The Seduction of Lady X (39 page)

Olivia blinked with surprise and slowly sank onto the chair.

She put that book aside and opened the next.
Faust.
Inside was another note.

While I found this tale to be highly implausible, I found it wildly entertaining. As I pen this note to you now, it feels as if I have made my own deal with the devil. You must read the book to understand what I mean.

Olivia closed the book in her lap. The realization that Harrison had left her a parting gift in these books and these notes sent pain shooting through her. She gathered the books to her breast and bent over, sobbing. The feelings she’d spent so many years pushing down so that she could tolerate her life, finally flooded their shores, spilling onto these books that Harrison had touched and left for her. She sobbed until she could cry no more, and when the last tear was wrung from her, Olivia pushed herself upright then wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“Enough,”
she said softly.

It was done. He was gone. He wouldn’t be back, and she couldn’t carry on like this, mourning and pining away without hope. Would she be a woman to waste away in her widow weeds? Or would she pick herself up and carry on? She had a life worth living, and it was high time she started.

It was with a new outlook that Olivia emerged Monday morning. The day was gloriously bright, the spring colors magnificent. She donned her best boots and a bright red scarf, picked up the novel
Camilla,
tucked it under her arm, and went marching into the kitchen.

“Good morning, milady!” Mrs. Lampley sang. “You’ve come up with the sun, it would seem.”

“Yes, indeed. I should like a luncheon basket, if you please, Mrs. Lampley. I mean to take a very long walk.”

“Now there is a lovely idea,” Mrs. Lampley said. “Not a cloud in the sky this morning.”

Olivia smiled and picked up a muffin. She took a bite of it. “Delicious.” For the first time in days, she actually noticed the taste of something.

“You’ll not believe it when I tell you I’ve had a letter from Rue!” Mrs. Lampley said as she lined a basket with a linen cloth.

“Rue!” Olivia repeated skeptically. “I suppose my sister helped her write it.”

“I hardly think so,” Mrs. Lampley said. “The letter is written very poorly and the handwriting atrocious!” She laughed as she cut cheese from the wheel and put it in the basket. “She said that Mr. Linford, the butler at Ashwood, helped her to spell some of the words.”

Olivia smiled. “She is well, I hope.”

“Oh, very. And quite excited that she was asked to witness the marriage between Mr. Tolly and Miss Hastings. She’s rather proud of that.”

Olivia couldn’t seem to draw a breath. She looked at Mrs. Lampley, who wore a cheery smile as she sliced through a loaf of bread.

“My sister and Mr. Tolly wed?” Olivia heard herself ask.

Mrs. Lampley’s knife stopped. “I beg your pardon, mu’um. I assumed you knew. I’d heard it from Mrs. Perry.”

Mrs. Perry! How would Mrs. Perry know, and not Olivia? “They married,” she repeated.

“Aye.” Mrs. Lampley withdrew Rue’s letter from her apron pocket and handed it to Olivia.

Olivia read the letter twice, as there were numerous misspellings and strange marks. But it was clear that Alexa and Harrison had set a date to wed—three days ago—and Rue was to be a witness.

They had been man and wife for three days.

Olivia sank onto Mrs. Lampley’s work stool, staring at Rue’s crudely written letter.

“Are you unwell, mu’um?” Mrs. Lampley asked.

“I am disappointed that I wasn’t there for the nuptials,” she lied.

“Oh, of course. Perhaps they sent word and it was lost.”

“Perhaps,” Olivia muttered. The kitchen, with its low ceiling and stone walls, was beginning to feel very close. “Well then,” she said, handing the letter back to Mrs. Lampley. “I think I shall take that walk in the sun.” She took the basket Mrs. Lampley had put together and forced a smile. “Good day, Mrs. Lampley.”

“Good day, Lady Carey.”

Olivia walked outside and stood in the garden with hens pecking around her boots looking for grain. It was just as well that she’d not known; she’d been on the verge of collapsing under her grief as it was. She couldn’t imagine how ill with despair she might have been had she known the day, the hour, the moment he had pledged his eternal fidelity to Alexa.

It was done. It was over. He had married her sister, and of all the cruelties Olivia had ever been made to suffer, that had to be the cruelest blow. And worse, she’d delivered the blow to herself. She had insisted on it; she had sent him away, so she had only herself to thank for it.

Olivia was weary of it all.

She walked along the path down to the gate, hopped onto the bottom rung, and pushed it open, swinging out. She hopped down and shut the gate, and as she turned about, she saw two riders coming down from the main house. Olivia paused, adjusting her bonnet.

David and a gentleman pulled up alongside her.

“Lady Carey,” David said, removing his hat. “How does the day find you?”

“Very well,” Olivia said, remembering to curtsy to him, now that he was the marquis. “I had heard you’d come down from London.”

“May I introduce Mr. Eason?”

“Madam,” Mr. Eason said, bowing over his horse’s neck.

“Good day, sir,” Olivia said.

“Mr. Eason is the new steward,” David said, and put his hat on his head again.

“Ah.” She smiled.

David looked at his hand. “I had intended to invite you for to tea, Olivia, but as long as we are here, I should tell you that we—that is, my uncle and I—thought that perhaps you might be more comfortable at the Greystone House on the Ridgeley estate.”

Olivia’s heart sank. She looked at Mr. Eason, who seemed very uncomfortable. “Ridgeley,” she said.

David nodded.

“In Cornwall?” she asked coolly.

