Chapter 13

Olivia had never learned to play whist. She'd heard of the card game but never had the time or the inclination to learn.

Until now.

She sat in a straight-backed chair along the drawing room's west wall, cup of tea in hand, alone. More than two hours had

elapsed since the ladies left the men in the dining room. Two card tables were positioned in the chamber's center with four

women seated at each. Olivia had not been invited to play, but she did not mind, for now she could observe the other female

guests without drawing attention.

The four other young ladies were at the table nearest to Olivia, partnered in groups of two. MissEsther Haven, a stunning,

statuesque woman with flaxen hair, was partnered with MissCaroline Stanley, who possessed coppery curls, soft brown eyes,

and an airy, contagious laugh. MissRebecca Kline, a petite, buxom lady with full rosy cheeks and observant obsidian eyes,

was partnered with MissWainbridge.

At the other table sat Mrs.Milton and three of the chaperones.

By the time the men reunited with the ladies in the drawing room, the hour had grown quite late. Mr. Wainbridge and Captain Whitaker were the first to join them, followed shortly by Mr. Fielding, Mr. Tate, and Mr. Avery. They brought with them an informal air laced with laughter and good humor, and in the blink of an eye the stuffy, somewhat sedate room had become a flurry of activity.

Mr.Wainbridge opened the veranda doors, and cooler, restorative air streamed in. The ladies abandoned their games and tables,

and a fresh wave of footmen arrived with trays of cakes and beverages.

In the midst of the activity, Mrs.Milton found Olivia and took her arm. "Stay by me, MissBrannon. Besides my nephew you've

only been introduced to Mr.Fielding, correct? A reminder—speak with none of the other men until you've been formally introduced

by George, Isabella, or myself. In fact, the fewer people you speak with, the better."

A slight flush warmed Olivia's cheeks and neck. What would Mrs.Milton think if she knew the existing connection that Olivia

had with Mr.Avery?

At length Captain Whitaker, a round, short man whose flushed cheeks nearly matched the shade of his officer's uniform, approached

Mrs.Milton, and after a polite introduction, Olivia found herself engaged in a cordial, albeit dull, conversation. Try as

she might, she could not concentrate, for all the while she was acutely aware of Mr.Avery—where he was standing, with whom

he was speaking, when he laughed, and, most notably, when he looked in her direction.

Despite her poor opinion of his family, Olivia could admit that Lucas Avery was a handsome man. She'd always thought so, but she'd been loath to admit it. His umber-hued brown hair was a little darker than her own and just long enough to be fashionable. His eyes, even from a distance, were an unusual shade of pale green, enhanced by the deep moss shade of his worsted wool tailcoat.

She did try to focus on Captain Whitaker's recounting of his most recent visit to Covent Garden, but as time and the story

plodded on, her concern that she might not be able to speak with Mr.Avery that evening grew. And even as she smiled and spoke

as circumspectly as possible, she could feel eyes assessing her, adding to her uneasiness.

Olivia stayed close to Mrs.Milton's side, as instructed, but when one of the chaperones asked to speak with her privately

regarding MissHaven, Olivia saw her chance.

The moment Mrs.Milton was out of sight, Olivia excused herself from Captain Whitaker, but when she looked around the crowded

chamber, Mr.Avery seemed to be gone. What was worse, she spied Mr.Fielding approaching her. Fearing she might become embroiled

in another unpleasant conversation, she whirled around and, in doing so, nearly collided with Mr.Wainbridge's shoulder and

disrupted the drink in his hand.

And then she saw Mr.Avery, standing just behind him.

He was looking at her. And... smiling?

She forced her flustered attention to their host and the liquid that had splashed onto his sleeve. "How careless of me! Please

forgive me, Mr.Wainbridge. I did not see you there."

"Not at all. In fact, it's a small price to pay to see that you've escaped my aunt's clutches," he japed, procuring a handkerchief from his coat and swiping at his dampened sleeve. "She seems intent upon keeping you to herself."

Olivia recognized the inebriated tint of his eyes and cheeks. "She just introduced me to Captain Whitaker."

"Whitaker's a great friend of mine." Wainbridge's casual demeanor and relaxed posture were a sharp contrast to the polished

man she'd met earlier in the day. "What do you think of him?"

