Surrender to a Wicked Spy (8 page)

"No, milady," a voice came from behind her. "I'm Petty."

Olivia turned to see Petty—again—in the doorway to her dressing area. "Oh." She turned back to see Letty concealing a smirk.

"Mrs. Huff presented us to you yesterday, milady."

Mrs. Huff had rattled off the names of a line of servants that could have gone round Cheltenham's front drive at breathtaking speed. Apparently, Olivia was now expected to remember them all.

Oops.

"Well, yes, of course she did. How very nice to see you again, Letty."

"Letty's the chambermaid, milady," Petty pointed out.

Hence the tending of bed linens. Olivia should have noticed. Things at Cheltenham were a bit more loosely organized. The elderly remaining servants did what they were capable of and hired out the rest to the work-hungry village.

"But you must be related, then." She was positive on that point. She might be confused, but she wasn't blind.

"Sisters, milady," Letty volunteered, then hushed abruptly.

Olivia turned to catch an admonishing glare retreating from Petty's expression. Petty must be the elder. That made sense, for a lady's maid ranked higher than a chambermaid in any house. Olivia made determined note of it all. She would be the viscountess that Dane wanted. All she needed to do was keep her eyes and ears open.

For the first time, she noticed the gown that Petty held. It was the second-best evening gown from Olivia's hurried trousseau, a gray satin that matched her eyes. "Is there a problem with my dress?" She rather hoped there was. She didn't much care for the gown, thinking it dull and severe, but Mother had chosen the fabric and cut.

Petty stiffened. "Of course not, milady!" Olivia hid a sigh. The girl was determined to take everything wrongly.

Petty went on. "It will be ready for tonight."

"Tonight?" The only plans Olivia had for tonight were to obey Dane's command and await him in the altogether. Her skin heated at the thought and her mind spun off into imagining all the various and sundry things that might ensue… "… Cheltenham, my lady." Olivia's attention snapped back to Petty. "What?" Petty's lack of expression spoke volumes. "This evening you are to dine with Lord and Lady Cheltenham, my lady." She enunciated slowly, as if to an idiot. It was just this side of insulting, but Olivia scarcely cared.

They were having dinner with her parents? Dane had said nothing of the kind earlier. Olivia was wounded and dismayed to be less informed than the insolent Petty.

"Oh… yes, of course. How silly of me to forget." Petty truly was a master of the snide glance. "Yes, milady."

Olivia closed her eyes briefly. "Carry on then, Petty, Letty." She left her own room, grateful for the emptiness of the hall outside. She'd found a library earlier. She could spend what remained of the afternoon there, away from chilly servants and Dane's busy indifference.

She tilted her head back and heaved the sigh that had been brimming for several minutes. Dinner with her parents.

Oh dear. And she'd only just managed to leave them.

Another thought brightened her mood, however. At least she would be alone with Dane in the carriage on the way.

"I do hope you don't mind me tagging along, Lady Greenleigh."

Dane turned his gaze to where Marcus was smiling engagingly at Olivia across the roomy carriage. "Nonsense," he said. "Why shouldn't you ride with us?"

Olivia shot an indecipherable glance in his direction, then turned back to Marcus. "Yes, you are most welcome, Lord Dryden," she said quietly.

She seemed a bit tired this evening. He'd likely kept her up too late last night. She'd perk up once they reached her family home, at any rate.

He gazed back out the window to the grim, blurry London streets passing outside. The weather was always unpleasant now, with the air gone to soot and fog. Most of Society had already left for Scotland or their home estates. Dane looked forward to showing Greenleigh to Olivia, but that would have to wait until the Four had settled the matter of George's "companion."

Tonight's excursion was merely an excuse to hold an impromptu meeting. He'd asked Lady Cheltenham to invite the Cobra, Lord Reardon, and the Falcon, Lord Wyndham, along with a few other benign acquaintances for camouflage. Just a casual evening with friends and family, at least to the outside world.

In addition, it would surely please Olivia to see her mother again. New brides pined for their mothers, did they not?

Not that he intended to concern himself too deeply with Olivia's needs. It wouldn't do to coddle her too much but there was no reason to mistreat her by keeping her from her loved ones. They would be leaving for Kirkall Hall in Scotland in a few days' time and Olivia wouldn't see her family again until Christmas at the soonest.

