In the Company of Secrets (32 page)
‘‘I will be making arrangements before we depart Chicago tomorrow. You will be advised if anything is expected of you regarding our daughter.’’ Worry tightened the earl’s features, and he turned his attention back to the infant.
‘‘I would be pleased to fetch Morgan’s cradle. Lady Charlotte purchased it for him only weeks before his birth.’’
The countess gently touched her husband’s arm. ‘‘Please, my dear? I would like to take the cradle with us.’’
He hesitated but then agreed. ‘‘Miss Mott, have you written any of your relatives at home about my daughter or the child?’’
Olivia shook her head.
‘‘The countess tells me Mr. Morgan denies he fathered the child. Did Charlotte speak to anyone else regarding Mr. Morgan’s involvement? Mr. Pullman or Mr. Howard, perhaps?’’
‘‘Not to my knowledge. She did write a letter to Mr. Morgan after the baby’s birth. She had the missive delivered to his office, but I’m unaware of the contents.’’
He hadn’t yet advised what she was to tell anyone who questioned her about the child. Mr. Billings would want details, especially when he saw the earl and countess depart with the infant tomorrow morning.
‘‘What would you prefer I tell anyone who might inquire about the infant?’’
The earl stiffened and squared his shoulders. ‘‘Tell them it’s none of their business, and if they have further questions, they may direct them to me.’’ He rang a bell, and one of the servants immediately appeared from the adjoining room. ‘‘Go along with Miss Mott and retrieve the cradle she gives you. Bring it back to our rooms posthaste. The child needs a proper place to sleep.’’
Morgan was nestled in the arms of the countess, and Olivia looked longingly in their direction. ‘‘Might I hold him one final time, Lord Spencer?’’
The earl muttered and waved her toward his wife. ‘‘Of course. Say your good-byes to the child.’’
Olivia gathered Morgan into her arms and kissed his chubby cheeks. She whispered words of love into his tiny ear and then quietly sang him a soft lullaby. Suddenly, she no longer cared that mending and laundry needed to be completed before morning. Morgan cooed and gurgled, and she beamed at him. Such a lovely child.
The countess removed the baby from her arms. ‘‘I know this is difficult for you, but we have much to accomplish if we are to depart on schedule tomorrow morning.’’
‘‘Yes, of course.’’ Olivia placed one final kiss on Morgan’s forehead and then motioned for the servant girl to follow her. ‘‘I wish you all a safe journey back to England.’’
A surprising tenderness shone in the earl’s eyes as he acknowledged her. ‘‘And we thank you for the fine care you’ve provided the boy, Miss Mott.’’
Olivia offered a deep curtsy. ‘‘It was my great pleasure, Lord Spencer.’’
As Olivia and the servant descended the stairway, Mr. Billings rushed toward the front desk. With his glasses perched across his thick nose, he leaned across the front counter, lying in wait to attack. She’d barely touched one foot to the bottom step when he waved his lanky arm in a wide circle, motioning her to him.
She shook her head and continued walking. ‘‘I’m on an errand, Mr. Billings. I don’t have time for idle chatter.’’
He removed his glasses and frowned but made no further attempt to detain her. However, she knew he’d seek her out tomorrow. She could hardly wait to deliver the earl’s message to him.
Except for the sounds of her own grief, the house had been much too quiet since Morgan’s departure. Though Olivia had been awake most of the night, she remained uncertain what she would tell Mrs. DeVault. She’d considered going to visit last evening but had feared she would be overcome by her tears and a lack of words.
Tell the truth—no more and no less
. The same message had been playing over and over in her head since the servant left with Morgan’s cradle last evening. She wanted to keep her promise to God and tell the truth. She uttered a silent prayer that Mrs. DeVault wouldn’t ask too many questions.
The older woman arrived with her usual smile and the daily weather report. As she entered the parlor, she scanned the room and then turned to Olivia. ‘‘Your eyes are puffy and red, child. Tell me what’s wrong.’’ She unfastened her cloak and frowned. ‘‘Did you leave Morgan in your bedroom this morning?’’