"I've only just met him, but he seems friendly enough."

Mr.Wainbridge chortled. "Friendly indeed. Well then, you must permit me to introduce you to another one of my friends. Mr.Lucas

Avery."

Her eyes met his. This was the moment. He might expose her. He might not.

She smiled, just as she would with any introduction. "A pleasure."

He bowed.

"You may not know it, but you and Avery here have something in common."

Olivia's heart thudded in her chest. "And what is that?"

"London. You both reside there. Such a small world, is it not?"

Relief trickled through her. "It is indeed, Mr.Wainbridge."

He grinned. "Good. I will leave the two of you to get acquainted while I go find another coat." Mr.Wainbridge clapped his

hand against Mr.Avery's broad shoulder as he left them.

And then she and her adversary were alone.

***

Years had passed since the last time Olivia had actually spoken to Lucas Avery. She'd heard about his successes and transactions,

about his travels and his father's death, but never had she expected to speak with him. Yet this conversation was inevitable.

In the short time since she first saw him on the staircase, she'd been imagining what she'd say to him when they finally did

speak, but now that he stood in front of her, her mind was devoid of thought.

The confidence in his voice, the familiarity of it, combined with the unwavering directness of his gaze, bemused her. "I'm

surprised but pleased to see you here, MissBrannon."

She'd show no discomfort—a skill she'd honed over years of working with men who did not take her seriously. "Not nearly as

surprised as I am to see you."

He chuckled but did not break their eye contact. "It's only that I've never seen you at these gatherings before."

These gatherings? She knew his clients were well-connected members of society, but the thought that he might interact with them socially hadn't

crossed her mind. "Mrs.Milton was kind enough to extend an invitation, and I was grateful to receive it."

He lifted his brows as if to signal a change in topic. "A Vinci, if I'm not mistaken."

Her fingers flew to the bauble. Of course he'd recognize the setting, the filigree of the notable impostor piece. "Very astute,

Mr.Avery."

"The metalwork is unparalleled. I've always been partial to his work."

She fought her anxiety and kept her tone light. "You're aware of its secret, then?"

He lowered his voice, as if taking her into his confidence. "Every antiquarian item has a secret, but I'd wager you know that

better than anyone."

His words were so calm, so amicable, as if coming upon an old family rival was mundane business. But then again, he likely

had nothing to hide.

A bout of laughter from across the room drew her attention. She looked over her shoulder and spied Mrs.Milton reentering

the drawing room.

If Olivia wanted to speak with Mr.Avery, she needed to do it now.

She turned around with renewed determination. "This will seem an odd question, but have you informed Mr.Wainbridge that you

and I were already acquainted?"

"I have not." His brows drew together, a twinkle brightening his eyes. "I was concerned that you might not want everyone to

know you were associated with a lowly merchant."

The easy nature of his tone would ease most, but she remained wary. The Averys were famously skilled in the art of conversation—and

manipulation.

She glanced up to see Mrs.Milton approaching. "I was hoping to ask you a favor."

"Anything."

"Whatever you know of me, of my family, I would appreciate it if you could, at least for the time being, keep it to yourself. You see, I—"

Olivia snapped her mouth closed as Mrs.Milton came within earshot and pivoted to face her hostess. "I do hope MissHaven

is all right. Her chaperone seemed quite concerned."

"A headache." Mrs.Milton stopped by Olivia's side. "Brought on, no doubt, by travel and a change of the weather. I'd wager

tomorrow she will feel well enough." She fixed her eyes, hard and heavy, on Mr.Avery, as if finally taking notice of him.

He bowed, but Mrs.Milton did not address him. Instead, she reached her hand out toward Olivia. "Come, MissBrannon. The hour

has struck eleven. I'm certain the ladies are ready to retire for the evening."

Olivia curtsied toward Mr.Avery in parting before allowing Mrs.Milton to take her arm. As they joined the group of ladies

in the center of the room, Olivia observed Mr.Avery's retreating form.

She'd done it. She'd made the request of him. Mr.Avery had not had time to respond before they were interrupted, but at least

she'd made her request known. Either he'd honor it, or he would not.

It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.