He was merely being considerate.

Olivia, on the other hand, was being anything but. Her answers to Marcus's friendly ventures were short and quiet—not rude but not forthcoming, either. Dane hoped he wouldn't have to speak to her on the topic.

Perhaps she would warm up once she'd arrived in her old home.

Olivia hadn't been in her family's London abode for more than a moment when she was made to feel as though she had never left.

Alas.

"Olivia dear, you've soiled your hem already!"

Lady Cheltenham had likely never soiled a hem in her life, not even as an infant. As her slender, imperious mother in her ruthlessly stylish gown came down the entrance hall, Olivia flashed on a tiny, imperious baby in ruthlessly stylish nappies.

Olivia sighed. The family butler, Huxley, hadn't even completely removed her cloak yet! "Good evening to you, too, Mother."

"What a pity. You needn't be such a hoyden, Olivia—"

Dane stepped smoothly between them. "I defy Princess Charlotte herself not to take on a bit of soot on an evening like this." He smiled indulgently at Olivia. She could have kissed him right there. "Besides, Lady Greenleigh need not concern herself with such things, eh?"

"Of course not." Lord Dryden stepped out of the wet and loomed alongside Dane like her own personal brick wall against her mother's criticisms. Lady Cheltenham made a few flustered noises, then hurriedly turned away to greet newly arriving guests.

Olivia caught Dane's hand at his side and squeezed it. "Thank you," she whispered.

Dane turned to look down at her and went still, caught by her grateful gaze. One might have thought he'd saved her from a charging bull for the thankfulness that shone from her eyes. He had to wonder what sort of woman Lady Cheltenham was, to cause such distress with a single comment.

He felt a tug of commiseration. His father had been a hard taskmaster, demanding and critical even when approving. Lady Cheltenham didn't seem as though she handed out much approval of any kind. It must have been very difficult for Olivia to remain as fearless as she was. His father would have liked her—

Dane clenched his jaw. His father had been a traitor, turned by a seductress, who had probably pinned him with such a grateful gaze at some time or another.

He banished the tug of sympathy and chuckled genially as he handed Huxley his greatcoat. "No trouble at all," Dane said lightly. He and Lord Dryden began to move away from her down the entrance hall, already absorbed in their conversation.

Olivia watched Dane go, a slight frown creasing her brow. For a moment, she'd felt the most astonishing sensation, as though he'd looked into her eyes and understood every single little thing about her.

Then it was gone, like footprints from beach sand after a wave.

"Lord Greenleigh is already inside?" Her mother's peevish tone let Olivia know who this evening was really for.

Olivia turned to see her mother enter the hall accompanied by a very handsome gentleman and his plump, pretty wife. He was prettier than her by far, until she smiled. Then dimples deepened and blue eyes shone with friendliness. Olivia adored her at once.

Astonishingly, Olivia's mother led them over and presented
them
to
her
. "This is the Earl of Reardon and Lady Reardon."

Reardon bowed and Olivia and Lady Reardon curtsied. When Olivia straightened she saw that her mother was off again, greeting more guests. "Heavens, this is turning out to be quite the party."

Lady Reardon grinned. "It looks like she's invited everyone who is left in town. Look, Nathaniel, isn't that Wallingford?"

Olivia looked toward the door to see her mother greeting a bored-looking young man. She turned back just in time to glimpse the expression of distaste that crossed Lord Reardon's face.

Lord Reardon… Reardon… "Oh!" she blurted. "You're Lord Treason!"

He grimaced. "Not anymore, I hope."

Olivia clapped a hand over her wayward mouth. "Oh dear. Oh no. I'm so sorry. Of course you aren't. I mean, you couldn't be anymore, could you? Not that I ever thought you were. I mean to say, I never even heard of you until a month ago, but…" She gave up and let her hands fall to her side. "Oh, bother."

Lady Reardon was gazing at her, both brows high. "You do carry on."

"I know," Olivia said miserably. Now the obviously interesting Lady Reardon would suddenly decide to be elsewhere. "I can't help it."

