Chapter 8

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

He wanted to, oh how he wanted to, but every time he sat at his desk she was with him, laughing, taunting him.

Miss Olivia was someone completely insufferable, and he hated that she was permitted to stay with him, and yet thinking of her childhood he could hardly blame her. To be cast aside by her parents, only to lose them both before they could reconcile, was bound to have an effect on her.

He thought of his own troubled relationship with his father - the harsh words, the disappointment, the constant struggle for approval that seemed forever out of reach. He wondered if it had always been like that for her too, and that her scandal merely became the final straw. Then again, in spite of his struggles with his father, he had always had his mother with him. She did not appear to have had such a luxury.

If anything, her bright personality was incredible given her circumstances, he considered, but that did not mean he wished for her to be his burden to bear. He felt sorry for the girl, to be sure, but that was no reason to keep her around, was it?

Her suitor.

He knew that it would be a challenge from the moment he made the promise, but he was not one to go back on his word. Whether he liked it or not, whether he thought it would be possible or not, he had gotten himself into the mess and he needed to find a way out of it. Unfortunately, he had not been to Bolton Manor in a long time, and he no longer knew of any eligible gentleman in the area. Fortunately, he knew someone that did.

"You wanted to see me, Your Grace?" A voice came a few minutes later.

"Yes, Grayson," he replied with a curt nod, "Come in."

"If this is about the vase, I have arranged for it to be cleared away already, and-"

"What vase?"

Grayson shifted in his seat.

"It is nothing, Your Grace. What did you wish to speak with me about?"

William knew, of course, that it would be a matter pertaining to one Miss Olivia, but he did not pry. It would only anger him, and it was as Grayson said, the matter was in hand.

"I am hoping there will be a wedding soon. You wouldn't happen to have any experience in the matter, would you?"

"I aided in the preparations for your parents' wedding," he nodded, though he raised an eyebrow, "Has the young lady truly impressed you that much?"

"The young- heavens no!"

"Some other young lady, then?" He smirked, "I must say, I was not expecting this to happen so soon after your arrival, but the heart wants what it wants I suppose."

"You seem to have misunderstood," William explained, "I am not the one looking to marry, she is."

"Miss Olivia?"

"Of course."

"She doesn't wish to marry."

"To be sure," he said through gritted teeth.

Of course she wouldn't wish to marry. Less freedom, undoubtedly less money, and a far smaller house than the stately Bolton Manor. Any young lady would be a fool to want anything else, and as foolish as he thought her to be he had to admit that even she was not that stupid.

"Did you not know that, Your Grace?"

"That depends. Has she told you why she does not wish to marry?"

"It is to do with what happened. She says she never wishes to risk her life like that again. Had your mother not taken her in, it would have been disastrous for her. I do not blame her for being warned off of it altogether."

"To be sure, but we all have our roles and hers is to be a wife. That is why she has asked me to find her a husband."

"Ah, so she is aware of this?"

"Of course she is. I am not that cruel."

"I did not suggest otherwise, Your Grace. I am merely surprised that she would agree to such a thing."

"Perhaps she does not think I am capable of finding someone for her."

"Then, if I may ask, why do you need me?"

"Because, Grayson, I am incapable."

"Of finding a suitor for Miss Olivia? Gentlemen practically fall at her feet when she is out with your mother. She has simply turned each one away, saying that she is content with her lot and yet to meet someone worthy of changing that."

"Which is precisely why I need your assistance. Who are the most eligible bachelors here? I wish to arrange some meetings with them."

"Well, I am afraid that I am quite out of such circles, but there are some that your mother has mentioned. Perhaps you might be better speaking to her?"

"I cannot," he replied firmly, "My mother is not to know about this. Do you understand?"

"Of course, but why?"

"She will only make a fuss. She believes I am trying to find a way to have Miss Olivia out of our lives."

"Is that… not what you are doing?"

Grayson, William realized, was not a fool.

"No, I pity her and wish for her to make something of herself. My mother- it is not as though she will be here forever, and eventually Miss Olivia will have to make her own way and that will not be possible alone, no matter how capable she is."

"Very well," Grayson nodded, "I shall not tell a soul. I will, however, make a list for you if that is of any help."

"That would be excellent. Now, perhaps we might discuss that vase-"

There was a sudden laugh that rang out, echoing through the room. William had opened a window to let some air in, but instead it had allowed noise to enter.

He went to the window to close it, and there he saw his mother and Miss Olivia, side by side playing croquet. Miss Olivia was holding his mallet; dark blue with a silver tip, and she appeared to be ahead of his mother, winning. For a moment, he watched her play. She was good, possibly as good as he was, but what he noticed more than anything was the fact that she made his mother laugh.

She made her really laugh.

It was not a sound that he had heard much growing up. There would be a small smile here and there, and a pleasant chuckle when she did not wish to irritate her husband, but that was all. William had long since decided that she was not the sort to laugh and that was all there was to it; he was the same, after all, but now he could see her with the young lady, smiling as if she were three and twenty rather than three and fifty, he realized that he was wrong about that.

Was he wrong about Miss Olivia too?

"Oh! It appears I have hit it too hard," Miss Olivia's voice came suddenly, "Not to worry, I shall retrieve it!"

