Lady Olivia's Undoing (3 page)

Reginald accused Olivia of dallying with
Fuzzy’s affections for his wealth, title, and position in Society.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Olivia’s uncle, the
Duke of Marlborough, convinced her father to push her into the
marriage. On the day of their nuptials, Fitzhugh Leighton was
two-and-sixty. She, twenty.

Unfortunately, right before she married
Fuzzy, Reginald caught her in another man’s embrace – Henry Wade.
And even though Reginald had never said a word about the encounter,
Olivia felt as though he held that as a sordid secret between
them.

However, Olivia was no fool. As much as she
had loved Henry back then, she had to abide by her family’s wishes,
and Henry Wade, the second son of the Marquess of Dunbury, was
certainly no match for a Churchill lady. Though her parents had
reservations about the age difference between Fuzzy and her, they
would definitely not welcome a match between Olivia and Henry.
Fitzhugh Leighton was a powerful duke, kept company with the King,
and cousin to the Duke of Devonshire. Henry had nothing.

Olivia stared at the letter in her hand. She
could tolerate Constance and the girls through the holidays, but
she
dreaded
to think of Reginald in her house – creeping
about.

Olivia shuddered. She would dispense with
Reginald when the time came. The most urgent matter consuming her
belonged to the state of her house. Her former butler Summers could
not be expected to wait on two families. The man was eighty years
old. Olivia rose from the chair and pulled the bell. A footman
opened the door.

“Your Grace,” he said.

“Andrew, good, I’m glad ‘tis you. I need to
speak with you.” Olivia walked to the windows that overlooked the
gardens. “As you may have been informed, Quiggins must away for a
time and Summers is coming out of retirement. However, my cousin
and her family will be arriving to stay through Twelfth Night. I am
giving you full charge of their every care. I will speak to
Quiggins, and once he is away, Summers will be your immediate
supervisor.”

Andrew nodded his head. “Yes, Your
Grace.”

“For five shillings more a month.”

Andrew smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Andrew. You may go.” When he was
at the door, Olivia said, “Do tell Quiggins to step inside.” There
were so many things to do. John could not leave her. How was she to
run her house? Undercover operative or not, John was an excellent
butler.

John stepped inside the room. “Your
Grace?”

Olivia hated that tone. He was angry with
her. Well, she was angry with him for leaving her, leaving her with
houseguests and company through Christmastide and not a decent
butler in residence. How was she to manage?

“Quiggins, I worry about the state of the
manor once you’re gone to Spain. My cousin Constance and her family
are arriving, and Summers is hardly capable of caring for such a
large gathering, and although I have every faith Andrew will make a
fine under-butler, he is still green. I thought to see if we could
hire one on for a few months. And if not, through Twelfth Night,
although, having one through January would be a blessing. What do
you think? Could you enquire if there is a family of good standing
away for the holiday and would like to furnish Caymore with a
butler?”

John nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace. Will
there be anything else?”

“Do not forget to inform the mews of
William’s…”

“They have already been informed, Your
Grace.”

“And the rooms. Fires need to be laid…”

“That has already been taken care of, Your
Grace.”

“Well, Cook needs…”

“I have already spoken to Cook. Upstairs is
three, possibly five with the inclusion of Lord and Lady Olmstead.
Downstairs is four-and-ten.”

Olivia held out her hand to John in a moment
of weakness. “What shall I say to Penny?” Under any other
circumstances, she would never dare show affection to John,
especially as a footman or parlour maid could walk in on them. But
Olivia needed his strength. “I cannot imagine what she must be
feeling. How am I to comfort her?”

John took two steps into the room, but
maintained his distance. “You will sit with her when she cries. You
will listen to her ranting and hysteria. You will dry her eyes and
hold her when she needs it.” John took another step forward. “Love
her as you always have done.”

“Yes, of course.” She gazed into his eyes. “I
cannot bear it though. Penny looked so forward to being a mother.
With Amanda and Richard’s baby a girl, Penny dreamed they would
grow up together and perhaps marry someday.” Olivia smiled through
her tears. “A young girl’s first wish for her child. Silly, I know,
but I cannot help feeling sad about it as well. My own wish has
died.” Olivia put her fingers to her eyes.

