the other table.

The footman leaned against the wall and examined the nails on one hand.

“Please do sit down and enjoy your meal,” Olivia said, doing her best not to laugh at Daniel’s overt insolence toward Mr. Finch.

He crossed the room, moved the chair around the table so he sat facing them. He took a bite of bread, his gaze never leaving Mr. Finch.

The other man stared back, anger tightening his features. The two men were evenly matched in height and build, and while she had brought her footman as a form of protection, she didn’t want them to come to blows. She wanted the evening to pass uneventfully, with nothing coming of it but a pleasant meal and conversation. She touched Mr. Finch on the arm. “Perhaps you can tell me your favor now?” She hoped the question distracted him enough to cool his temper.

“I’ll not discuss it with him in hearing distance.” Mr. Finch lifted his glass and drank half the contents before slamming it on the table.

“Then I shall take my leave since that was the only reason I agreed to come this evening.” Olivia set her serviette on the table.

He put his hand over hers causing her to halt in mid-movement. “I don’t trust him.”

“I do, and if you want my help, you’ll have to do the same.” She pulled her hand from under his and rose to her feet. She made a staying motion to Daniel who now stood, his chair toppled to the floor behind him.

“I’ll not have my personal business bandied about by servants.”

“Daniel knows all of my secrets and has never spoken of them outside my home.”

Mr. Finch gave her skeptical look. “You are incredibly gullible for someone of your age. Servants love to gossip as much as the people they work for and especially
about
the people they work for.”

“Perhaps they do, but my servants do not. That I do know, despite my
advanced
age,” Olivia replied, stung by his comment.

“I meant no insult. Sit down and enjoy your meal.”

“One thing you should know about me, Mr. Finch, is that while I spent time on the battlefield, I was never a soldier. I do
not
take orders from anyone. I believe you and I will be more comfortable as strangers who share a mutual acquaintance. Good night.” She crossed the room, the footman at her side.

“Wait,” Mr. Finch called as her hand closed around the door handle.

She stopped but didn’t turn around. She heard his chair scrape against the floor as he stood.

“I apologize if I offended you.”

She faced him. “
If
you offended me?
If?”

“Obviously I have.” He gave a small bow. “I apologize for my choice of words. Will you please come, sit down?”

Crossing to the table, she held on to her temper with both hands. “You regret your choice of words but not saying them?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “You need to learn to accept an apology.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “Out of fear of saying anything else to offend you, can’t you accept the fact that I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

“You need to learn a better way to do it.” Olivia resumed her seat, her vanity still smarting. She turned and nodded to Daniel who moved back to his table and righted the overturned chair.

Mr. Finch sat with ill grace. “I’m not accustomed to bowing and scraping to anyone, much less a woman.”

“I’m not asking you to. An apology should be sincere, else it’s not worth the breath it takes to utter it. It shouldn’t be said just to placate someone. And you really need to learn how to talk to a woman without offending her.”

She picked up her fork. “Much less a woman indeed,” she muttered, stabbing a piece of beef with more force than necessary.

The remainder of the meal passed in silence with the three of them each concentrating on the food in front of them, though Daniel watched Mr. Finch the entire time.

Olivia drank the last swallow of her wine and set the glass down. She wiped her lips and laid the cloth napkin beside her dish. “Thank you for the meal.” She turned to the footman. “Have you finished?”

At his nod, she stood.

Mr. Finch rose. “You aren’t leaving? We haven’t discussed my favor.”

“I don’t think there ever was a favor to be asked. I’m not certain what you hoped to achieve this evening, but I’ll not be a party to it any longer.”

“I do have a favor to ask.” Urgency colored his voice.

Olivia did her best to refrain from rolling her eyes. One thing that could be said about Mr. Finch was that he certainly was tenacious. “I don’t think I’m inclined to do any favors for you.”

She crossed the room, Daniel once again at her side. She stopped at the door, her manners coming to the fore. “Thank you again for dinner.”

“I want you to teach me how to read.” The words burst from Mr. Finch like a bullet from a pistol. He stood with his hands clenched at his sides, a tide of red coloring his cheekbones.

“Teach you to—”

“Read,” he interrupted before turning to the man standing beside her. “If you breathe one word about this, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“He won’t say a word to anyone.” She moved to the table. “Do you truly not know how to read, or is this another ploy to detain me here for some reason of your own?”

“I do not,” Mr. Finch uttered through gritted teeth.

“But you said you own a business, a gaming hell.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Aye, I do. I’m quite accomplished at taking care of the money or spotting a person attempting to cheat, but Lazarus takes care of any contracts that are needed and deals with the shopkeepers for the food and such.”

