Miss Goldsleigh's Secret (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Olivia woke up engaged.

She should have offered to explain her plan when Dalton was kissing her, but it seemed such a waste to spoil the blissful physical awareness. Also, she couldn’t remember the details of the plan at that particular moment or why it was so vital. She still couldn’t believe Lord Dalton hadn’t even flinched when Reginald had threatened her with attempted murder.

“I still have an idea for a way out of this mess,” she had told him. She’d stood on the first stair riser and still needed to tilt her head up to look him in the eye.

Lord Dalton shook his head. “I don’t want to hear another word about it. I have every intention of going through with this wedding.”

“But—”

He’d kissed her into silence.

So nothing was accomplished the previous night to help the situation, and with her mind a whirl with so much nonsense, she didn’t get much sleep either. It was difficult to shut off her head when it was full of beautiful men—both good and evil—insane proposals, unbelievable revelations, veiled threats, outstanding kisses, an injured brother, and a mother-in-law-to-be who was clearly unhappy about the prospect of her as a daughter-in-law.

She was reliving the kisses when the summons from the marchioness arrived before breakfast. Expecting something of the sort, Olivia had dressed by herself while the sun came up, choosing a peach-flowered morning dress because it buttoned up the front, thus it did not require her maid’s assistance. Her unruly hair was wound in a braid and secured with about a thousand pins in an effort to keep it presentable. While she dressed, she rehearsed how she was going to explain this mess to Lady Vivienne. It was of the utmost importance, even though she wasn’t planning to go through with the marriage, that the lady not think the entire event had been some wild machination on Olivia’s part.

Olivia squared her shoulders on the landing and took strength in the fact that she’d braved Mrs. Greene. Her landlady had been a dragon. Surely the gently bred Lady Vivienne would not be so terrifying. She inhaled a deep breath in front of the closed door then raised her fist and rapped on the paneled wood.

“Come in.”

Olivia curtsied. “Good morning, my lady.”

“Olivia.” Lady Vivienne perched on the edge of a sofa, alone in her favorite morning room. As always, she represented all that a powerful matriarch of
tonnish
society could be. The woman was impeccably dressed. Olivia was certain she didn’t have an unruly hair on her head. The marchioness came from French money, she presided over one of the most influential families of London society, and she knew absolutely everyone. If she wanted to squash Olivia like a bug, Olivia would have to let her do it. After all the lady and her family had done for her and Warren, Olivia thought it would be commendable if Lady Vivienne only threw her out into the street.

“My lady,” Olivia began, “please believe me when I tell you I had no intention, no intention whatsoever, of becoming engaged to your son. I told him as much last night, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I know.” Lady Vivienne’s voice was cultured and soft. It didn’t seem to hold any malice, either. “I never thought you did.”

Olivia blinked at her while she searched for something intelligent to say. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t believe you starved yourself in a park to the point of unconsciousness for the sole purpose of worming your way into my family. I do know several young women I wouldn’t put such considerations past, but not you.” Lady Vivienne shook her head and allowed a smile.

“But last evening you seemed quite angry with me.”

“Last evening was quite a shock, wouldn’t you say?” Lady Vivienne gestured for Olivia to take a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. Facing each other, they were not so far apart that Lady Vivienne couldn’t take Olivia’s hand, which she did. “I may not have presented myself in a gracious manner, but I was surprised. I admit I don’t much like surprises.”

“If I could have warned you or Lord Dalton, I would have, my lady,” Olivia blurted out. “I had no idea, I assure you, that my cousin would be at the party or even in London.” Or at any party. Ever again. Unless it was a party in hell.

Lady Vivienne arched her brows. “Beautiful man, your cousin. With what you’ve shared about your experiences with him, it’s hard to reconcile those stories with the way he looks.”

Olivia sighed. “That’s the way it’s always been. His handsome face lets him get away with everything. I understand if you don’t believe me.”

“Why wouldn’t I believe you? I haven’t known you for long, but you’ve given me no reason to suspect you.”

Olivia was queasy, her stomach flipping with the guilt of knowing how much she hadn’t shared with Lord Dalton and now Lady Vivienne. So she and Warren hadn’t killed Reginald, but wasn’t it almost as bad to bash him over the head with a frying pan, shoot him, and then leave him on the floor of her family’s kitchen with blood pouring out of a gunshot wound? Surely attempted murder was as hangable an offense as murder. Her continued presence could only bring heartache to this family.

“I hardly feel like I’m worthy of your good faith. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you or Lord Dalton for all you’ve done. I have tried to assure your son that I intend to account for every farthing.”

Lady Vivienne squeezed her hand. “I don’t expect my daughter-in-law to repay anything, and I don’t believe Henry expects his marchioness to repay him either.”

“You still expect Henry to go through with this?” Olivia’s eyes grew in disbelief.

“Certainly.” Vivienne nodded with assurance. “You did not?”

“I’ve met the kind of lady you expected your son to marry.” Olivia thought of his ex-fiancée the beautiful, sophisticated Lady Francesca, and knew she could never compare to the perfection of the other woman. “I have no intention of insisting Lord Dalton carry on this charade. I told him as much.”

