Lady Olivia's Undoing (7 page)

“No, Olivia,” Constance said. “Nothing of the
sort. Reginald seems to be involved in some kind of intrigue. I
cannot tell you what or whom it involves. Since arriving in
England, he is nearly giddy with anticipation, happily waiting for
the day when he is triumphant in his resolution. I have never seen
him so… cocksure of himself. As if he cannot lose.”

Olivia was curious. For years, she had tried
to find something against Reginald, but for all his lack of
character in her quarter, he was a decent and some would say,
kind-hearted man. Reginald Leighton, Fitzhugh’s nephew, now the
current Duke of Hargrove, sat on several boards to charities, most
pertaining to the Army widows and orphans. He was a member of
White’s, although had a few Tory friends, but was on all accounts,
considered a conservative.

Reginald doted on his wife and daughters,
with never a hint of scandal spoken of him. Olivia couldn’t decide
if he was as boring as he appeared, or a wolf in sheep’s
clothing.

Throughout the years, Constance had never
once complained about her husband. He seemed to be a very loving
spouse and father. And however reluctant she felt, Olivia did have
to give Reginald credit for taking Constance as his wife. She was a
true Churchill, stubborn to a fault and did not suffer fool’s
gladly for all her maladies, quaking nerves, and personal drama.
Constance was also one of only a very few whom Olivia considered a
true friend. And because of that, Olivia had never spoken a bad
word about Reginald to anyone.

“What kind of intrigue?” Olivia asked. “A
scheme? For money? For political gain? What do you think it could
be?” What indeed?

“I can hardly tell you.” Constance took a sip
of her tea. “And there is really nothing to explain it. I have no
evidence, no proof. It is only a wife’s instinct.”

Olivia smiled. “And sometimes that is all the
proof we need.” She took another bite of cake. “Shall you attend
Winsbarren’s with me?”

Constance rolled her eyes. “Oh, Livvy. Could
we not rest for a few days before we make the circuit? I am so
travel-weary. When we arrived in Cornwall, the house was full of
the lesser Leighton’s. Truthfully, I think that is why Reginald
insisted we leave.”

“Come with me to the ball. If only for a few
hours.” Olivia asked. “I must go. They are particular friends of
mine.”

“And how does John feel about you traipsing
all over Town without him?” Constance had been made aware of the
circumstances surrounding John, by the barrage of letters from
Olivia while Constance and her family visited America.

“John understands it is part of who I am,”
Olivia said sadly.

Constance leaned over and patted Olivia’s
hand. “What is it?”

“I am weary of playing upstairs, downstairs.
I feel like I am sneaking around on poor Fuzzy even though he has
been dead a decade. John refuses to marry me, says we would become
a laughingstock, that he would tarnish my reputation.” Olivia did
not wish to think so and remained steadfast in her belief that he
would be accepted into Society, but seeing Henry again brought up
the demands of being bound to her title. Would she rather marry for
love or money?

“That is true, dearest. The great Olivia
Leighton… married to a butler. That would just be
too
outré.” Constance rubbed her fingers on the furrows in her
forehead.

“John is
not
a butler. He holds the
rank of Colonel in His Majesty’s Army.” Olivia did not sound as
convincing as she once had. Even to herself.

Constance took a sip of tea. “Perhaps if he
were Pitt, or Grenville, with a family name, he could rise above
his station, but who are John’s people? Humble missionaries. He has
no connections. He has nothing but his reputation as a
soldier.”

Olivia pushed back her chair. She had thought
about that as well. “Yes. And that is something I can say for few
men of my acquaintance. John Quiggins is the very best of men and
has done nothing to be ashamed of.” At least that was true.

“Olivia, please, I did not mean to start a
quarrel. I agree with you. However, there
is
something
sordid about sleeping with a man you are not, at least,
engaged
to. Goodness me, you cannot even share dinner
together. Honestly, Olivia, what
will
people think?”

“There is more.” Olivia cut a slice of cake
and placed it on a small plate.

“More? How can there be
any
more? Is
that not enough?” Constance took the cake and began to eat it.

Olivia cut another slice. “John is to go to
Spain on some kind of diplomatic mission.”