‘‘No. Morgan is gone.’’ Tears threatened and a lump formed in her throat as she whispered the words. She gathered her courage and forced herself to continue. ‘‘Surprisingly, the Earl and Countess of Lanshire spoke to me about their desire to rear Morgan as their own child. They plan to depart this morning for their return journey to London.’’ Her lips quivered as she inhaled deeply.
Mrs. DeVault gasped and then placed her open hand across her lips. ‘‘So
that’s
why your eyes are swollen. You’ve been awake and crying most of the night.’’
Olivia didn’t want to talk about the difficult night she’d endured. If she did, she’d begin crying and never regain control. ‘‘He needed the stability of a permanent home. Even you had mentioned the fact that I couldn’t continue to care for him indefinitely.’’
‘‘But with a family of nobility? At their age, I can’t imagine why they would want the child.’’
Olivia glanced at the clock, hoping Mrs. DeVault would take her cue. ‘‘Who knows what causes people to make such decisions? I know they will provide the boy with an infinitely better life than I could have hoped to give him.’’ Lifting her cape from the divan, she tossed it about her shoulders, thankful when Mrs. DeVault followed suit.
Offering a feeble smile, the older woman walked alongside Olivia to the front door. ‘‘I’ll need to get back home and take the remainder of the day to remember how I filled the hours before young Morgan came into my life.’’
Olivia held her emotions in check. ‘‘I do appreciate all the assistance you’ve provided. I couldn’t have done it without you. I believe this is the proper decision for the lad.’’
Mrs. DeVault swooped Olivia into a warm embrace. ‘‘How selfish of me! Here I should be offering you sympathy, and I’m tied in a knot worrying about myself.’’ She loosened her embrace but continued to pat Olivia’s hand. ‘‘It’s going to take a while for you to adjust to life without the boy. You must come over to the house and spend your evenings with us. Too much time alone isn’t good, and I don’t want to have you moping about.’’
Olivia followed Mrs. DeVault to the porch and locked the door. Once they descended the front steps, they headed off in opposite directions. ‘‘I’m setting a place for you at the supper table. Don’t disappoint me.’’
Olivia turned and waved. ‘‘I wouldn’t think of disappointing you.’’
She had told the truth, and Mrs. DeVault had easily accepted her explanation. Her prayer had been answered. She smiled at the thought and then uttered another prayer. There would be many explanations to make over the next several days. She would need God’s help with each one.
From the set of Chef René ’s jaw, she knew he would likely be the first to question her. She surmised Mr. Billings had already cornered the chef. His thick arms rested across the soft ledge provided by his paunchy stomach.
‘‘You know I dislike seeing Mr. Beelings armed with information about my employees.’’
The accusation wasn’t exactly what she’d anticipated. Nonetheless, Mr. Billings had obviously been gloating about the tidbits of gossip he’d managed to gather last night.
Members of the kitchen staff were at their workstations preparing for the first meal of the day. Olivia didn’t want to discuss this matter in front of them. She tipped her head toward the hallway.
His bushy eyebrows arched. ‘‘So now
you
give
me
orders?’’
She shrugged. ‘‘I thought you might prefer a bit of privacy.’’
‘‘Oui. We will go to my office.’’
She stifled a chuckle. So long as it was
his
suggestion, they would go to his office.
He closed the door and reached into his pocket. ‘‘Mr. Beelings said Lord Spencer left this for you.’’ The chef handed Olivia an envelope. ‘‘He says the earl and the countess had Morgan with them when they left this morning. Is this true?’’
‘‘Yes. They plan to rear him as their own child. He will have an excellent home.’’
‘‘This is good. The child has a good home, and I will once again have my protégée’s full attention.’’ He pointed toward her eyes. ‘‘Too much crying is not good. You must keep busy so you don’t have too much time to think. You can read the letter this evening. We have breakfast to prepare for our guests.’’
With that said, he marched back to the kitchen, with Olivia following in his wake. He obviously planned to ensure she didn’t have time to think. She shoved the letter into the pocket of her navy blue skirt and hurried to keep pace.