He had never seen a lady sprint so fast, and for a moment he wondered if, had she done so the day they met, they might have avoided that first terrible encounter altogether.

Then she lifted her skirts.

It was only just past her ankle, a third of the way up her shin at worst, but it was enough for him to crash back into reality. It did not matter that she was kind to his mother, or that the two ladies were friends, or that his staff adored her, she was not a good influence. His mother was easily led, and she always had been, and this girl was only going to make it worse.

"What is the meaning of this?" He called from his window.

"It is a game of croquet," Miss Olivia called back, "You use these mallets to hit the ball through these metal wickets, and-"

"I know perfectly well how to play croquet."

"Then you need not have asked," she laughed, "In any case, if you are so knowledgeable, perhaps you might like to join us?"

"Unfortunately, we do not all have the luxury of doing nothing with our time except entertaining ourselves."

"That is not all that I have done today," she replied, and he swore he could see her rolling her eyes at him, "I also helped fold linens, and prepare the lunch for today, and I dusted the hallway-"

"And you broke a vase."

"What?"

"Pardon," he corrected.

"I said what," she repeated, smiling, "As in ‘What did you say?'."

"The vase. Grayson has already told me all about it. You would think that a confession would not be that difficult to make if you were an honest woman."

"And it would not be, had I been the culprit."

"Do not insult my intelligence. Who else could it have been?"

But he saw his mother. She seemed to look from the window, at Miss Olivia, and then back to the window.

"It was me, dearest," she called at last, "I was walking whilst reading, and I did not look where I was going. It is my fault completely."

"But-"

"Are you going to berate her now?" Miss Olivia asked, "Will you now make her beg for forgiveness, or is it only the poor that you demean in such a manner?"

He hated that she was accusing him of being such a person, but he hated even more that she was not wrong. That was exactly what he was doing. He quickly shook himself for it.

"In any case," he sighed, "You know perfectly well that I have rules, and you know the repercussions of breaking them."

"Yes, so it is just as well that I am keeping to them perfectly. It must be a surprise for you to see that I am not incompetent."

"No, but it is a surprise that you are so willingly making such a ruckus, to the extent that I cannot concentrate, knowing perfectly well that it is one of your rules."

"I cannot make any noise in the house," she called, grinning, "Now, I do not know if you have noticed this, but I am quite clearly not in the house. This, Your Grace, is a garden. One of the many features of a garden is that it is outside. In fact, I would argue that it is the main feature of a garden, but I digress. Either way, it is not in your house, thus no rules are broken."

"Then it is fascinating that, should you be outside, I can hear you from all the way over here."

"Well, I can hear you too, so it appears we are both being far too loud. Would you not agree?"

For just a moment, he wished that she was simple instead.

"Mother, tell her," he called, realizing he sounded far more whiny than intended.

Miss Olivia laughed at him, and he couldn't tell if there was any malice in it but he did not like it either way. Regardless of their relationship, or lack thereof, she was a guest in his home and she needed to act accordingly. She should have known that, and William simply could not fathom why she didn't, or at least why she didn't care about it.

"Even a duke needs his mother, I suppose. Would you not agree, Virginia?"

"Oh, every boy needs his mother from time to time," she laughed, "But he is right. He has important work to do, and we are keeping him from it. Come, let us do more ladylike things, such as needlework and painting."

Was that… sarcasm? From his mother?

"But, Virginia-"

"Come now, you have practically won as it is. There is no catching up with you. In fact, I would say that you are a far better player than anyone I have ever gone against."

Miss Olivia then nodded to the dowager duchess and the two left their game. They did not tidy away after themselves, either. The thing that stuck with William the most, however, was his mother's comment. She was challenging him, something that she never did. She was teasing him into running downstairs and telling them to go back outside, to start the game over so that he could join. It was not something his mother ever did, and he knew that it was due to the newcomer's influence.

He also knew that he was not going to give in to it. Instead, he dismissed Grayson, telling him they would continue with their conversation when he had the list of bachelors, and set to preparing to leave instead.

He needed to speak to Coatsworth. He had been planning to, but now it was of utmost importance. He had seen it for himself now, those small changes caused by the mysterious young lady that had imposed herself in his home, changing his mother into a person that he did not recognize, and he needed to know more about it.

He needed to know what he had missed whilst in London.

Just as he was leaving, however, he was met by his mother in a hallway. She was pink-cheeked, still warm from her laughter, or perhaps from being in the sun for too long, and her smile was still there.

"You are not leaving, are you?"

"I was planning on it."

"Very well, but first you must join us for lunch."

"I do not have time."

"Then you shall make time," she said, as firmly as he had ever heard her speak, "Olivia has made a great effort with the cook this morning, and I will not have it go unnoticed by you simply because you are upset."

"I am not upset."

"No? Then why are you leaving?"

William went to respond, but he quickly realized that he could not. Quite honestly, there was no response. He was leaving because he was upset. That was all there truly was to it.

"That is precisely what I thought," she continued, "If you have no other reason, then I suggest you stay. You may go off on your merry way once you have eaten something."

"Very well," he huffed, "After lunch it is."