Last Night's Scandal (The Dressmakers 5)

“I have no imagination,” he said. “I see what’s there and not what isn’t.”

“Yes, I know, and that would make it excruciating for you to try to discover the beauty in a ruined castle,” she said. “What you need is an expert eye, and an imagination. I shall supply them, while you supply the practical side of things.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t understand the difficulties, my dear,” said Mother. “As Olivia said, sending you alone would be like sending a soldier into battle with a rifle but no ammunition.”

He looked at his father, who smiled indulgently back at him. Indulgent! Father!

And why not? Olivia had merely done to his parents what she did to everybody: She’d made them believe.

“It’s a brilliant solution,” his lordship said. “You’ll be there to protect the ladies from any dreadful things that may be lurking about the place, and to get to the bottom of whatever has set off the unfortunate series of events.”

“And Olivia will be there to protect you from decorating,” Mother said. She laughed. They all laughed.

“Ha-ha,” said Lisle. “I find I’m too excited to eat my breakfast. I think I’ll take a turn in the garden. Olivia, would you care to join me?”

“I should like nothing better,” she said, all glowing guilelessness.

In the garden

Ten minutes later

Lisle loomed over Olivia, his grey eyes as hard as flint.

“Have you lost your mind?” he said. “Weren’t you listening to me yesterday? Are you becoming like my parents, hearing only the voices in your head?”

To be compared to his insane parents was infuriating. Nonetheless, Olivia maintained her cheerfully innocent expression, and didn’t kick him in the shins.

“Of course I was listening,” she said. “That’s how I realized you were completely irrational about the subject, and I would have to take desperate measures to save you from yourself.”

“I?” he said. “I’m not the one who needs saving. I know exactly what I’m doing and why. I told you we couldn’t give in to them.”

“You don’t have a choice,” she said.

“There are always choices,” he said. “I only need time to ascertain what they are. You didn’t even give me time to think about it!”

“You don’t have time,” she said. “If you don’t take control of the situation now, they’ll raise the stakes. You don’t understand them. You don’t know how they think. I do.” That was what DeLuceys did and that was how they survived. They looked into others’ hearts and minds and used what they found there. “For once, you need to trust my judgment.”

“You have no judgment,” he said. “You don’t know what you want. You’re feeling stifled here, and my parents have offered an opportunity for excitement. That’s all you’re thinking about. I saw the gleam in your eye when I first told you about our haunted castle. I could practically hear what you were thinking. Ghosts. A mystery. Danger. To you it’s an adventure. You told me so. But it’s no adventure to me.”

“Because it isn’t Egypt,” she said. “Because nothing but Egypt can be interesting or important.”

“That isn’t—”

“And because you’re obstinate,” she said. “Because you won’t open your mind to the possibilities. Because you want to fight, as usual, instead of finding a way to make the best of the opportunity. You’re not an opportunist, I know. That’s my specialty. Why can’t you see that the cleverest thing to do is to pool our resources?”

“I don’t care about being clever!” he said. “This isn’t a game to me.”

“Is that what you think? That it’s a game to me?”

“Everything is,” he said. “I spoke to you yesterday in confidence. I thought you understood. But it’s merely sport to you, playing people as though they were cards.”

“I did it for your sake, you thickheaded man!”

But he was too busy being all hurt and indignant to listen to anything she said.

He went on as though she hadn’t spoken, “You’ve played well, I’ll admit. You’ve shown me you can manage even my parents and make them fall in with your ridiculous schemes. But I’m not them. I know you. I know your tricks. And I won’t have my life upended because you’re bored with yours!”

“That is one of the most detestable, hurtful, willfully obtuse things you’ve ever said to me,” she said. “You’re acting like a complete idiot, and idiots bore me. Go to the devil.” She gave him a hard shove.

He wasn’t expecting it. He stumbled and lost his balance and fell backward into the shrubbery.

“Moron,” she said, and stormed away.

