A knock at the door sent her whirling around in her chair. The door opened, and Bridget slipped inside. “Thank goodness, what took you so long?”
“I hurried as fast as I could, miss.”
“I know you did. I’m sorry.” Olivia turned back toward the mirror. “Can you help me with my hair? I don’t know what happened to my hairpins. I seem to have lost most of them.”
She looked down at the table, not wanting Bridget to see her cheeks color at the lie. She knew exactly what happened to them. Most of them were somewhere on the carpet in Will’s office and the others…well, she didn’t want to think how she’d lost the others. A shiver traced itself up her spine as she remembered Patrick grabbing her by her hair.
“Himself asked me to give ye this.” Bridget held out a small box wrapped in plain brown paper.
“Himself?” Olivia took the box and set it on the table in front of her.
“Lazarus.” The maid moved behind her. “If’n you’ll stand up, I kin fasten yer dress.”
Olivia stood. She pulled the string tied around the package and removed the wrapping. When Bridget finished, she retook her seat on the small stool and lifted the lid of the box. A card with the bold strokes of Will’s handwriting lay on top. “
To replace the ones I took.”
Olivia quickly set the card face down on the table. The last thing she needed was to have to explain what the card meant. “Oh.” Nestled in a bed of pink satin were the most beautiful hairpins Olivia had ever seen. An intricately carved enamel rose decorated each pin. They ranged in color from the palest white to a deep ruby red.
Bridget plucked one from the satin nest and began to thread it through Olivia’s hair.
“Wait. I can’t keep these. They are far too dear.”
“Don’t be daft. They’s a right nice gift, and the darker ones will set off yer hair real pretty like.” The maid took another pin from the box.
“It wouldn’t be seemly to accept such a gift from a man who isn’t my relative.”
“Do ye want ta keep ’em?”
“Yes, of course. They’re beautiful.”
“Then keep ’em.” Bridget picked up another pin and another, setting them in place. “Who would know where ye got ’em? I ain’t got no one to tell.”
“It would be rude to give them back after he went to all the trouble of purchasing them, wouldn’t it?” Olivia asked, more to convince herself than anything else.
“Aye, it would.” Bridget stepped back to admire her handiwork. “There ya be.”
Olivia looked in the mirror for the first time since opening Will’s gift. Her hair was gathered at the back of her head and fell in a waterfall of curls to her shoulders. “Bridget, I don’t know how you managed to make me look so beautiful in such a short amount of time, but thank you.”
“’Twas easy when ye have beauty to start with.” The young maid tilted her head. “But I think ye be needing one more thing,” she said and left the room.
“I have just the thing,” Olivia said to the empty room before realizing she was alone. Shrugging, she slipped on a pair of small pearl earbobs. She moved from the stool to step into the slippers she’d left by the bed, then crossed to the clothespress and withdrew a pair of elbow length matching gloves. She slipped them on and turned to find Bridget setting her pelisse on the bed.
“Hurry now. Let me be putting this on ye, and ye’ll be ready ta go.” The maid held up a length of royal blue ribbon.
“What is that for?”
“You’ll see.” She wrapped the ribbon around Olivia’s neck and secured it in the back. “Yer hair’ll cover the tiny knot holding it in place.”
“I don’t think I should wear a ribbon around my neck. It’s not appropriate.”
“Look in the mirror, then decide.” Bridget gave her a gentle push toward the dressing table.
Olivia stared at her reflection. She almost didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her. The ribbon set off the deep blue of her gown and hid most of the knife wound though it looked much better than it had four days ago. “I’ll wear it,” she said, making the decision in an instant.
She turned away from the mirror, scooped up the pelisse from the bed, and gave Bridget a quick hug. “Thank you for helping me.”
She left the room, leaving the young maid blushing and speechless. Olivia hurried down the stairs to where Will waited in the parlour set aside for unexpected callers. Just outside the door, she took a deep breath in an effort to calm her nerves and entered the room. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I had decided not to attend after you declined my offer of the invitation.”