John handed her his handkerchief. “Penny has
been through a lot this past year. Who is to say the shock of her
kidnapping did not have lasting ramifications? Or that William’s
injuries from the war did not affect his seed in some manner? We
cannot ever know why the baby died, but we must go on. We must,
otherwise we will succumb to certain madness. It will be your job,
Livvy to keep Penny from losing her will to endure.”

“Yes, I know that. I just do not know if I
will be able.” She handed him the damp handkerchief. How could she
comfort Penny never having known what it was like to have a child
growing inside of her?

He took her fingers and brought them to his
lips. “You will. You have the strength of ten men, my darling.” He
took a step back. “I shall leave you now. I believe I may know of a
butler we may hire.” He paused. “What are you about?”

Olivia was always grateful their spats never
lasted long. “I sent a footman with a note to Carlton House. I must
inform the Prince about the baby and thought to do so in person. He
will keep the Patent Committee from hounding my doorstep.”

“Very well. I will try and return before
William and Penny arrive.” Quiggins left the room. Olivia watched
the door latch click into place.

She had explained the gravity of the
situation over the title to Quiggins several months before,
although not about Fuzzy’s bastard son. She did not want that to
change John’s view of her. And it might. How could she be involved
with so much charity for orphans, but not raise her husband’s son?
It was unthinkable. Her dear Fuzzy had never even met his own flesh
and blood, and that was because of Olivia’s selfishness and
jealousy. She had wanted
her
son to gain the title.
Her
son to have every luxury. But she had not been able to
conceive. What would John think of her if he found she had kept a
father from his only child?

Olivia gazed at the portrait of Fitzhugh
Leighton hanging above the fireplace. “I’m so sorry, Fuzzy,” she
whispered. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Olivia paced in the yellow salon. The clock
chimed half past eleven. A knock on the door and then a footman
appeared with a salver and three envelopes. Olivia walked over and
picked them up. Foreign Secretary Richard Wellesley, Prince George,
and Henry Wade, Marquess of Dunbury.

“His Highness awaits a reply,” the footman
said.

“Thank you,” she said to the footman and
walked to the
escritoire
. She broke the wax on the envelope
from the Prince.

Dearest Lady Olivia, how lovely to receive
your note. I am away to Brighton this afternoon, but would welcome
your company any time this morning. Ever Yours, G ~

Olivia looked at the footman. “Tell His
Highness to expect me directly.”

The footman left the room. Olivia broke the
wax on Richard Wellesley’s letter.

Dear Lady Caymore. I would be delighted to
meet with you, at your convenience. However, my schedule is full
until half-past four o’clock this afternoon. Perhaps tomorrow
morning would be acceptable. Wellesley.

Olivia slid her finger under the wax on
Henry’s note.

I am ever at your disposal.

Olivia smiled. She tucked both envelopes into
her reticule. She would reply after she met with the Prince.

In the carriage, on the way to Carlton House,
Olivia rubbed her hands together. The day was cold and grey and
looked as if it might snow. She gazed out at the street as the
carriage slowed. Olivia caught sight of a man standing in front of
the Bainbridge Hotel. She drew a sharp intake of breath. As the
carriage clopped forward, she turned in her seat and stared at a
man who bore a striking resemblance to a miniature portrait she
kept in the salon. A picture of a much younger Fitzhugh Leighton.
Olivia watched as long as she could and then sat back against the
seat.

She could only imagine it was all this sad
news about Penny’s baby that brought Fuzzy’s likeness to surface.
The heartbreak of not having any children of her own, Fuzzy’s
indiscretion, and the baby’s death all formed a vicious irony that
now led her to hallucinate. She rubbed a chill. Was this Fuzzy’s
way of speaking to her from the grave? What was he trying to tell
her? Was this apparition a reminder that her future remained
uncertain? Olivia shrugged into her coat and pushed the thought of
Fitzhugh aside.

