Lady Farquhar's Butterfly (11 page)

Aunt Catherine
took an appreciative sip of her aperitif. Entertaining was a rare
treat. ‘It must have been a shock to have been given the wardship
of your nephew though it’s apparent you’ve done a commendable job
looking after him.’ Grey ringlets bobbing, she beamed at him.

All eyes
turned to Olivia at the sound of her stifled sob. Aunt Catherine
gasped an apology. Aunt Eunice sounded glacial. ‘As you can
imagine, it is a sore point with Olivia that her late husband
publicly proclaimed her unfit to take charge of her son.’ She
stared down her autocratic nose at their visitor who sat in the
best chair by the piano, facing the ladies. ‘A child requires a
mother’s love above all else.’

‘I appreciate
that.’ Max spoke softly, his eyes roving over Olivia, his mouth a
thin line. ‘And I can see Julian is in good hands. I would be the
last to deny the boy has a very’ – the tiny pause was not lost on
Olivia – ‘loving mother.’

There was a
knock at the door. Olivia froze in the midst of having her hair
brushed in preparation for dinner. She clenched her fists in her
lap as the door was thrust open.

‘Young lady, I
think you’ve some explaining to do!’

Instead of
Max, who had every reason to make such a demand, though his
presence in such a manner would have been extraordinary, a
glowering Aunt Eunice swept into the room.

‘That’ll be
all, thank you, Dorcas.’ Olivia nodded dismissal at the maid and
waited until the door was closed before she said, defensively, ‘You
sent me on a mission to reclaim my son. I carried it out
successfully.’

‘This man,
Lucien’s cousin, Julian’s guardian—’ Aunt Eunice shook her head
before continuing, ‘You led me to believe Max was as unsatisfactory
as Lucien and you were only too glad to get away. My eyes tell a
different story.’

Olivia turned
back to the looking glass, her voice dull. ‘I can’t imagine what
you mean, Aunt Eunice.’ She looked stonily at her reflection,
unwilling to meet her aunt’s eyes. Dorcas had just arranged her
hair with a tumble of golden curls threaded through with pearls on
either side of a centre parting. Her gown of gold and cream satin
set off her skin to perfection and around her neck the little key
that Lucien had given her on his deathbed nestled in the hollow
between her breasts.

‘Don’t tell me
you’ve gone to such pains with your appearance on Mr Kirkman’s
account?’ Aunt Eunice ground out. ‘The way you’ve rigged yourself
up you’ll have the two of them engaged in fisticuffs at the
dining-room table.’

Olivia turned,
indignant. ‘Miss Latimer delivered my new dress this afternoon. I
had no idea Max would be accompanying Julian.’

‘Just as Max
had no idea that the woman who clearly turned his life upside down
and with whom he is undoubtedly in love, was Julian’s mother. Ah,
Olivia, it was ill done of you.’ An uncharacteristically sorrowful
look replaced Aunt Eunice’s anger as she rested her hands on
Olivia’s shoulders. She shook her head, slowly. ‘Have you learned
nothing since you married Lucien? Not even to trust your
instincts?’

Olivia swung
round on her stool. ‘You think I’d trust Max with my heart? Max is
Lucien’s cousin. He looks like Lucien; he
glowers
like
Lucien. Surely you saw the way he looked at me. No doubt he has a
temper every bit as evil as Lucien’s. You
hated
Lucien! Yet
you would have me wed his cousin in preference to the eminently
suitable, wellregarded, upright and pious Mr Kirkman?’

‘There are
many men I’d rather you wed in preference to Mr Kirkman, though
your Aunt Catherine begs to differ.’

The dinner
gong sounded and Olivia leapt to her feet. ‘Nathaniel can’t abide
unpunctuality,’ she said, desperate to escape her aunt’s scrutiny.
The last thing she needed was Aunt Eunice pressing her to accept
Max’s suit over Nathaniel’s.

At the
dining-room door she nearly collided with Max. Bowing, unsmiling,
he offered her his arm.

Olivia met his
assessing gaze with a distinct lack of composure before turning
towards the table where Aunt Eunice was seating herself beside her
sister.

Max helped her
to her chair. ‘You’re even lovelier than I remembered, Olivia.’ He
spoke softly. ‘The last month has been a long one.’ Miserably she
bent her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. And the gentle
reproach.

‘I hope
Nathaniel deserves you.’