Will turned away from the window. Their eyes met. His gaze traveled over her like a caress making her feel as though he had reached out and touched her. She moved, closing the distance between them. He touched the ribbon at her neck and his expression closed, becoming shuttered like always, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined the desire she saw in his eyes or if she wished something more there.
“You made a very good point in your response to my note. Tonight’s event will provide me with a chance to try and learn Sandhurst’s whereabouts.” He took the cream colored pelisse from her and helped her into it. “You’re wearing the hairpins.”
“Some of them.” Olivia touched her hair. “They are quite lovely, thank you.”
“As are you.” She was so beautiful. He wanted to hold her, to take her in his arms, to touch her, but he couldn’t do any of those things. He knew he shouldn’t, but he desperately wanted to.
She made him wish he didn’t have a criminal past, made him want to be a better man. To be a better man because of her, just for her. He gave a slight shake of his head. Though he was trying to become a legitimate businessman, he knew he could never escape his past completely. It was foolish to think otherwise. And even more foolhardy to expect Olivia to accept it without a qualm. “Shall we go?”
She glanced at the clock sitting on the mantel. “Yes. I’m afraid we’ll be a few minutes late.”
“I thought it was fashionable among the
Ton
to be late.”
“Some believe it best to be late so they can be certain all the other guests will see them arrive. I prefer not to be the center of all that attention.”
“My apologies for making us late then.” With a hand on the small of her back, he guided her down the hall and out of the house to the waiting carriage.
“It is my fault. I wasn’t dressed…” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at the driver.
“Fingers will be handling the reins tonight.”
The man sitting in the driver’s box inclined his head in acknowledgement. Will allowed Olivia a moment to see that he spoke the truth, then ushered her into the coach. He watched as she took a seat and adjusted her skirts. Sure she was settled, he rapped on the ceiling, and the carriage began to move. “You mentioned you were undressed,” he prompted.
“What? I said no such thing. I said I wasn’t dressed—”
“Which is exactly the same thing as being undressed,” Will interrupted. He enjoyed teasing her. Her cheeks bloomed a lovely pink color, and she became flustered in her embarrassment. It was nice that despite all she’d been exposed to during her time at war that she still blushed at the things she didn’t consider proper to discuss.
“How is Harry?” she asked in an obvious attempt to distract him.
“Do not trouble yourself over him. He made the mistake of gambling with some of Hammond’s men and then refusing to pay his losses. I paid his markers so now he will owe me.”
“I’m glad he wasn’t hurt.”
“Fingers believes I should have let Hammond’s men teach Harry what happens to men who try to cross them, but I think he learned the lesson well enough without having to suffer a beating or worse.”
“You care for him. You want everyone to think you are cold and unfeeling, but in truth you are devoted to those you consider your family.” Olivia said the words as a statement, not as a question as though she believed he was capable of caring for another.
Her belief in him, that he wasn’t a cold-hearted bastard out to take advantage of the misfortune of others, sent a pang through his heart. He rubbed the spot in the center of his chest, trying to ease the strange feeling.
“You women always want to see the best in a man. I paid Harry’s debt to keep Hammond pacified, nothing more.” Will spoke the lie as though it were the truth. “I haven’t the time to deal with the likes of him right now. Finding Mary is much more important.”
“I see.” It was clear she didn’t believe him. “Thank you for having Fingers drive your carriage this evening rather than…your regular coachman.” Olivia looked away from him, her fingers touching her neck in an unconscious gesture.
Will reached out and turned her chin to face him. “I promised you that you would be safe. Removing Patrick from his normal duties is part of that.” He hesitated a moment before continuing, “I’m sorry I didn’t take your fear of him seriously, that it took you being attacked by him for me to see it. I asked you once before to trust me. Now, I’m telling you, you can trust me.”
“I do trust you. I must.”
“Why
must
you?”
“Because I’ve never allowed anyone the liberties you’ve taken,” she whispered.
“Did you allow them if I took them?”
She nodded. “I allowed them because I wanted you—”
The carriage door swung open. “Yer Highness,” Fingers said to Olivia, before sweeping into a low bow.
