Lady Farquhar's Butterfly (21 page)

‘Including Mr
Petersham?’ Olivia prompted, wondering where this was leading. It
was unpleasant having Lucy put into words what she’d always
suspected about her female rivals.

‘Yes, and by
two o’clock I was so in the dismals that when he passed by and
said: “What ails thee, my pretty” I nearly burst into tears upon
the spot.’ As if galvanized by the reflection she reached up to
whisper loudly, ‘Then he touched my cheek and said, “Ah, so you do
care.

You’re jealous
over my attentions to your cousin? Well, let me tell you, Lady
Farquhar has only your best interests at heart and she is helping
our plans to be together by deflecting your mama’s attention away
from ourselves, for we both know that she disapproves of me”.’

Lucy clasped
her hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling as if her thoughts
were floating heavenward. Olivia stared at her, stricken, and
wondered what else the young lovers had discussed in those
impassioned few moments. ‘Shall you see him tomorrow?’ she
asked.

Lucy looked at
her a long moment as if weighing up whether to speak then said in a
rush, ‘We’re eloping, and I was going to keep it secret because Mr
Petersham said not to tell anyone, but as you’ve proved yourself
the most wonderful and loyal of cousins I had to tell you.’

‘Eloping?’
Olivia knew the disapproval in her voice was not a good idea, but
she was so horrified she couldn’t help herself.

Checked, Lucy
said with a frown, ‘I believe you, yourself, eloped.’

‘Eloping is a
very drastic measure which will scandalize society and bring you
much distress, Lucy,’ Olivia counselled, sounding to her own ears
very like Aunt Eunice. She took Lucy’s hands in hers as she drew
her further into the alcove. The girl refused to meet her eye,
staring with trembling mouth at the carpet.

‘Mama will
never consent to my marrying him before the end of the season,’ she
said, in a small voice.

‘Then have
your season, dazzle society and in six months, if you and Mr
Petersham still feel the same way and your mother still
disapproves,
then
you can consider eloping with him.’ She
squeezed Lucy’s hands, forcing her to look up at her.
‘Promise?’

Reluctantly
Lucy nodded. But when Mr Petersham appeared to lead Lucy once more
on to the dance floor Olivia felt little consolation from the
promise she’d extracted.

Or from the
weight of her reticule with the coins that would soon transform her
life. Olivia was about to embrace freedom and happiness with a man
of forgiveness and compassion whereas Lucy …

She stared
after the departing couple, Lucy blushing, giggling as her
companion made some apparently witty remark.

It would take
only Mr Petersham’s impassioned declaration of eternal love and a
request to climb into a waiting carriage and Lucy would be halfway
to Gretna Green before anyone knew of it.

As she issued
out of the alcove and went in search of her aunts she was waylaid
by Mariah.

Her initial
pleasure in her cousin’s company had evaporated.

Mariah’s
hospitality did not conceal her real feelings regarding Olivia:
that her scandalous past could never entirely be erased.

Her cousin
gripped her wrist, turning her in the direction of the dance floor
where the young couple were positioning themselves. ‘I fear Lucy’s
lost her heart to Mr Petersham and that any caution from me will do
nothing but firm her resolve in his direction.’

‘Eighteen can
be a difficult age if one is not quiet and modest by nature,’
Olivia murmured.

‘Quite.’
Mariah sent her a narrowed look.

Olivia dropped
her eyes. She felt uncomfortable, as if Mariah were both condemning
her and needing something from her at the same time.

‘Cousin
Mariah.’ She sighed. ‘I have told Lucy there is little happiness to
be found by resorting to such impulsiveness. That a kind man makes
a much better husband than a flattering buck.’ Staring at the young
people on the dance floor, at smooth, handsome, Mr Petersham and
awkward little Lucy with their heads bent close together, her
longing for Max redoubled.

‘Such wisdom
came to you too late, Olivia. Lucy, I fear, is similarly
headstrong.’ Mariah appeared not to realize how wounding her words
were.

Olivia felt
the tears forming and looked up as Mariah touched her arm.

‘You’ve been
given a second chance, my dear,’ she murmured, ‘but only because
you are a widow. My Lucy may rue this week in Bath for the rest of
her life.’

Olivia refused
to be drawn. ‘Lucy’s good sense will tip the balance,’ she hedged.
She wanted no more part in this conversation. ‘What more can I do?
Besides, you know Lucy better than I.’