Though she’d successfully avoided Mr. Billings throughout the morning, Mr. Howard entered the kitchen after the noonday meal and immediately summoned her to Chef René ’s office. ‘‘I’ve been advised the Earl and Countess of Lanshire departed this morning with Morgan in their custody. Is this information reliable?’’
It seemed that today she was going to spend more time in the chef ’s office than in the kitchen. She knew Mr. Billings was responsible for passing along the information, for Chef René discouraged gossip among the hotel staff. This was one of the many reasons he and Mr. Billings failed to get along. How many times would she be forced to answer the same questions? Perhaps she should just write a brief announcement, post it on the front desk, and be done with all the probing questions! Of course, she would never do such a thing, but the idea was appealing.
‘‘Yes, the earl and countess departed. Yes, they took Morgan with them. And, yes, your information is reliable.’’ The startled look on Mr. Howard’s face reflected she had been much too abrupt with her response. ‘‘Forgive me. I’ve already grown weary of answering the same questions.’’
His features softened. ‘‘In that case, I won’t interrogate you any further. If, at some time in the future, you’d like to offer additional details, I’d be pleased to listen.’’
‘‘Thank you for your understanding. Now, if there is nothing else . . .’’ Pressing her open palms against the chair arms, she pushed herself up.
Before she could escape, Mr. Howard interrupted and waved her back to her chair. ‘‘Not yet.’’ Fingers tented beneath his chin, he waited until she sat down. ‘‘With the baby no longer in your care, you are apt to be lonely. I would count it a pleasure if you would allow me to help you fill the void. Indeed, I believe this would provide the perfect opportunity for our postponed visit to Chicago. You choose the day and time, and I shall make the arrangements.’’
Olivia’s brain ceased functioning. She couldn’t think of any response to sidestep his offer. His open-ended invitation had placed her at a distinct disadvantage. She wanted to ask for time to think, yet she feared offending him. Instead, she decided to pick a distant date and hope something would arise in the interim. Not an excellent idea, but under the circumstances, it was the best she could do.
‘‘What about a Saturday in mid to late November?’’
He laughed, and then quickly sobered. ‘‘You are jesting, aren’t you? Surely you have several free hours before then.’’
No more lies
. Why did those words come to mind at this moment? She prayed for clarity of thought, for a response that would hold Mr. Howard at bay yet permit her to speak the truth. ‘‘I have much to accomplish over the coming weeks. I can no longer afford to remain in the flat I shared with Mrs. Hornsby.’’
He straightened in his chair. ‘‘I can assist you in that regard. I’ll have a list of available housing to you by late afternoon. We can go and check what’s available after work this evening.’’
For a brief moment, panic constricted her chest. Then she remembered Mrs. DeVault’s invitation. ‘‘I’ve already accepted an invitation to supper this evening.’’
‘‘Then tomorrow or the next day or the next. You surely haven’t engagements for every night this week.’’ Holding out his hands in entreaty, he awaited her response.
That idea certainly hadn’t worked to her advantage. But she needed to move, and if he insisted upon helping, his involvement in the process could be easily explained to Fred. ‘‘I believe tomorrow after work will do.’’ Before departing, she decided upon a final tack. ‘‘Quite frankly, there’s no reason to clutter your busy schedule with my search for housing. A list of available flats would suffice.’’
‘‘Miss Mott! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were attempting to avoid my company. I deem it a pleasure to escort you. In addition, I believe I can provide the services of several men who will assist with the move.’’
She shook her head. ‘‘Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m confident Fred and Albert can manage. If not, they’ll solicit help from members of the soccer team.’’
Her refusal appeared to annoy Mr. Howard, but he didn’t comment further. He pressed his hands against the top of the desk and rose. ‘‘I’ll meet you at the kitchen entrance to the hotel tomorrow evening at six o’clock.’’
Olivia jumped to her feet, pleased finally to escape the confines of the room. She’d have this evening to explain to Fred.