Constance choked and reached for her tea.
“What?”

“John told me not two days ago. I spoke to
Richard Wellesley, the Foreign Secretary. He claims once he
finishes their mission they will be extricated and brought back to
England post haste.” Olivia stabbed her fork into the cake, pulled
off a large chunk, and stuffed it into her mouth.

“Well, that does not sound so serious.”
Constance took a delicate bite.

“What if he does not return? I am helplessly
in love with him.” Olivia threw her fork across her plate, the cake
half-eaten, and pushed it away. Tears pricked the corner of her
eyes. “Oh, Constance, my heart wants John. However, in my head I
know I can never be free of Society’s chains. I am sick of living
this charade all for the sake of upholding someone’s ancestry. I
just want someone to love who loves me, and not have to worry about
my family name, Fuzzy’s title, or who I shall become next. Can you
understand?”

“Of course, dearest.” Constance took Olivia’s
hand. “That is what we all want.”

After a leisurely lunch, Constance went
upstairs to her bedchamber for a lie-down and the girls asked for
the small carriage to take them for a drive to Piccadilly. Olivia
sat in her room in the chair by the window. She liked to look out
over the tree tops. John’s footsteps sounded outside the wall.

He stepped into the room. “I am staying in
the room closest to the attic if you would like to visit after your
return.”

“Good heavens, why? Secure yourself another
room, on the third floor. Surely, this mausoleum has enough
bedrooms to support everyone comfortably.”

“And how will you explain your presence on
the other side of the house?” John asked.

Olivia shook her head. “I do not understand
why you are being so tedious about your room situation. You will
sleep with me as you always have.”

John shot her a look. “I do not think the
Duke of Hargrave would approve of me bedding his late uncle’s wife.
I shan’t take the chance he could catch us. He does not seem a
particularly jovial fellow and I would hate to see what he would do
to your reputation.”

“Yes, I know. Constance tells me he is up to
something, some plot, or intrigue. She cannot imagine what it is.
However, I believe you may be right. Perhaps we should be extra
vigilant in our care.” She walked over to John and wrapped her arms
around his waist. “The hell with the Duke of Hargrave. He will not
dictate where I sleep in my own house. Or with whom.” She kissed
John on the mouth. “Now come to bed. I wish to make love to you. It
will be the only chance we have until tomorrow.” She kissed him
again. “As you must train the new butler. And Summers is arrived. I
do believe he will need the first floor bedroom.” Olivia led John
to her bed and then untied his cravat. “And you are leaving in two
days. I wish to hold you as much as I can.” She kissed him once
more. “I do love you John Quiggins.”

“I love you, Livvy,” John said.

Olivia pulled him onto the bed.

Reginald had insisted on taking the Hargrave
carriage as well as Olivia’s to the ball, although the Caymore
barouche was more than comfortable enough to hold everyone. Olivia
pursed her lips as they put on their coats in the front parlor.

Constance pulled Olivia aside. “Reginald
keeps his carriage in case Ariana’s leg pains her she would be able
to return here quickly. He is not such a monster as you make him
out to be.”

Arabella traveled with Olivia and Olivia
marveled at how much the girl reminded her of herself at that age.
Bella glimmered with excitement over returning to London Society.
She missed her friends and wanted to tell them of all her
adventures, especially Stephen.

Before Olivia could ask about the mysterious
fiancé, the carriage pulled up to Brumbley Hall. They waited for
the others before exiting the carriage and they all went in
together.

Leaving coats with a footman, Olivia and
Bella entered the grand Brumbley Hall. Jack Trent, Viscount
Winsbarren, and his father, the Earl of Brumbley met them at the
entrance to the Great Room.

Olivia kissed Old Brumbley’s cheek and asked
after his health.

“It is better now for seeing you, my dear.”
He patted her hand. “Go in and enjoy yourself. I shall seek you out
later for a quiet chat.”

Olivia nodded to Winsbarren. “Where is
Rowena?”

“Overseeing the disaster in the kitchen. She
shall be out presently. I will send her to find you.”

As Constance introduced the girls, Olivia
looked out across the crowded room. The steps to the hall gave her
a great advantage. She spotted her cousin Mary.