“But you said earlier that he doesn’t know about your secret.” Olivia sank into the chair she had vacated.

“He doesn’t. I’m very adept at making it look like I can read. I’ve had years of practice, after all.”

“Why do you want to learn now? Why me?”

Mr. Finch sat across from her. “I’ve wanted to learn for years but didn’t know how to do it without the people who work for me finding out, much less the pigeons who come in to lose their money.” He glanced at Daniel, who lounged by the door. “My business would be ruined, and any investment Lazarus has in it would be lost as well.”

“But why me?”

“Lazarus told me how you often spent time teaching some of the soldiers and camp followers how to read when the battlefield was quiet.”

“What else has he told you?” Had her greatest secret been shared without her consent or knowledge?

“Just that you helped him with Rachel, that you have the skills of a good doctor but without the schooling.”

“I would have to disagree with him on that point. I received a great deal of schooling whether I wanted it or not on too many battlefields caring for too many young men who didn’t deserve to die the way they did.”

“I’ve offended you again,” Mr. Finch said with a sigh. “You are a mighty prickly woman.”

She tried not to smile at his words but couldn’t keep her lips from curving upward. “I’m not offended. I just don’t like the time I spent trying to save the men who died fighting the king’s wars being belittled like it was no more than spending the afternoon doing needlework.”

“I do apologize then, for that wasn’t at all what I intended.” He took a long swallow of wine and set the glass. “Will you teach me to read?” he asked in quiet voice.

She knew how much she longed to find a way to end her nightmares, her overwhelming fear of thunderstorms.

How could she turn away someone who wanted her help so badly when she had no honest reason to decline. She watched him fidget with the bread knife, his gaze riveted on it as though it held all the secrets of the world while he waited for her answer.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I will.”

She just hoped this wouldn’t become one more thing she regretted in an already long list of regrets.

Chapter Fifteen

Amanda rushed to Olivia’s side as soon as she and Will entered the ballroom. “I’m so glad you came. Isn’t Riverton the best husband to throw a ball in honour of my birthday?” As though noticing him for the first time, she turned and addressed Olivia’s companion. “Mr. Prescott,” she said, giving him only the politest of greetings. “Would you mind if I borrow Miss St. Germaine’s company for a moment?”

“Not at all.” Will took a step back.

Amanda threaded her arm through Olivia’s and hurried her through the crowd to the ladies’ retiring room. Once inside, she closed the door and took a quick glance around. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Olivia said, though she knew exactly what her friend was talking about.

“Did I not tell you weeks ago consorting with a mere mister would do nothing to enhance your reputation?”

“I’m not concerned with my reputation among people who claim friendship when I’m present only to spread vicious gossip about me when I’m not.”

“Perhaps you should be. My championing you as a friend will only buy so much tolerance. And being seen with Mr. Prescott will undo any good my name has done.”

Olivia crossed to the mirror and checked her appearance. The deep emerald green gown brought out the reddish highlights in her brown hair. She tucked a wayward curl into place and sighed. She was tired of this conversation. She and Amanda had had it more times than she cared for, with the same results each time. “I don’t see why.”

“Have you not heard the rumours?”

“Would those rumours be spread by the same people who insist Hargrove has taken up with Glenville’s wife when in fact she is his niece? If so, I doubt there’s any more truth to the lies about Mr. Prescott as there was about Lord Hargrove.”

“You know as well as I do, truth doesn’t matter. Damage can be done by rumours alone. People are saying your Mr. Prescott and the criminal known as Lazarus are one and the same. Surely, you must care if he is a thief or worse.”

Pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel, Olivia gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Of course I would care if it were true. Do you not think I would know if the gentleman I’m allowing to escort me to various entertainments were a criminal?”

“I’m not certain. Perhaps you wish for the attentions of a suitor, and any man who shows an interest is enough.”

Stung by her friend’s remarks, Olivia turned away from the mirror. “Much like you before you managed to trap Riverton into marriage by being found in his arms?” She didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Amanda’s gaze iced over. “Heed my warning, Olivia. Cut ties with Prescott. Do not make me choose between you and my standing among the
Ton.
” She wrenched the door open and stalked out.

Olivia sighed and went in search of Will. She supposed she should tell him there would be no future invitations coming from the Rivertons. Perhaps his friend, Lord Hargrove, could provide them, although the elderly man hadn’t been seen in company for some weeks.

She slowed as she saw him speaking with a couple. He met her gaze and gestured for her to come forward. She crossed to stand beside him.

He placed a hand on the small of her back, and though she knew it wasn’t acceptable to allow him such familiarity, she stayed where she was.