Will started. He hadn’t even realized they’d come to a stop. He glared at his factotum and exited the carriage. He turned and helped her from the coach.
“None of your men like me a great deal, do they?”
“I cannot explain Patrick’s dislike of you as I do not understand it myself. Fingers, however, feels I am doing you a disservice by spending time with you. Calling you ‘your highness’ is his way of reminding me of that.” Will settled her hand in the crook of his arm and joined the other couples heading toward the door of the Smithfield townhouse.
“How can that be? We are helping each other learn the whereabouts of our siblings.”
“As true as that may be. He feels I risk your reputation by forcing you to procure invitations and the like so I may hunt Sandhurst among his own kind.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think he may be right, but I will not forfeit the opportunities your friendship with Lady Riverton gives me.”
And I will not give up spending time with you regardless of what anyone thinks is best for you.
Chapter Fourteen
For the first time since Phillip left London without a word, Olivia felt the keen sense of loss of his companionship. She had always felt they were closer than most siblings, given what they’d faced on the battlefield together. But it had been nearly three months since his disappearance, and she hadn’t received a single note from him.
She hoped Will was having better luck at finding his sister though if his demeanor at the Smithfield musicale was anything to judge his success by, he was no better off than she was herself. Things had gone from uncomfortable to untenable by the end of the evening. From the moment they arrived, they had been the object of scrutiny with the other guests paying little attention to the Smithfield sisters’ attempts at singing, reciting poetry, and playing the pianoforte. While the other women present had been polite, they spent most of their time whispering about her in tones just loud enough to be heard. With each comment, Will had become quieter and quieter, his expression carved in stone by the end of the recital.
Perhaps he had been correct in first refusing her invitation. He certainly learned nothing about Sandhurst, and she had gained nothing but a headache by the time he brought her home with barely a word spoken between them.
For the past seven days, she had wandered from one room to another, unable to settle at anything. She’d even consented to an outing to Hyde Park with Amanda and Lord Riverton two days ago in a desperate attempt to keep from thinking about Will and what he might be doing. Perhaps he had decided she was of no use to him after all. Perhaps she hadn’t heard from him because he was out of town once again searching for Mary.
Olivia sighed and pushed open the door to Linton’s Book Shop. Hopefully with something new to read, she’d stop staring out the windows worrying over things she had no control over. She didn’t know when she became a woman who fretted over things, but she decided she didn’t like it.
Bridget made a pointing motion with her hand and headed to the other side of the shop. Olivia browsed among the shelves nearest the door, finding a few books that piqued her interest when a prickling sensation ran down the back of her neck.
Feeling as though she was being watched, she glanced around the book lender’s shop. Overstuffed bookshelves lined the walls while chairs were arranged in comfortable groupings inviting one to sit and read or share their love for a particular volume of work. The overflow of novels that didn’t fit on the shelves were stacked in haphazard fashion on various tables throughout the establishment.
Other than the proprietor who sat behind a heavy oak desk in a far corner, his head buried in the book he held between two gnarled hands, there didn’t seem to be anyone else present. Olivia took a deep breath, breathing in the scents of leather, paper, and ink. She dispelled the uncomfortable feeling of being the object of scrutiny with a small shake of her head.
Her dealings with Will and the feelings of dislike by his men were making her unaccountably jumpy.
Deciding to take both books she held, she went in search of Bridget. Olivia headed toward one of the side rooms where ladies’ maids were known to congregate while their mistresses browsed the shelves and exchanged gossip. She took a quick look inside the room. No sign of Bridget.
Where could she be?
Olivia moved to the back of the room and the free standing shelves that created a mazelike warren of corridors. “Bridget,” she called in a whisper, not wanting to disturb anyone reading among the stacks of books.
Hurrying past one row, she rounded the corner and called again. She moved from row to row looking for the young maid with no success. Perhaps Bridget was in the section of children’s books. Yes, that must be it. While her reading skills had improved, she still struggled a great deal, and children’s books would be easier for her to read. Olivia moved to the end of the nearest shelf and froze.