Olivia turned to Constance. “There is Mary. I
must dash and say hello as I completely ignored her at the family
dinner the other evening.” She pointed to the other side of the
hall. “There, in the corner. That is where I would like to sit.”
Overlooking the ballroom so she had the advantage of seeing before
being seen. “I shall return in a trice.”

Olivia did not wait for Constance’s
acknowledgement and headed down the steps toward Mary. She finally
caught up to her by the third colonnade.

“Mary, how do you do?”

Mary narrowed her gaze. “Olivia. A little
late to be offering salutations is it not?”

“Mary, forgive me. I did not mean to overlook
you the other night. I have not seen Bunny in several years.
Surely, you remember how close we are.”

“Yes, but you did not leave much time for me
to spend with her. She left after only a quarter hour. How could
you, Livvy?”

“You will be pleased to know Bunny and Rupert
are staying in Town through Christmastide and I have invited her
for luncheon Thursday next. Constance and the girls are arrived and
now as it is all of us, I will send you an invitation as well. And
you may visit as long as you like.”

Mary smiled. “Very well, then. I forgive
you.”

“Tell me, Mary,” Olivia asked. “Where is
Catherine? I had lunch with Joanna the other day and she related
Catherine was very ill and removed from Dunbury Manor. Is she all
right?” Olivia moved her cousin over to the dark side of the garden
stairs.

“Catherine is not ill,” Mary whispered. “She
is angry at Henry. They quarreled. She says she has left his
employ.”

The last time Olivia had seen them together,
they were dancing at the Berringbourne’s summer party, and very
happy. If Catherine gave Henry up willingly, there was something
drastically wrong with her – Henry had everything a woman could
ever want.

“Where is she?” Olivia asked. Catherine had
lived at Dunbury Manor for the last seven years as the girls’
governess. Where would she go?

“Staying at the family house in Tunbridge
Wells,” Mary said. “She refuses to come to London. Catherine states
she does not wish to meet Henry in Society.”

Curious, Olivia asked, “How long has she been
there?”

“Several weeks, I think. Since Guy Fawke’s
Day.”

Olivia nodded. Nearly two months. They must
have done more than quarrel for Catherine to stay away from Henry.
She pushed the thought aside. “Do come over and say hello to
Constance.” Olivia took Mary’s arm and steered her toward Constance
and the girls. Penny stood with Ariana and Bella.

“Look who I found.” Olivia propped Mary in
front of Constance and walked toward Penny. “Hello, dearest,” she
said.

Penny looked through her as if she were an
apparition. “Hello, Aunt. How do you do?”

“I could ask the same of you.” Olivia had
never received such a cold greeting from Penny before. “Is your
mother here?”

Penny smiled. “I have no idea. Perhaps you
could check the register.” She turned her back and spoke to
Ariana.

Olivia stood stunned. Penny had just given
her the cut direct. In a ballroom full of people. Olivia turned
toward Constance seeking solace, but Reginald lingered at her side.
How could Penny treat her this way? What had she done to deserve
such derision? Olivia couldn’t stay there another second. She
glanced at the steps leading out of the Great Room.

Henry Wade, Marquess of Dunbury stood at the
top with three of his nieces. Olivia raced through the crowd.

A decade earlier, Henry had been fighting in
India when his father died and his brother gained the title.
Unfortunately, his brother died two years later, but Henry remained
in India. A few years after that, word came of his second eldest
sister being lost at sea with her husband on a trip from the West
Indies. It was not until his eldest sister Esme’s death three years
ago, that Henry came home from the fighting.

Henry inherited six nieces, along with the
Marquisate, two manor houses, and a town home in London. The girls
lived at Dunbury Manor on the western edge of Town – Kensington
Palace, their closest neighbor.

“Hello, ladies.” Olivia greeted each of the
three girls in turn and then looked at Henry. “Hello, my lord.” He
would make all the hurt Penny inflicted disappear.

Henry brought her fingers to his lips. “Good
evening, Olivia. You look magnificent tonight.” He brought her hand
to his arm. “Ladies,” he said to his nieces. “I bid you a fine
evening.” He led Olivia down the three steps to the main floor.