To Olivia’s relief her mother had begun to wear bright colors again at last, after being in mourning and half-mourning for far too long. Sarah would have been horrified that she was the cause of such drabness. Sarah had reminded Olivia of a butterfly, a joyful creature who flitted in and out of their lives all too briefly. She’d loved to paint, the brighter the colors the better, and she’d believed that the wearing of black as a sign of bereavement was an abomination.
Now Olivia scolded her mother gently. “Why shouldn’t you wear pretty things? I’m sure Sarah would be the first to tell you you should. We will look at patterns and you can decide on the style you prefer.”
Estelle, Olivia’s and her mother’s maid, was standing at the top of the stairs as they ascended to the sewing room.
“We are going to look at patterns this morning,” Olivia said, with a conspiratorial glance. Estelle had always been sympathetic to her attempts to ease her mother’s grief.
“I’m glad to hear it, miss,” Estelle replied. “It is well past time the mistress had a new dress.”
As her mother continued to make her way up the stairs, Estelle touched Olivia’s arm to hold her back. Olivia gave her a questioning look.
“Is something the matter, Estelle?”
The maid’s pretty, plump face was unusually serious, her hazel eyes lacking their sparkle. “I am a friend of Abbot, Lord Lacey’s manservant, miss.”
“Oh?” Olivia raised her brows, playing at ignorance. If Estelle had something to say, then she would say it.
“You called on His Lordship, miss.” Estelle glanced about, making certain they were still alone, and her strangely secretive behavior made Olivia even more wary.
“There is nothing wrong in visiting a neighbor, Estelle, but nevertheless I would prefer it if you didn’t mention this to my mother and father. They are old-fashioned and—”
“On the contrary, miss,” Estelle hastened to reassure her. “Abbot and me, we think it’s a very good idea that Lord Lacey has a—a proper lady for a friend. Not one of those nasty, rackety creatures he seems to spend all his time with these days.” As if only just realizing who she was speaking to, and the inappropriateness of her comment, she stopped and gave a little cough. “I just wanted you to know that if you need help, well, you only have to ask me.”
This was a surprising turn of events. Did Estelle know about the proposal? Had Abbot been eavesdropping? Olivia studied the maid a moment more, pondering her sudden helpfulness and what it meant. Estelle was older than Olivia, in her mid-twenties, though her lively personality had always made her seem like someone younger. Instinctively Olivia trusted her, but that didn’t mean she was going to tell Estelle about her planned meeting with Nic at two o’clock.
“I will bear it in mind,” she said at last.
Estelle dropped a little curtsy and went on her way.
Estelle put a hand to her bosom as if she might be able to slow her heart, it was beating so fast. Miss Olivia had a way of looking at one that was quite nerve-wracking, as if those blue eyes might pierce your very soul. Not that she could possibly know the reason that Estelle was so eager to help her fulfill her wish and marry Nic Lacey.
Abbot had been listening at the parlor door. He knew everything that had been said. Amazing and scandalous as it was, Miss Monteith had asked Wicked Nic to marry her. When everyone was expecting her to accept Mr. Garsed, she had her sights set on Wicked Nic. And from what Estelle knew of Miss Monteith, she was not a young lady who was easily deflected from her goal. “Headstrong” and “determined” were just two of the words you could apply to Olivia.
“He’ll refuse,” Abbot had said, after he’d told Estelle what he’d overheard. “I know him. He thinks she’s too good for him, and besides, he won’t risk his heart.”
“Then she’ll just have to try harder.”
“Or we can help.” Abbot had wrapped his arms tighter about Estelle as they snuggled up together in the narrow bed in Abbot’s room. “If they married then we could marry, too, and be together always, in the same house and the same bed. No more separations, no more you at the Monteiths and me at the castle. Imagine it, Estelle.”
She did; she longed for it. Especially now that there was another consideration, something she had yet to tell Abbot, despite the increasing urgency of her situation.
After an affair lasting nearly five years, Estelle was with child.
It was a gift in one way, and a disaster in another. All this time they had snatched their intimate moments when they could. Nic Lacey was often away from home, and then they mightn’t see each other for months at a time. Once Abbot had been away for almost a year, and Estelle had thought her heart would break.
She supposed she could have forced the issue. Abbot would marry her if she wanted him to, but that would not keep her from being alone whenever he traveled with Nic. Because Nic was a single man, with no wife, there would be no place for her with Abbot on his travels. And once she began to show her pregnancy she wouldn’t be able to keep her position with the Monteiths; a pregnant maid was not at all the thing, and she would be asked to leave.
But if Miss Olivia married Nic, Estelle and Abbot could be together forever. It was the perfect solution, and Estelle wasn’t about to let it slip through her grasp. And Abbot was with her, up to a point. Sometimes he was far too cautious and proper for Estelle’s liking, such as when he refused to contemplate any of Estelle’s clever plans to get His Lordship and Miss together.
That was when she decided she’d have to play her own game, her own way, and if a little dishonesty and trickery were necessary, then so be it. Abbot didn’t have to know. What did it matter about scruples when she was fighting for her happiness?
Chapter 3
Nic wasn’t pleased. He was irritated and annoyed, mostly with himself. He’d sworn he wouldn’t respond to the note sent to him by Olivia Monteith yesterday eveni
ng, that he would find something far more important to do, or go for a ride, or browse his father’s collection of books in the library. Why should he meet her? They might be neighbors, but it wasn’t as if he had an obligation to her.
But try as he might, he hadn’t been able to put her from his mind. The questions kept coming, crowding his thoughts, agitating him so much he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.