Chapter 25

RECANT OF PRIOR STATEMENTS. I wish to make my official apology to Lady Allen, wife of the deceased Earl of Allen. Lady Allen has shown nothing but grace and kindness to any soul who enters her orbit, and it is with a heavy heart that I admit any accusations placed against her have been falsified. The late Lord Allen was not poisoned but passed peacefully in his sleep after a long battle with consumption. Any further accusations should be met with the toughest of skepticism. You will hear no more from me.

“Lady Allen, will you be attending Lady Fairweather’s ball?”

“Oh, Lady Allen, who is your modiste?”

“Are you free for the next dance, Lady Allen?”

Olivia struggled to keep the smile on her face as the crowd pressed in on her. She should have been ecstatic. She had, after all, done what she had sought to do. Lady Felix had published her retraction, and as a result, the entire ton wanted her to attend their events, or find a husband for their daughter, or judge their art competition.

“Yes, I will be attending Lady Fairweather’s ball,” she told the woman to her left. Then she swiveled her head and found a wide-eyed debutante. “A lovely Parisian woman named Madame Julian designed this gown. I am certain she would appreciate your patronage.” Finally, she addressed the Earl of Bellows. “I am parched, my lord. Could you fetch me a glass of champagne?”

The man raced off to do her bidding, and she was not surprised when two dandies quickly took his place.

They were only willing to entertain her as long as she could provide them with what they wanted: mentorship, popularity, attention. The moment she fell out of favor, they would vanish like birds spooked by the sound of a shot.

Even Thel had come to her wanting her patronage for Constance, of whom she had not seen a hair since her fight with the marquess. She dearly wanted to know if Constance had still committed herself to Mr. Dawson, but she did not dare send another missive, as Thel had returned her first unopened.

She was not na?ve enough to believe she could change his mind. He was just like the earl, presenting one face to society while behaving entirely differently in private.

The same way you adopt the role of Lady Allen?

She chased the voice away and concentrated on Lady Deirdre, who shoved a black-haired waif forward. The girl’s eyes were enormous in her narrow face. She was pretty, although with a pinched look about her, as if she had never had enough to eat.

It was not an unlikely scenario. The newest fad for girls was swooning, which was seen as graceful. In reality, it did nothing except make them more fragile and easier for the men of society to manage.

Olivia bared her teeth in what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I apologize, but my schedule is quite full.”

She could not take another girl under her wing and risk repeating what had happened to Constance and Lady Mason. It would break what was left of her heart.

She searched the crowd without realizing for whom she was looking, and when she spotted Constance, the shock startled a gasp from her lips. The girl was surrounded by men and women chattering away to get her attention.

Lord Bellows returned at that moment with her champagne. She downed it, held up the glass for a passing servant to take, then took her savior’s arm. “I desire some fresh air.”

The man smiled. “Of course, Lady Allen. Perhaps I could call you ‘Olivia’?”

“If that is your wish, my lord.” She did not care what he called her. She just had to get out of the ballroom before Thel, who had to be present if his daughter was, saw her. The jagged edges of the wound he had sliced across her heart had not yet come together. She had spent each night since their fight replaying the moments leading up to her dismissal, imagining what she might have said to change the inevitable outcome.

When they reached the hedge maze, she relaxed her death grip on Lord Bellows’s arm. She was safe. Thel was unlikely to venture so far from the ballroom. The gardens were the domain of lovers, not uptight men who insisted on believing in a fantasy. Love. What a ridiculous notion. Even if it existed, she was better off without it. Love brought vulnerability, which led to pain.

“I have been waiting for this day for months,” Lord Bellows said. He shoved her against the foliage.

She should have screamed, or struggled, or done anything to fight back, but she had lost hold of Lady Allen. She was only scared, traumatized Olivia. She clenched her eyes shut and waited for it to be over, only to hear a strangled grunt, and then the hands clasped around her upper arms loosened, and she was left leaning into the hedge.

She fluttered her eyelids open. The man cupped his crotch, his face purple, his teeth bared. Constance stood next to him, her fists balled and held at her chin, her eyes narrowed.