‘I fear an
elopement is in the cards.’ Taking Olivia’s elbow, Mariah drew her
into the crowd so they would attract less attention. ‘Her aunt
Scrivener was here yesterday,’ she said, ‘roundly haranguing her
for every sin in the book: loucheness, frivolity, obstinacy. Just
the thing to whip up true rebellion in Lucy’s heart.’

Stopping on
the edge of the dance floor, Olivia followed her gaze.

She wondered
if she had looked that young, like Lucy, barely out of the
schoolroom, eyes bright with infatuation as she clung to Mr
Petersham’s arm.

‘It’s clear
she admires you enormously.’ Mariah broke into Olivia’s reverie,
cool green eyes watching her intently.

In a low voice
Olivia defended herself. ‘I have counselled Lucy against following
my deplorable example.’

‘You cannot
turn back the clock, Olivia.’ There was an edge to Mariah’s tone, a
hardening of her gaze. ‘
You
can’t and my Lucy can’t.’ Olivia
closed her eyes briefly and a tremor ran through her. Mariah spoke
the truth.

Struggling to
maintain her composure she replied in measured tones, ‘What is done
cannot be undone. But Lucy’s behaviour cannot be put at my
door.’

Mariah grew
angry. ‘Look at you, Olivia. You are magnificent in any sense of
the word. No wonder Lucy holds you up as her model. She cannot see
how you have suffered, for Lord knows I have heard it from your
aunts. You do not need to pretend for me.’ She put her hand to her
pearl choker. ‘To the ordinary eye you appear quite unscathed. You
have a title, beautiful clothes, the freedom to move about at
will—’

Olivia gaped.
Is this how she appeared? With not a feather to fly with, her few
clothes had been so mended and stitched to keep up with current
fashions she had wondered if she would be mistaken for a lowly
companion or chaperon fallen on hard times.

Apparently
not.

‘But Cousin
Mariah, I have said everything in my power to deflect Lucy from
following an undesirable course.’ She was shaking. ‘I flirted
shamelessly with Mr Petersham earlier this evening and Lucy thought
I did it merely to avert your scrutiny.’

‘You can do
more.’

Olivia had
only heard such stentorian tones from Aunt Eunice.

‘Really, I
don’t know what—’

Mariah sent
her another kindling look.

‘You have not
even begun to utilize your powers of attraction, Olivia, to prove
to Lucy that Mr Petersham is as fickle as we’ve all been at such
pains to tell her he is.’ Realizing that the strength of her grip
had made marks, Cousin Mariah caressed the bruised white flesh of
Olivia’s arm above the glove. Her smile was brittle. ‘If you
believe in honour and atonement, Cousin Olivia, there is something
I would ask of you.’

Miserably,
Olivia stood by her aunts, her pleasure in the evening’s gaiety
entirely evaporated.

She didn’t
have to do this, she told herself. The day Lucien died was the day
she should have been able to stop acting against her better
judgement.

She managed a
smile at some inanity Aunt Catherine directed towards her before
the aunts resumed their animated conversation with an old
acquaintance.

She had only
just freed herself of Nathaniel’s yoke. He’d used blackmail to bend
her to his will, but she’d proved herself stronger than that. Now
Mariah was appealing to Olivia’s nobler instincts, pressuring her
to perform an act of charity designed to save her impetuous young
daughter from falling into the same trap that had all but ruined
Olivia’s life.

Swamped by her
own helplessness, Olivia plucked at the embroidered silk of her
reticule and tried to draw strength from the fortune it contained.
What should she do?

Mariah’s eyes
were upon her. At her side, Lucy, pink-cheeked and radiant was
gushing, ‘Cousin Olivia! Mr Petersham has asked me to stand up with
him twice already!’

With a smile
for Lucy and ignoring Mariah, Olivia pretended to turn her
attention to her aunts’ conversation.

Her limbs felt
heavy but she would do it. She had no choice if her conscience was
to be clear. A clandestine kiss in a dark corner observed by Lucy
was all that was required. How many men had kissed her when Lucien
had been alive?

Revulsion
soured her mood further while the memory of her seven long years as
Lucien’s wife galvanized her courage. If she refused Mariah’s
request and Lucy eloped with Mr Petersham, Lucy would be ruined and
Olivia would be culpable, in part, through her inaction.