Lady Reardon tilted her head. "Me, neither. Want to go off somewhere and carry on?"

"Oh my," Lord Reardon said faintly. "What a harrowing thought."

Lady Reardon tucked her arm into Olivia's and waved a hand at her husband. "Go on and play with the other boys while I get to know my new partner in crime."

«
^
»

When everyone was gathered in the parlor, Olivia had only moments to attach names to faces before her mother pulled her aside.

"Olivia, dear, I must beg your opinion of our new music room draperies."

Olivia threw a regretful smile Lady Reardon's way but went willingly enough, although she knew perfectly well there were no new draperies. She'd only left home yesterday morning, for pity's sake! Still, it was doubtful she was going to be able to avoid her mother's censure for the entire party. Best to have it done without witnesses.

Olivia let her mother guide her to the never-used music room. "You wished to speak to me privately on some matter, Mother?"

Mother turned to her with an odd expression on her face. Was she actually
nervous
? Whatever for?

"Olivia, dear, please sit down for a moment." She led Olivia to the aged sofa that still looked good enough but was best sat on carefully. Olivia perched on the edge of the cushion so as not to tempt fate with the elderly springs.

She folded her hands in her lap and prepared herself. What had she done now? True, her hair had lost several pins already—she was fairly certain she'd left a few in the carriage—and her hem was still undeniably soiled, although the soot mark was barely visible on the gray satin. So what more fault could her mother possibly find?

"Olivia, I ought to have had this talk with you yesterday. It plagued me sleepless all night that I had sent you into his house without—well,
motherly
preparation, you see, for the… the
act
."

Olivia went very still. Oh dear. If her mother asked her what had happened last night, what was she to say?
You could say you had a marvelous time and cannot wait for it to happen again, and more
.

Hmm. Perhaps not.

Lady Cheltenham took Olivia's hand in her own. It was an odd and slightly alarming show of affection, since Olivia could not remember her mother ever touching her except to correct some malfunctioning hair ornament or an askew bodice.

"Livvie…"

Eek. Past alarming and directly to appalling! No one called her Livvie except for Walt. This bode no good.

"Livvie," her mother began again, "I ought to have made sure that you understood the importance of what you were about to undertake." She sighed. "As you likely already have discovered… men are rather basic creatures, dear, capable of the most disgusting demands. Why, even your own esteemed father—"

Father
? Oh,
ack!
Olivia's ears rang and she fought the violent impulse to leap up and flee. With all the will she possessed, she tuned her attention to her own breathing and heartbeat and to the faint murmur of the guests down the hall. She finally resorted to humming very softly to herself.

At last, it seemed to be over.

"… well, that was the last and only time he ever dared ask to leave the candles lighted, I can assure you!"

"Mmm-mm." Olivia would never be able to look her father in the eye again. Ever.

"So you see what you must tolerate, dear. Of course, for you it will be doubly difficult."

Doubly
? "Why is that, Mother?"

Her mother shook her head and patted Olivia's hand sorrowfully. "Because you must pretend to enjoy it, you poor creature. I was merely forced to tolerate. You must draw upon all your will and convince him that not only do you enjoy it, but that you want
more
!"

She fixed Olivia with pale-eyed intensity. "It is a terrible prospect, I know, but you must tie him to you tightly, my dear, and I fear that you have little to use for rope."

She must? She did?
Rope
?

Olivia brushed aside that intriguing mental picture. "Mother, I don't understand. Are you saying that he won't love me if I don't please him in the bedroom?" As generally icky as this conversation was, it warmed her that her mother so desperately wanted her and Dane to be happy.

Mother blinked. "Love? Who said anything about love? I'm talking about Cheltenham! Cheltenham
needs
you. You
must
do this!"

No longer quite so warm, Olivia withdrew her hand from her mother's grasp. "Cheltenham."

Mother blinked at her. "Of course Cheltenham. Goodness, would you lay yourself down for a man for anything less?"

No, but perhaps for something more.

"So you wish me to seduce my husband for the good of Cheltenham?"

Her mother tilted her head and smiled. "Thank you, dear. How lovely it was to have this little chat with you." She patted Olivia's hand and stood. "Well, I must get back to our guests." And she was gone.