7. Checking In With Ollie

CHECKING IN WITH OLLIE

H aving met with two of the seamstresses at Madam Chantal’s and arranged for them to come up with some designs for potential uniforms, Lydia stood waiting for her driver outside of the Bond Street shop with her maid and exhaled a long sigh.

As busy as she’d kept herself over the past week, it was impossible to keep her mind from going back to the day Jeremy had kissed her.

Twice, he’d kissed her.

Twice.

But since then, it had become quite apparent that he’d decided to avoid her.

Rather than bring the contract to her himself, Jeremy had sent it via messenger. As promised, he had indeed included the requirement that she not visit the Tuesday Warehouse unprotected, and it was an enforceable clause.

But most importantly, the contract ensured that the orphanage would be funded for eighteen months from the date of opening. She could not convince herself the clause was worth arguing over in the face of his generosity.

Even if Jeremy had told her he was only doing this at Baxter’s insistence.

After going over it with her brother’s solicitors and eager to move matters forward, Lydia had signed the contract and sent it back the very next day—via messenger as well.

In addition to the contract, Jeremy sent over an ambitious timeline, as well as his preferred contractors. She’d written back that she would like to discuss a few items, but again, two days had since passed without a response.

And he had not once indicated how Ollie was doing in any of them.

Was he avoiding her, or his own feelings? Or were they one and the same?

She’d seen regret in his eyes after he’d kissed her, and he’d looked almost fearful as he’d backed hastily toward the front door.

Coachman John effectively brought her thoughts to a halt as he pulled the carriage up beside them.

But while she’d been waiting, a pesky little idea had formed in the back of her mind. Would it be so very inappropriate to make an unplanned visit to Jeremy’s Townhouse on Cork Street?

To visit Ollie, of course.

She bit her lip.

Visiting an orphan boy she’d taken an interest in ought not to be misconstrued in any way. In fact, it ought to be considered perfectly acceptable. Quite appropriate.

And in the event that she did happen to run into Jeremy, she had her maid with her to act as chaperone.

Nothing improper at all.

Unwilling to rethink her decision, she whipped open the sliding door to the driver’s box. “Sixteen Cork Street.”

Louise, of course, didn’t question their new destination but did raise her brows half an inch.

The truth of the matter was that Lydia was very curious about Ollie’s plight. So much so that she’d talked her nerves into settling down considerably by the time they arrived at Jeremy’s modest Mayfair townhouse.

Modest by Heart Place standards, that was.

“No need to wait on us, John. Louise and I can return on foot.” Knowing her maid was always amenable to taking the air, Lydia waved the carriage away as Louise held the iron gate open for Lydia to pass through.

The brick facade of Jeremy’s townhouse was newly painted, and the wood door was polished to a high shine.

Oh, she hoped Ollie had made the right decision and stayed with Jeremy after all.

She didn’t recognize the servant who opened the door, nor did he recognize her. She faltered, doubting her decision to visit for an instant. Matters between her and Jeremy were very different than they’d been before. She had practically been on a first-name basis with most of his servants at Galewick Manor.

The manservant stared down at her, awaiting some explanation for her visit.

Which in actuality, posed no problem for Lydia. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. She was a Cockfield, after all.

“I am Lady Lydia Cockfield, sister of the Duke of Blackheart.” She summoned some of her brother’s demeanor. “I am here to meet with Ollie, the young boy Lord Tempest took in recently.”

The butler stared down his nose at her, but then stepped back, widening the door and bowing. “Of course, my lady. This way, please.”

Lydia craned her neck around, taking in her surroundings. This was where Jeremy spent most of his time.

The foyer’s decor was very representational of him: subdued yet tasteful paintings, quiet-colored moldings, and shining wood floors. There were several rugs, with simple but elegant floral accents, placed about.

The scent of lemon oil hung in the air as she followed the butler into a drawing room where the walls were painted an eggshell blue and the furnishings upholstered in matching blues and golds. A very expensive-looking vase was propped on a table behind the long settee.

This room, she decided, must have been decorated by his mother.

“How is Lady Tempest?” she asked impulsively.

The butler frowned as though uncertain of divulging his employer’s personal information.

“My dear Aunt Emma asked me to inquire.” Involving one’s dear aunt into any occasion was certain to lend an air of respectability.

And apparently it did.

“She is improving. Her doctors are cautiously optimistic.” And then the butler clutched his hands behind his back. “Do make yourself comfortable, my lady. I’ll have the boy brought down immediately, and if it is to your liking, your maid may wait in the kitchens with Mrs. Crump. Do not hesitate to use the bell pull if you have need of anything. I am Mr. Bartholomew, at your service.”

Louise glanced questioningly over at Lydia.