That was how
Mariah regarded the matter.

Fingering the
key at her neck a burst of excitement outweighed her present
trials.

Elmwood.
Elmwood was only two hours away.

Surely Max
would still want her when she was returning more than she had taken
away? Surely tomorrow’s reunion would compensate for tonight’s
trials?

As she
scrutinized her reflection in the empty ladies’ withdrawing room a
little later, she bolstered her flagging confidence with the
thought of seeing Max again.

Satisfied by
what she saw, she stepped back, smoothing the unaccustomed full
skirts of her scandalous costume. Her eyes were bright and her skin
still lustrous with none of the blemishes of age one might expect
in a woman beyond her first flush of youth. She tilted her chin and
fluttered her lashes. Her eyes flashed an invitation.

Tomorrow she
could be herself, but tonight she had one final duty to fulfil:
hoisting Mr Petersham by his own petard. A duty Cousin Mariah
believed would change her daughter’s life.

‘Cousin
Olivia?’

Mariah’s voice
floated from the passage and Olivia felt cold dread fingering her
entrails. She was waiting for her, the noise of the ball filtering
through the door at the end. With heavy heart Olivia turned to
answer her summons.

‘You will not
fail me?’ Cousin Mariah’s mouth was a thin line as she drew Olivia
back into the throng. ‘In less than three years Lucy will have her
entire fortune at her disposal.’

‘Rest assured,
Cousin Mariah,’ she said wearily, ‘that I shall persuade Mr
Petersham three years is too long to wait when other rewards might
be forthcoming faster.’

Mariah’s green
eyes flashed their gratitude. With a faint smile she laid her hand
upon Olivia’s arm. ‘Deliverance and atonement, my dear,’ she said,
giving her wrist a squeeze before she left her.

Immediately
Olivia was struck by the fear that Mr Petersham would fail
her
. Was she not too confident in her powers of attraction?
This reservation was swept away as warm breath tickled her ear and
Mr Petersham’s voice, low and suggestive, asked, ‘How many
gentlemen have told you you’re far and away the most beautiful
woman in the room?’

‘Too many to
count, Mr Petersham.’

He grinned as
they stood for the moment, alone, in an uncrowded corner of the
ballroom.

‘Your dry
humour, Lady Farquhar, sits better with me than the endless chatter
of a besotted schoolroom miss.’

Slanting an
amused look at him beneath her lashes, Olivia remarked, ‘I thought
what a handsome couple you made when you addressed Lucy tonight. I
hope you will not break her heart.’

Mr Petersham
gave a short laugh. ‘You have not a reputation for being
tender-hearted. Besides, Lucy is a willing participant in the
marriage mart. I am curious as to your participation,’ he went on,
caging her hand upon his arm as they made a leisurely progress. ‘A
widow surely grows bored and lonely in time.’

‘I have too
handsome a fortune to grow bored and I can assure you, Mr
Petersham, I am never lonely.’

She said the
lie as a challenge; recognized that he interpreted the subtext that
she made herself available for dalliance on occasion.

And that right
now she was contemplating him.

‘You are a
remarkable woman, Lady Farquhar,’ he murmured, drawing her towards
the dance floor. ‘Very different from your cousin, Lucy, who I fear
would make a dull bedfellow. Come! A quadrille?’

She could not
deny the intoxication she felt as she preformed her moves though
she wished Mr Petersham were not holding her so tightly.

Elation filled
her. Dancing made her feel alive. She must put aside the horror of
what Mariah required her to do. She was on a mission to save Lucy.
A mere kiss when she had been forced to do so much worse in her
life? It was nothing.

Dear God, rein
in your temper, or you’ll snap the stem of your champagne flute,
Max exhorted himself as he gazed at the couple upon whom surely all
eyes were fixed. By the saints in Heaven, she was dazzling. No
wonder Lucien had needed to possess her. For this was the Olivia
who had set his dissolute cousin’s pulses racing. Not the demure,
grieving widow she’d pretended to be when she’d made his
acquaintance. Not the sincere, responsive damsel in distress who
had avowed her love for him. The trouble was, Max was as
susceptible to Olivia the dazzling beauty as he was to the maligned
widow and damsel in distress.

He swallowed,
uncomfortably conscious of his desire as he surreptitiously stared
over Miss Hepworth’s shoulder while trying to concentrate on the
young lady’s chatter about her pony.