“You bitch.” Lord Bellows struggled upright. “I’ll—”

“Do nothing,” Olivia said. “Unless you would like rumors of your inability to perform to become public knowledge. You don’t have any children, do you, Lord Bellows?”

He scowled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Constance flitted to her side and took her arm. “I would love to hear the story of how Lord Bellows propositioned you but could not stand at attention.”

Lord Bellows sputtered but made no further effort to rise.

Olivia squeezed Constance’s hand and then drew her out of the hedge maze. They did not need to give the man a chance to change his mind.

“I owe you a debt,” Olivia said when they were far enough away from Lord Bellows that she did not worry he would overhear.

Constance plucked the bloom of a carnation, tucked it behind her ear, then did a deep curtsey before Olivia. “I am your most humble servant.”

Olivia fell into the game as smoothly as if they had just danced in Constance’s room that morning. She picked up a broken stick from the ground and brandished it. “Nonsense. You are my loyal retainer. My bodyguard. Lord Bellows did not stand a chance.”

Constance picked up another stick and held it out in a fighting stance. “I believe you need a lesson, lest this incident occur again.”

She lunged, and Olivia met the strike, laughter bubbling up in her throat. She slashed and cracked her branch against Constance’s in a flurry of blows, falling deeper into the role with each step. This was what she’d missed. This freedom of allowing herself to be and do whatever she wanted. She mock-stabbed Constance in the chest, and the girl let out a dramatic moan.

“You are the one who requires further lessons,” she said. Then she tossed the stick, dropping their game in a heartbeat. “Where’s Th—your father? I find it hard to believe he let you out of his sight.”

Constance bowed her head. “He didn’t come. He spends most of his time in his office. I think he misses you.”

Olivia sat beside her. “Lord Lowell is no longer my concern. He dismissed me.”

“You forgot about him so quickly?”

“Nothing could be further from the truth.” She peered up at Constance. “What about Mr. Dawson? Do you still want to marry him?”

Constance pursed her lips. “I love him.”

“Are you still giving him money?”

“It’s only until his inheritance comes in.”

Olivia put a hand on Constance’s shoulder. “How can you be sure there is an inheritance?”

Tears dripped down Constance’s cheeks. “I don’t know.”

Olivia handed her a handkerchief.

Constance dabbed at her cheeks. “I wish you could see what I see in him. Your blessing means so much to me. You are the closest thing to a mother I have.”

The pressure inside Olivia’s chest grew until she felt as if she were going to burst. She had meddled in Constance’s life from the moment the girl had been introduced to her. She had allowed her own past to cloud her perception of Mr. Dawson. The man had shown signs of cruelty, but that might have been as much her fault, as she had done nothing but antagonize him. She had placed him in the same box as the earl and had resisted any attempts Constance made to show her any other truth.

“I would have been blessed to have a daughter as lovely as you,” she said.

Constance gave a hiccupping laugh before handing the handkerchief back. “It’s not too late.”

Olivia caught the lilt in her voice. The girl was teasing her or playing matchmaker herself. She elbowed her in the ribs. “You are a clever little hellion. What’s your scheme? Did you summon your father here to force us into a confrontation?”

Her shoulders drooped. “I tried.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. This was certainly another of Constance’s manipulations. The girl was determined when there was something she wanted. On the other hand, if she did not intervene, she might find herself caught in a situation with Thel that she did not expect. There was only one way to give Constance the closure she needed and prevent any awkward incidents.

She dreaded speaking to Thel, but perhaps it was for the best. Her duty as matchmaker was over, but if he was willing to apologize, it was still possible that they could have some manner of future together.

“If it would appease you, I will visit the house and speak with your father.”

Constance gasped. “Really?”

Olivia tapped the girl on the nose. “Only if you promise to give up any further scheming. You can become a matchmaker when you are older, if you so desire, but you are presently too young to be meddling with the emotions of your elders.”

“I’ll stop,” Constance said. Then she glanced over Olivia’s shoulder.

“Well, go on then,” Olivia said with a smile. “Mr. Dawson won’t wait all night. You’re planning on meeting him, are you not?”

Constance had the grace to blush before she scurried into the gardens.

It took a tremendous force of will for Olivia to stop herself from following.