“I am not in need of a chaperone while visiting with a nine-year-old boy.” She smiled, knowing her maid would likely take tea with the servants below, and that she would enjoy that far more than sitting in a corner watching her fuss over Ollie.

As Louise all but flew out of the room, Lydia turned back to Mr. Bartholomew. “You said he would be ‘brought down’?” She’d have thought he’d be working below stairs.

“From the nursery, my lady.”

“Oh… thank you, Mr. Bartholomew.” Surely, Ollie would not be spending time in the nursery if he was considered a servant? The thought sent pleasant tingles swirling about in her chest.

She could not sit down. She could not relax.

This was Jeremy’s home. A home she might once have become mistress of, but for some unknown reason that was being kept secret from her.

If she was to suffer because of it, for goodness’ sake, she deserved to know the details!

If Lucinda was here, she’d surely have gotten it out of someone by now. Lucinda would make everyone miserable until she had her way.

A sudden wave of longing crashed over her; there were times when her twin sister’s absence felt like a missing limb—or, at least, how she imagined one would be. She wondered if Lucinda was feeling the same way or if she was too distracted with her new husband…

With some effort, she forcibly shifted her thoughts away from her lingering melancholy and back to the matter at hand. She was here now to check on Ollie and possibly Jeremy. If he was at home, that is, and if he would let her.

Lydia paced across the floor a few times and then stopped to stare out a window facing the gardens, gray and dormant at this time of year.

It was three in the afternoon. Was Jeremy meeting with one of his employees at the warehouse without her? Or was he at his office, going over numbers and contemplating new ventures to keep himself distracted from annoying ladies he’d once nearly been engaged to?

He might be home, but tucked away in his office, hiding from her. Lydia wouldn’t put it past him.

She sighed just as the door opened and Ollie appeared. Wearing short pants and a white shirt with a laced collar, he was accompanied by a tall, slim woman who looked to be in her late forties. Lydia had seen enough women in this profession to know his companion was a governess. She had that distinct air of authority, combined with a no-nonsense presence. Ollie moved to lurch forward but was caught firmly by the woman’s hand on his shoulder.

“Make your bow to Her Ladyship, Master Oliver,” the woman commanded, but Lydia was pleased to also hear a note of affection in her voice.

Jeremy had hired a governess for Ollie!

All the warmth of summer swept through her.

Ollie bowed low, folding over so far, he nearly lost his balance, and then rose. He sent a questioning glance towards the woman, checking to see if he had performed the gesture adequately.

“Very good, Master Oliver.” The governess nodded in approval.

Lydia rose. “Thank you, Miss…?”

“Mrs. Mumford.”

“You are Ollie’s… governess?”

“I am, my lady.”

This was most unexpected!

As much as she wanted to pick the woman’s mind as to how she’d come by her position and what her instructions were regarding Ollie, her purpose for coming was to ask Ollie how he was doing. He might not be straightforward with her when another adult was present.

“I thank you for bringing him down, Mrs. Mumford. I’ll send him back upstairs to resume your daily schedule as soon as Oliver and I are done chatting.”

“Very well, my lady.” She stepped backward. “I will take my tea and return to collect him.”

Lydia smiled down at Ollie as the governess took her leave. So many changes might be exciting for him, but they might also be overwhelming.

Lowering herself onto a settee, she gestured for Ollie to take the place beside her. “Won’t you sit down with me?.”

He squirmed and tugged at his collar but did as she asked, those violet eyes flashing around the room, filled with curiosity.

“All of this is very different from what you are used to, isn’t it?” she asked.

He turned his gaze back to her. “I didn’t expect none of this.”

Taking responsibility for an orphan could not be so simple as this, could it? “I’m glad you decided to stay with his Lordship. I would have worried if you’d done otherwise.”

Ollie bounced restlessly, his hands flat beside him on the cushions. “When’s he sendin’ me back, do ya ken? I have to make sure me brother ain’t gettin' into too much barney.”

“Barney? I don’t know what you mean.” Nor had she realized he had a brother. “Does Lord Tempest know about your brother?”

“He does, m’lady. Says he’ll find him too. But I don’t think he can. If Buck don’t wanna be found, ain’t no one who can. Except for Farley. He can find anyone. He knows all the bloomin’ hidin’ places.”

“Does Buck need to hide a lot?” Ollie had mentioned this Buck boy before.

Ollie plucked a small figurine of two small boys off the table and rubbed his fingertips along the smooth carving. “Yeah, he does. He’s older than me.”

Ollie was worried about his brother. A brother, who, apparently, got into a good deal of barney.

“How old is Buck?”

“He’s four and ten.”

Five years older than Ollie; he must be considerably larger. And she remembered Ollie telling them that Buck had been the one to cause the bruises when they’d discovered him in the warehouse. “I’m sure Buck is fine, then. And if Lord Tempest says he’s going to find him, I’ve no doubt that he will.”