“Yes,” David said. “Naturally, we will send you with a maid. And a cook. There is a couple who lives at the Greystone House to tend to things.”

“But it is in Cornwall, David,” she said. “My life is here.”

“Yes, well . . .” He shifted in his saddle. “We need the dowager house for Mr. Eason. He is now the steward and he should be closest to me.”

Mr. Eason looked as if he would like to crawl under a rock. Olivia stepped up to David’s horse and put her hand on the steed’s neck. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are!” he said hastily. “Of course we are. We do regret the inconvenience, Olivia, but what are we to do?”

Yes, what was the family of a cruel and damaged man to do but cast aside his wife? “I suppose you are to exile me to Cornwall. My husband has been gone scarcely more than a fortnight and I’ve already been forced out of my surroundings.”

“And whose fault is that?” David asked. He looked uneasily at Mr. Eason, but found no help there.

“I’ll just ride up the path and have a look about, shall I?” Mr. Eason said, and spurred his horse on.

“Mr. Eason is prepared to bring his family to Everdon Court by the month’s end,” David said.

Olivia’s gaze narrowed. “I have a week?”

David shrugged. “If there was any other way . . .” he said.

“There are many other ways, David. But you would like me out of sight and I am powerless to stop you. So be it. You have delivered your verdict, so if you will excuse me . . .” She started to walk down the path.

“Olivia,” David said pleadingly.

Olivia twirled around, and continued walking backward. “Edward was a drunk, David! He was cruel and he was mad and forced his will on me! You know—you
know
what I endured! But I did not cuckold him!” She turned around and marched down the path.

She despised David. She despised all of the Careys. She despised that women had no voice and could be shoved about. She would be happy to leave Everdon Court, but she would
not
go to Cornwall. David and his family could send her to Hades for all she cared—she would not waste away on some windswept cliff.

London, perhaps. Or perhaps
she
would go to Spain and take a Spanish lover! France! What was a little war when one’s family turned against one?

Olivia was so angry, she’d marched all the way to the river before she realized it. She dropped her basket and her book, then collapsed onto her knees, glaring at the water rushing past.

When her breath had returned to normal, Olivia removed her cloak and spread it on the riverbanks. She looked in the basket, but she had no appetite, so she picked up the book and opened it, rereading the note Harrison had left her. She turned to the first page and began to read.

How long she read, Olivia didn’t know. At first she’d found her mind wandering, and was forced to reread passages. But the story that began to unfold before her was about a seventeen-year-old girl who was naïve and too trusting.

Ah, she knew that girl well.

When she tired of reading, she rolled onto her back and watched the clouds scudding across the afternoon sky. Maybe she could carve a life for herself. Maybe she could put Harrison and everything that had happened at Everdon Court behind her and forge her own path. Maybe she could spend many afternoons watching the clouds float by. There were worse lives.

Resolved, Olivia gathered her things and started back to the house. She picked up a stick and wacked at the top of some leggy weeds, then let the stick drop. When she neared the gate, she inadvertently dropped her book. She picked it up, dusted it off, and wiped a bit of mud from the book’s corner. Her hair had come loose, and she pushed a strand off her face, then looked up to the gate.

She dropped the basket and book again at the sight of Harrison standing there, his cloak billowing out on the afternoon breeze.

Something must have happened for him to be standing up on the hill as he was, staring down at her.
Alexa.
Had she lost the baby?

He started down the path, his stride long, and Olivia just stood there, paralyzed with uncertainty, her foolish heart beating like a little bird.

Harrison’s expression was stern, his determination evident in the strength of his stride. He stopped before her, his gaze sweeping over her, from the top of her hair to the tips of her muddied boots.

Olivia couldn’t find her tongue.

Something changed in Harrison’s eyes; she saw a spark of light as he casually reached up and pushed her bonnet off her head, and with his thumb, wiped her cheek. He held it up to her. Mud.

“Where is Alexa?” Olivia asked breathlessly.

“At Ashwood. Hiding, I should think.”

“Hiding? You left your wife hiding at Ashwood?”

“My wife?” He grinned. “No, Olivia. Not my wife.”

“But we had a letter—”

“And I rather imagine you will have another shortly. We did not marry. That foolish girl refused me at the altar.”

Olivia gasped. She should have been indignant, but the only sound she could make was mad laughter.
They were not married!
The wave of joy washing over her was strong enough to carry her off, and she would have gladly gone along with it.

They were not married!

“The baby,” she said.

Harrison traced his hand across her cheek, his fingers sliding under her jaw. “Alexa is happy that her child will have an aunt and uncle who love him. I think it is time that you stopped minding your sister. She is a grown woman, and she is ready to make her own decisions and face her own consequences. She knows what she is about, and she is at peace with it. Now you must be, as well.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

He smiled. “Olivia, neither of us needs to pretend any longer. It’s over. There is nothing left but us. I want you to come to Ashwood with me. Your sister and her child will always have a place there.”

Ashwood. It sounded like heaven to her. “The Careys will ruin your career.”

He shrugged. “I have inherited an entire estate, and with a few changes it will be quite profitable.”

“Our reputations will not allow us into society.”

“We’ll have each other.”

“Yes,” she said, and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, we will have each other! I love you, Harrison. You cannot know how I have despaired these last few days. I should never have sent you away. I should never—”

“Hush,” he whispered. “There are so many things both of us should never have done, but they are all behind us now. I love you, Olivia. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I will always love you. I will never again allow you away from my side. We have new lives ahead of us. Come and gather your things. We are leaving Everdon Court.”