Raising her
eyes to his she could discern no malice, nor did his tone or
expression hint at sarcasm. ‘Max, I’m sorry—’

‘Ah, Mr
Atherton, Olivia, good evening. My love, you are a vision.

Isn’t she a
vision?’ Mr Kirkman, seating himself beside Olivia, looked smugly
at Max who proceeded to his chair opposite.

Olivia turned
her head away from Nathaniel’s possessive smile, uncomfortably
conscious of his thigh within a hair’s breadth of her own. The way
he fussed over her comfort seemed calculated to emphasize to Max
his exclusive ownership.

‘I expect, Mr
Atherton – I mean Max,’ she amended, with a contrived blush, ‘will
be off early in the morning if you’ve more than three hours’ riding
ahead of you. Shall you break your journey in Bath?’

‘You could, of
course, extend your visit.’ Aunt Eunice gave Max an expansive
smile. ‘Nathaniel must attend to business tomorrow. You could help
Julian settle in. Isn’t that a good idea, Reverend?’

The reverend’s
nod accompanied a weak smile, as Aunt Eunice went on in answer to
Max’s appearance of consideration, ‘Excellent. Well, there’s no
need to remain at the inn when there’s plenty of spare room,
here.’

‘That is, if
Olivia has no objection to my presence under her roof. I would hate
to distress her if I remind her so much of her late husband.’

‘Only when you
glower, Mr Atherton.’ Olivia smiled sweetly, looking up from her
plate.

Max raised his
eyebrows. ‘Good! In that case any likeness will hardly be remarked
upon as I’m renowned for my good temper.’

Aunt Catherine
gave a little sigh of happiness as her glass was refilled. ‘What a
wonderful state of affairs. Julian shall doubly benefit from the
tender care of a doting uncle in his earliest years, and the wise
instruction of his new stepfather as he grows to be a man.’

Max cleared
his throat. ‘I trust I might continue to see Julian often in the
future.’

‘Of
course—’

Olivia’s
prompt agreement was interrupted by Nathaniel. ‘Forgive me, Mr
Atherton, but I believe it to be in the boy’s best interests if
there is no contact for some months.’ He gave one of his lengthy,
considering looks with which Olivia was so familiar, adding,
‘Julian needs to settle in to his new life.’ He turned at Olivia’s
stifled protest and patted her arm. ‘I want only what is best for
the boy, my love. If you can persuade me otherwise, I’ll happily
accede.’

Olivia
refrained from any rejoinder as she acknowledged the devastating
effect of Nathaniel’s words. Max’s affection for Julian was plain
and although it would be best that Olivia not see Max again once
she was married, she had promised Max continued access to the
boy.

She was
relieved when dinner was finally at an end.

She woke late
after a fitful night. Her eyes felt gritty and her head buzzed with
fatigue. Attending to her appearance, she wished she looked the
picture of radiance Max had thought her last night, even though she
knew it was a shameful wish. Running quickly up the stairs to the
nursery, her heart contracted when she discovered the room empty.
She hurried along the corridors and into the garden calling for
Julian.

Perhaps Max,
unable to contain his anger at her deception, had kidnapped him. If
he had changed his mind about relinquishing Julian he certainly had
enough ammunition to bolster the case against her.

Footsteps in
the snow leading through the park gates only increased her fear,
but just as she’d convinced herself Max had indeed made off with
her son she heard voices.

Advancing
slowly, as quietly as she could, she listened.

‘Your mother
loves you very much and she
is
your mother so it’s her turn
to look after you.’ Max spoke softly. As Olivia could hear nothing
from Julian she imagined Max was succeeding in soothing the lad.
Raw grief rose up in her breast as she waited on the other side of
the holly bush for the right time to announce her presence.

‘Not every boy
is lucky enough to have such a beautiful and kind mother, Julian.
Do you know how many little boys would long to have a mother like
yours?’

She heard a
little hiccupping sob and was hard pressed not to add her own.
Max’s bond with Julian was so much stronger than her own. She
understood how hard it would be for her son. For both of them.
Never had she felt so wretched though she consoled herself it was
further proof Max would be better off without her. It was one thing
to make men fall in love with her; quite another to live up to
their expectations. Lucien had called her his little cream puff:
delectable to look at, he’d said, but without substance.

‘And your new
stepfather is a very upright and important fellow. At least in
these parts,’ Olivia heard him add in a none-too-flattering
undertone. ‘A reverend, no less! A very lucky reverend, young
Julian, for he has got himself the most beautiful wife in all
England. I daresay your Uncle Max is just an idle wastrel in
comparison.’