“I see.” Lady Vivian was cryptic in her tone and expression. “What did Henry have to say to that?”

Olivia shifted in her seat to turn more decisively towards the marchioness. “He refuses to listen to reason. I hope you’ll be able to make him see the folly of even considering an alliance with me. I have a plan for a way out.”

Lady Vivian’s expression was indecipherable. “Why don’t you go ahead and divulge this plan.”

Olivia took back her hand and placed it in her lap where she fiddled with her dress. “I will have to go if I can ever hope my cousin will leave your family alone. I don’t think he’ll continue to plague you if I’ve disappeared.” Lady Vivienne didn’t add any remarks, so Olivia plodded on. “Before I came to stay here, I was trying to save enough funds to book passage to America, but the ticket’s very expensive. Maybe if I could get to France, I could lose myself on the Continent.” Lady Vivienne raised an eyebrow, but once again didn’t utter a word. Olivia lowered her gaze to stare at her hands in her lap. The admission she needed to make now was beyond embarrassing. “I don’t have the funds to purchase the ticket.”

“Ahhh, I see.” Lady Vivian nodded.

The next admission was harder. “I am afraid to make Warren travel with his broken arm.”

“And you’d like to leave him here. With us.”

Olivia couldn’t answer. She tried to control the sob that bubbled up from her chest and settled in her throat, but it escaped in a pathetic, gasping breath. She swiped the tears from her cheeks, angry with herself that she couldn’t keep control of her emotions.

“I suspect your brother won’t like being left behind.”

Olivia opened her mouth and shut it again. She closed her eyes and willed a calming breath. “No, I’m sure he won’t. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think his health must take precedence no matter how much it hurts.”

“Who are you afraid of hurting? Who do you fear will suffer the most, you or Warren?” Lady Vivienne asked, her expression still inscrutable.

Olivia’s tears flowed more freely at the painful thought of leaving her brother behind and venturing out into the world completely alone. Granted, Warren was a child, but he was company, and she loved him immeasurably.

Olivia wiped the tears from her cheeks with a determined swipe of the heel of her hand. “Warren will be angry, but he’ll come to see the wisdom in my leaving.”

“But I don’t know that I will,” Vivienne told her. “Honestly, I can’t see any wisdom at all in sending you out into the world by yourself and penniless. In fact, that sounds like the height of stupidity. If my son even gave an ounce of thought to your plan, I’d cuff his ears, marquess or no. He gave his word in a ballroom full of people. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t pretend none of this ever happened. You’re already in the gossip columns, and my family can’t stand another broken engagement.”

Why was nothing ever easy? All of these complications were killing her. “Really? Already? I can hardly fathom anyone would care.” The fabric of Olivia’s skirt was a wrinkled, disheveled mess.

“Wouldn’t care? Surely you’re kidding.” Lady Vivienne stood from the sofa and paced towards the bellpull, where she gave it a yank. “You’re talking about hundreds of people with little to do but meddle in other people’s lives. Last night was the height of excitement. I dare say we’ll receive more visitors today than we have in weeks simply because everyone will be hoping to be the first to hear something new about the situation. A good bit of gossip will assure entrée into all the best drawing rooms, Olivia. If they don’t get a story from us, they’ll make something up.”

Maids showed up in response to the summons, and Lady Vivienne gave them a series of instructions which Olivia didn’t pay much attention to. Olivia knew everything Lady Vivienne said was true. But what the marchioness wasn’t aware of was so much worse and made Olivia believe that if she stayed, she’d only hurt the family more in the long run.

Vivienne resumed her seat next to her. “So tell me, Olivia, if my son and I are willing to take all the risks, then why aren’t you interested in marrying my Henry?”

“That’s not it at all.” Olivia shook her head. After sharing several kisses and caresses with Lord Dalton, she was most definitely interested in pursuing marital relations with him. The skin on her upper chest and throat blushed hot. She clutched at the abused material of her dress to keep her hands from fluttering around her cheeks.

I wish I could let everything go…

“I thought not.” Vivienne patted Olivia’s forearm with understanding. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other, and I recognize an attraction when I see one. This engagement may not have come about the conventional way, but here it is, and we can all make the best of it. You’re a lovely, sweet girl. You’re brave and honorable with an intelligent head on your shoulders. Regardless of my less-than-charitable reaction yestereve, I’m happy to welcome you as my daughter-in-law.”

“That’s good to hear, Mother,” a deep voice resonated from across the room, “because I booked St. George’s for two weeks from tomorrow.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Wedding planning erupted around her.

Following Lord Dalton into the room, Evelyn glided in, her face beaming with…pride? “I told you I’d get you a society marriage this season.” Evelyn pulled her into a tight embrace. “Silly me. I’d never even considered turning you towards my nephew.”

“I didn’t plan this.” Olivia pulled away and protested yet again. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Evelyn eyed her with curiosity. “I know. No one thinks that, Olivia.”

How did everyone in this house think so much better of her than she thought of herself?