Ollie tilted his head sideways. “Buck’s always messin’ up. And fightin’ when I’m not there to talk him outta it. Got his face right cut up past winter.”

“You are not responsible for what your brother does,” Lydia said, patting his leg.

Ollie sighed, eyebrows crinkled in an expression that looked too old for his small face. “He’s my brother, I can’t help it.”

The floor creaked, and Lydia glanced up. She had not heard Jeremy enter the room. For a moment, his eyes looked almost haunted, but the expression flickered and disappeared when he dipped his chin in her direction.

Lydia licked her lips, staring at his bared arms where his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He must have been working in his study after all.

Every button on his silk gold waistcoat was fastened, and the bottoms of his buff breeches were neatly tucked into shining Hessians.

“Mr. Bartholomew informed me that you…” Jeremy gestured behind him somewhat helplessly. “I did not realize we had a meeting scheduled.”

“We did not,” Lydia said.

Jeremy cocked a brow in question.

“I came to have a visit with Master Oliver ,” she explained.

Nothing in the world could hold back her pleasure at Ollie’s elevated circumstances, but she could not tease Jeremy about this or gloat. What on earth had transpired to cause Jeremy to decide to raise Ollie as a ward and not a servant?

“Mrs. Mumford is waiting in the foyer for you, Oliver.” Jeremy’s voice was cool and commanding.

Ollie hopped up, but when he moved toward the door, Jeremy stopped him with a question. “Did your letters give you as much difficulty this morning?”

Ollie shook his head. “Not so hard as the day before. Yer tricks ya told me helped.”

“Very good.” Jeremy’s lips twitched, and Ollie’s mouth stretched into a wide grin before he scrambled across the room. After struggling only slightly to pull the heavy door open, he exited and then very purposefully pushed it closed behind him, leaving Lydia alone with Jeremy for the first time in nearly a week.

Jeremy had not moved from where he stood, feet planted wide, hands behind his back.

He looked very much the Earl of Tempest today. Imposing, haughty…

Adorably austere.

“Please, don’t tell me you came here without a companion,” he said.

“My maid is in the kitchen with your housekeeper, taking tea.” And since he appeared to be quite at a loss, Lydia folded her hands in her lap graciously. “Won’t you sit down?” she invited for the second time in less than a quarter of an hour.

…While sitting in a drawing room that was not her own.

She wasn’t going to allow him to chase her away so easily this time. She never ought to have allowed him to chase her away to begin with.

To her surprise, Jeremy took the place Ollie had vacated. If he’d wanted to continue avoiding her, he easily could have claimed the winged-back chair on the opposite side of the room.

“Ollie says he has a brother. Have you had any luck finding him?”

“Buck. And yes, I have.”

Jeremy stared down at his hands and her gaze followed. Slim and masculine with a few curling tendrils of black hair on his knuckles, she couldn’t help but notice how sinewy muscle flexed and moved beneath his skin. Lydia clutched her own hands tightly in her lap, squashing the desire to trail her fingers along his forearm, all the way up to where it disappeared beneath the folds of his sleeves.

“Lydia?”

She sat up straight and pressed her knees together. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

But he was watching her knowingly now. Of course, she could never hide her feelings from anyone.

“You found Buck?” she persisted.

“Ah, yes.” Jeremy frowned. “He’s… trouble. Far more trouble than Ollie ever would have been. If Ollie’s going to stand half a chance at a proper life, the older boy can’t remain a part of it.”

“Oh…” She hated that Buck had beaten on Ollie, but they couldn’t very well keep them apart indefinitely, could they? “But he’s Ollie’s brother.”

Pain showed in Jeremy’s eyes, and Lydia guessed that memories of his own brother had come to mind.

“I miss Lucinda every day,” she confessed. “But I know she is happy and well. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be denied a sibling.”

She’d stood beside him at his brother’s funeral and watched him grieve. But he had survived. He’d not hated her brothers then—two men who might provide some of the companionship he missed now.

Jeremy’s throat pulsed. “Buck will ruin Ollie if he remains in his life.”

Her heart sank. She trusted that Jeremy wouldn’t say such a thing if he didn’t believe it entirely. “What will you tell Ollie?”

“The truth—that he has a choice.”

It was a very, very hard choice to present to one so young. In fact, it was a nigh impossible one.

“So, he’s going to have to choose between his own well-being—his own chance at living a meaningful and productive life—and staying at his brother’s side. I’m not sure he’ll be able to do that. I know that I couldn’t.”

“That’s why I…” Jeremy shook his head dismissively. “I’ll send for your maid.” He moved to rise but Lydia stopped him, placing her hand on his thigh.

“That’s why you what?” she asked, sensing he’d nearly told her something very important. “That’s why you what, Jeremy?”