‘What
nonsense!’ Olivia brushed past the bush and frowned at Max.

‘I suspect you
wanted me to hear that so I would feel obliged to contradict
you.’

Max rose,
setting Julian down at his feet. Stooping to put a hand on the
boy’s shoulder he suggested with wheedling enthusiasm, ‘Why don’t
you collect us some pine cones? Your mother and I have some things
we need to say to one another.’

‘What a good
idea, my darling boy.’ Olivia smiled at Julian, trying not to take
his sullen rejection too much to heart as she put out her hand to
stroke his curls before he ran off. With difficulty she said, ‘What
do you think needs to be said that hasn’t been said already?’ She
wanted to channel her confusion into anger, but the way he was
looking at her, his eyes smiling, a curl to his lip that was more
gently challenging than malicious, threw her completely. ‘I’ve said
I’m sorry. I’ve admitted I used you shamelessly to get to Julian
and I deeply regret what happened.’

Max took a
step forward, his smile broadening. With a quick glance at the
disappearing Julian, he tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

‘What,
exactly, do you regret? Falling in love?’ He touched her cheek with
his forefinger, trailing it slowly down to her collarbone.

Heat rose in
her cheeks and her bosom heaved as she strained in a breath. His
touch curdled her insides. Damning her susceptibility she said on a
shaky breath, ‘Lucien made no bones about my deplorable character.’
She focused her gaze upon his gently curving mouth, wishing more
than she’d ever done to feel the touch of his lips upon hers once
more as she whispered, ‘He would have said wicked, carnal
attraction was between us, nothing more.’

Max chuckled.
‘I’m more interested in what
you
would have called it,
though I have my answer just by the way you are looking at me.’ He
cupped her face and brought his own closer. ‘You are afraid to risk
your heart a second time, Olivia, but I am not Lucien,’ he
whispered.

‘Lucien was a
jealous madman who did not appreciate the greatest gift he was ever
given. You! For I see little evidence of the character flaws Lucien
elaborated upon.’

‘You’d
discover them in good time.’ Olivia sagged against Max’s steadying
arm. Covering her eyes with her hands, she fought tears. ‘He lived
with me for seven years—’

‘And destroyed
your self worth. Olivia …’ Max wrapped his arms gently about her
shoulders and stroked her hair. The gentle drone of his voice was
catharsis, blocking out the awful reality to which she’d soon
return.

‘I barely
slept last night,’ he murmured. ‘I thought of all I knew about
Lucien. He took my initiation into his hands, you see, introducing
me to his favourite gaming hells and other dens of vice. I was six
years younger and, at eighteen, a willing disciple, though the
novelty quickly wore off.’ He paused. ‘A year before, Lucien had
seemed kinder. I suppose because he was in love.’ He drew out the
pause, adding, ‘But something happened. He became the tyrant his
father was. I heard he’d made a pact with the Devil; that he
believed there was a fortune stored beneath the floorboards. He was
insane, I understand that, just as I understand, better than you
think, what your marriage must have been like. Lucien respected no
one. I can imagine how he treated you.’

Closing her
eyes against the intensity of his look, she swayed. She felt
dangerously exposed, afraid of revealing more than she could
afford.

When he broke
the silence his words carried an edge of frustration.

‘You say you
owe The Reverend Kirkman your hand in marriage. Can you really do
that, Olivia, when you know it means sacrificing your life’s
happiness?’

When still she
did not speak, could not, he went on, ‘My guess is that Lucien made
you feel so worthless you don’t believe you deserve happiness.’

She flinched,
forcing herself to meet his eye. ‘I am no better than Lucien
painted me,’ she said, weakly. ‘When you discovered the truth you’d
hate me.’

With a grunt
of irritation he shook her gently. ‘You are no longer a wilful
debutante or an innocent pushed reluctantly into marriage, Olivia,’
he said. ‘You are a grown woman with experience of the world and a
will of your own.’

Silence
stretched between them. When he spoke again, his voice was steady,
matter-of fact. ‘You delight me, Olivia.’ He smiled as if he truly
thought her the most exquisite thing he’d laid eyes upon. ‘Every
moment I am with you fills me with pleasure. We can make a
wonderful future together – you, me and Julian.’ He waited, his
smile refusing to fade as the silence grew.