Penelope and Cassandra soon entered the ever-shrinking parlor. Though they were bleary-eyed from being roused so early in the morning after the late night, the excitement of planning a wedding also shown in their eyes. A light breakfast of tea and cinnamon cakes was set out on an improvised sideboard. Eventually the entire household wandered into the parlor, including her brother, who took the news of his sister’s engagement to Lord Dalton with obvious delight. Olivia mused that now Warren’s hero worship could continue on unabated. Perhaps that would lessen the blow when she left.

When she left.

Everything was so muddled now. Yesterday her course had seemed clear, obvious, and now, well, now everything was confused. The blasted man had kissed her again and didn’t even have the courtesy to fight with her afterwards. She cursed the tingling sensation that drifted over her at the sensory memory of that last embrace. No one could be expected to keep her head together when gods who walked the earth kissed attempted murderesses into utter and total stupidity.

Between bites of breakfast, the Cavendish ladies solidified a plan to curtail any unflattering gossip. Vivienne didn’t appear to be concerned about negative whispering, or at least that was the attitude she told the rest of the ladies they were to project to anyone raising an eyebrow in their direction.

“Enough of that nonsense.” The Dowager Marchioness, Lord Dalton’s grandmother spoke up. “The wedding is barely two weeks away. London can forget anything so long as there’s a good party.”

Evelyn agreed wholeheartedly. She’d sent word to the modiste, Madame Bolivant, and the dress was already underway. The ladies gathered round a table, and planning began in earnest. Olivia settled mutely on a settee in the middle of the flurry, stunned into silence at the sheer amount of activity that went into planning a society wedding. Stacks of paper, list after list of guests, what would be served at the wedding breakfast, flower arrangements, and all manner of minutia which never would have occurred to Olivia, were passed around the table, and each lady commented.

As far as Olivia could tell, she didn’t even need to be present for the planning of her wedding. She looked towards the doorway wistfully, wondering if there was any way she could sneak out undetected.
Which would make you an unworthy, ungrateful wench.

“What do you think, Olivia?”

“I’m sorry, I was woolgathering. What was the question?”

“For the flowers, I was thinking…” Penelope prattled on.

Olivia tried to listen, really she did, but her mind kept sliding unbidden into Dalton’s arms and their last kiss. She smiled and nodded at all the questions. She didn’t care about flowers or wedding breakfasts or even the gown. She wanted to be convinced marrying Dalton was the smartest, best thing for her to do. Maybe she was thinking too hard, resisting too much. Perhaps it was time for her fairy tale. Did handsome men really rescue damsels from ogres?

The whole sordid story reeked of melodrama.

She ought to write it down and see if she could commission it to a bookseller. Then she’d have enough money to run away to America. She smirked at the irony of that.

As if conjured by her thoughts, Lord Dalton appeared in the doorway. Her breath caught as his eyes sought her out, and as soon as his gaze found hers, he smiled at her. Her lips tingled in her anticipation of another of his sultry kisses.

“Henry,” Evelyn called out, noticing her nephew, “what do you want? We’re busy planning the wedding.”

“So I see.” Dalton surveyed his women. “How are the plans coming?” His gaze slid over to Olivia again, swept over her breasts and settled on her lips.

“The guest list has been assembled,” his mother informed him. “We’ll start on the invitations shortly.”

“Excellent.” He nodded. The women all stared at him for a beat or two. Clearly out of his element, he added, “I placed the advertisement in the papers.”

Vivienne marked something off her list. “Good.”

Dalton noticed his sister, Daphne, sitting with her arms crossed sullenly over her chest. Since Olivia had been in her own head most of the morning, she didn’t know what was wrong with her. “What’s the pout for, butterbean?” he asked his sister.

Helen piped up helpfully, “She’s mad because I knew before she did.”

Daphne squinted hard at her younger sister but addressed her words to her mother. “It’s not fair. I’m three years older than her.”

“That’s what you get for sleeping so late.” Cassandra was haughty, acting the wise older sister.

Daphne turned her dagger eyes to her older sister. “No one asked you, Cassie.”

“All right,” Vivienne cut in, “that’s enough.”

“But, Mother,” both girls chimed in together, then each headed off into their own arguments, hoping to sway their mother. Before long, everyone was talking with raised voices and no one was listening.

Olivia leaned back in her chair, her back pressing into the silk upholstery, wishing she was anywhere but there. The room burst into a chaos of harsh words and tears, and more than one tongue was stuck out at a sister.

She sought out Dalton’s gaze again. They were the only two people in the room who weren’t speaking, or yelling or gesturing wildly. He tilted his head towards the doorway and raised his eyebrows in invitation. Olivia looked around her at the near riot and then looked guiltily at the door. These women were generously giving of their time and energy to save her hide, and she shouldn’t run out on them.

She bit her bottom lip and met Dalton’s gaze again. He mouthed the words,
Come with me.
That ended the debate. As unobtrusively as possible, she rose from her seat and inched away from the others towards the door. Dalton grasped her hand and snuck them both out undetected.

“Run away with me.” He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the back as he led her briskly away, putting as much space between them and the parlor before anyone could notice they were missing.