The carriage stopped and then shifted as the
footmen descended. One opened the door, as the other set the step
and then held out his hand to assist her from the equipage. Olivia
stood in front of Carlton House. She took a breath and marched up
the steps. The door opened silently and a liveried footman led her
inside the grand entryway. A Privy Guard stepped up to her.

“Lady Caymore, welcome to Carlton House.” He
bowed. “His Highness is waiting.”

Olivia nodded and followed the man to a
private room. He opened the door and nodded. Olivia stepped into
the room, where a young man sat behind a desk. He stood up.

“Lady Caymore, please have a seat. I will
inform His Highness you are arrived.”

From behind the closed door, Olivia heard a
man yelling. She asked the footman, “Tell me, is he in a foul humor
today?”

The secretary looked surprised. “He was not.”
He tapped on the door and opened it. “Lady Caymore is here, Your
Highness.”

“Dear Lady Olivia, do send her in,” the
Prince said.

Olivia reached the door, steeled herself, and
then strode into the room, a pasted smile on her face. “Your
Highness.” Olivia sank into a graceful curtsy. She looked up as she
rose and Prince George stood near the window.

He turned. “Lady Olivia, to what do I owe
this great pleasure?” George presented her a courtly bow.

“I’m afraid I have some dreadful news, Your
Grace.” Olivia took a deep breath. “Penny has lost the child.”

George took a step toward her. “Oh, my dear,
no. When? How?”

Olivia walked toward the Prince. “Six weeks,
I have been informed. The baby was stillborn.”

George nodded. “Olivia, I am so terribly
sorry. Please do pass along my deepest condolences to William and
Lady Penelope. It is a tragedy.” He shook his head. “But they are
young, and in love. They will bounce back from this misfortune and
prevail.” George smiled.

“Your Grace.” Olivia took another step toward
the Prince. “There is a certain issue of delicacy surrounding the
child…”

“Ah, yes, the title.” He stared hard at
Olivia. “I see the fear of losing of it consumes you. Is that all
you can think of during Will and Penny’s time of heartbreak?” he
asked, disgust lacing the edges of his words.

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek to keep
from screaming. “Of course not, Your Highness. I am overcome with
grief for my niece and her husband. However, I know that the Prime
Minister is eager to recover the Caymore wealth for his fight
against Bonaparte. I have no desire for that to interfere with
Penny’s convalescence. She has just lost her child. I would hate
for her and William to lose everything else as well.”

The Prince shot her a sidelong glance.
“Forgive me, Olivia. Of course, you are only thinking of your
niece.” He sighed. “Very well. I will keep the Prime Minister and
his committee at bay.”

Olivia listened to George rant about the
state of the British government for a quarter-hour before she
politely said, “I am so sorry to have kept you, Your Highness. I
know you must be wishing to arrive in Brighton ahead of the
weather. Thank you so much for your kindness. I will pass along
your regards to William and Penny.” She bobbed a short curtsey and
retreated from the room.

A footman escorted her to the carriage.
Olivia settled herself on the seat as the footman set the step and
closed the door. Perhaps it would be a comfort to Penny if had use
of her old bedroom. After Penny and Will married, Olivia had given
them a set of rooms in the west wing. One of the rooms was the…
nursery
.

“We must return home immediately,” Olivia
shouted to the footman. “Tell Hendricks. As quickly as we can.” She
had to find another set of rooms for Penny and William. What would
looking at the empty baby’s room do to Penny’s fragile state?

Olivia braced herself against the interior as
the carriage wove in and out of traffic on the busy London streets.
Who could guess that Mayfair could be so busy at noon on a Tuesday?
However, it only seemed a few short minutes before Hendricks, her
coachman, pulled the horses to a stop in front of Caymore House.
Olivia waited impatiently for the footman to set the step, leaped
out, and ran to the front door. John opened it before she could
place her hand on the handle.

“Oh good, you’re home,” she said, as she
rushed in. She fussed with the buttons on her gloves. “We must do
something about the nursery before they arrive.”

“It is too late,” he said. “They are arrived.
In the salon.”

Olivia looked at John. He shook his head.