White’s Club

Shortly after midnight

Lisle had spent the day trying to wear out his rage by boxing, fencing, riding hard, and, in desperation, firing at targets in a shooting gallery.

He still wanted to kill somebody.

He was sitting in the card room, eyeing the occupants over the rim of his glass and debating which one was worth picking a fight with, when a deferential voice at his shoulder said, “I apologize for disturbing your lordship, but a message has come.”

Lisle looked around. The servant placed a silver tray on the table at his elbow.

The folded and sealed notepaper bore his name. Although, thanks to a bottle or two, he was not as clearheaded as he’d been when he arrived, he had no trouble identifying the penmanship.

Moreover, it wanted no special mental gifts to ascertain that a message from Olivia after midnight could not contain news he’d enjoy.

He tore open the note.

Ormont House

Friday 7 October

My Lord,

Having waited In Vain all day for an APOLOGY, I can wait no longer. I shall leave it to you to Explain to Lord and Lady Atherton your Absurd Refusal to do what will make EVERYBODY happy. My Arrangements are made. My Bags are packed. The servants are ready for the Great Expedition. The Dear Ladies who have so kindly agreed to leave the Comforts of their Domiciles in order to accompany us me on this Noble Quest are Ready and impatient to set out.

If you deem yourself Abandoned, you have only yourself and your base ingratitude to thank for it. My Conscience is Clear. You have left me NO CHOICE.

By the time you read this, I shall be Gone.

Yours sincerely,

Olivia Carsington

“No,” he said. “Not again.”

On the Old North Road

An hour later

“I vow, it’s been an age since I was in a traveling carriage,” said Lady Withcote as the carriage stopped to pay the Kingsland Turnpike toll. “I’d altogether forgotten what a hard ride it is, especially over the paving stones.”

“A hard ride, indeed,” said Lady Cooper. “Put me in mind of my wedding night. What a jarring exercise that turned out to be. Almost put me off the business permanent.”

“Always the way with the first husband,” said Lady Withcote. “It’s due to a girl being young and knowing no more than what goes where.”

“And maybe she doesn’t know even that,” said Lady Cooper.

“As a consequence, she doesn’t know how to train him,” said Lady Withcote.

“And by the time she does know, he’s past learning.” Lady Cooper sighed.

Lady Withcote leaned toward Olivia, who shared the opposite seat with Bailey. “Still, it wasn’t as bad as you’d think. Our parents chose the first one, and he’d be twice our age or more. But then it was good odds we’d be young widows. Being older and wiser, we knew better how to get what we liked the second time.”

“Some of us did try the second husband first, before consenting to marry,” said Lady Cooper.

“And there were those who never troubled with marrying a second time,” said Lady With

cote.

Olivia knew they referred to Great-Grandmama. She’d been scrupulously faithful to her spouse. After he died, she wasn’t faithful to anybody.

“Well, we’re done with the paving stones for the present,” she said cheerfully as the carriage jolted into motion again.

Even a luxurious, well-sprung traveling carriage like this was built for enduring rough roads and long journeys. It was not, as the town carriages were, built strictly for comfort. The wheels rattling over the stones made for a noisy as well as jarring ride.

For the last hour, the ladies had shouted over the noise of the carriage wheels on paving stones, and bounced in their seats. Olivia had shouted and bounced along with them. Her bottom was sore and her back was aching, though Shoreditch Church, from which the distance from London was measured, was only a mile and a quarter behind them.

But now the houses had thinned, and the road was smoother. The coach moved a degree faster, and the next mile passed more swiftly than the last. They passed through the Stamford Tollgate and climbed Stamford Hill. From the top, one was supposed to be able to see St. Paul’s.

Olivia stood to put down the window panel. She leaned out and looked back, but the night was dark. She could see only the occasional faint glow of streetlamps and a bit more of a glow in the great houses where balls would continue for hours yet. The moon would not rise until after dawn, when it would be of no use at all, even if it hadn’t been only a degree past new, the thinnest of sickles.

She raised the panel again, hooked it into place, and sank into her seat.