Chapter 33

Rain misted down, saturating Lucas's formal tailcoat and dripping from the brim of his beaver hat, as if Cloverton Hall itself

were commiserating with him regarding the frustration brewing within the walls.

He'd not slept since he returned to Cloverton Hall from Whitmore House. He doubted anyone really had, for shouts, confusion,

and angry outbursts had left everyone ill at ease. Even now, he paced the stable courtyard, waiting—determined to speak with

Olivia before she departed for London.

Stable hands bustled about him, preparing Cloverton's carriages for the unanticipated departure. Horses stomped and whinnied

as if protesting the unexpected morning activity.

Lucas ran his hand down his face to wipe away the moisture. All the options went through his mind, but try as he might, he

was unable to make sense of them. No one could have anticipated what happened to the Cavesee Vase, and until there were answers

regarding how it happened and who was responsible, no one would experience peace.

At length the door from the back conservatory opened. Two footmen exited first, carrying a trunk between them. Mrs. Milton's lady's maid, another servant, Miss Brannon, and Mrs. Milton followed.

He jogged toward her through the rain, mindless of how the mud splashed on his boots. "MissBrannon, a moment. Please."

She looked surprised, if not startled, to see him. Her eyes, which had been so vivid and bright mere hours ago, had dimmed.

Her complexion was cool and pale. She said something to the servant next to her, handed her a small valise, and turned back

toward him.

He took her arm and guided her to a sheltered spot just outside the stable to guard against the weather. Sensing he didn't

have much time, he forged ahead. "Are you all right?"

Her face was barely visible from beneath her bonnet's broad brim. "I am."

"I'd like to offer my services as an escort, should you feel more comfortable traveling with one." He held his breath, determined

that their time together would not end like this. Surely the connection he'd felt the previous few days had meant as much

to her as it had to him.

Her distant tone was a knife to his chest. "That is kind but not necessary. The driver will make certain we arrive safely."

He shifted. Why would she refuse? He spied the footman securing her trunk—they hadn't much time. "I can't help but think somehow

I could have prevented this."

"How could you possibly have prevented it?"

"Wainbridge saw your father's name on the Cavesee Vase's bill of sale and asked if you were related."

"And I hope you told him I was." She lifted her chin and finally met his gaze.

The fire in her statement encouraged him. "I did."

"Good."

An odd moment of panic seized him. Surely he was overlooking a way to fix the misunderstandings. He had to prevent her from

leaving. "What can I do?"

She swallowed hard. "I told you that I came here hoping to prove something, remember? Maybe that was just not meant to be."

Behind him, the carriage was ready. Lucas's time was running low.

"I have to go." She looked over at the carriage, then turned back toward him and offered a hint of a smile. "But how nice

it is to know that the Averys are not the monsters I believed them to be."

He would lose this battle—he could not prevent her from going—but he at least had to secure hope that this dreadful morning

would not be their final interaction. "Perhaps when I return to London, I could call on you. Would that be permissible?"

She nodded. "Goodbye, Mr.Avery."

As Lucas watched Olivia bid a tepid farewell to Mrs.Milton, doubts stabbed his optimism. Like it or not, he was a different

man now. She alone had opened his eyes to what an authentic, pure connection could be, and it was intoxicating—far more intoxicating

than any other vice.

He determined in that moment that this would not be the end. This glimpse into what the future could be was realigning everything he thought he wanted out of life. He would pursue Olivia Brannon, for she was taking with her a piece of him that he could not live without—his heart.

***

It was a miserable day—made ever more miserable by the rain that fell in misty sheets and the damp, bone-chilling wind that

seeped in through the space around the doors and windows.

Olivia was not prone to tears. In her experience they'd never been productive or offered any true comfort. But at the moment

she was worn. She hadn't slept. She hadn't eaten. The tangle of feelings churning in her was more than mere frustration. It

was disappointment over the end of an opportunity. Anger at herself for not being more careful and guarded. More than anything,

though, it was overwhelming sadness.

She'd seen the sincerity in Lucas's expression. She believed he was sorry to see her go. How, in such a short time, had Lucas

Avery gone from a man she despised to a man who touched her heart? Her soul? She'd been at Cloverton Hall only a week, yet

never had she connected with someone so perfectly—felt so understood and seen by another.

But it was likely over now. How could anything come to pass? He would return to his life in London, and his thoughts of her

would subside. He'd go back to his existence, and she'd return to hers.

The rain pounded against the window, and a fresh gust of wind pushed against them from the west, swaying the carriage to and fro on the rutted road. She looked over to Tabitha, who was clutching a dark blue shawl about her shoulders and looking out the window, watching the scenery flash by.

Olivia was grateful to Mrs.Milton, for despite her distress, she'd insisted it would be improper for Olivia to travel without

at least a maid.

"I am so sorry you were taken away from your routine to stay with me," Olivia said, drawing the young woman's attention.

"No need for an apology, MissBrannon." Tabitha's smile was oddly bright. "I've only been out o' t' village a couple o' times.

I'm excited about it, actually."

In that instance, the similarities between herself and the maid struck Olivia. Their backgrounds might be very different,

and yet neither of them had ever been away from home.

"But you will have to travel home alone," persisted Olivia. "Does that not concern you?"

"Not at all! I've known t' driver an' these footmen for quite some time. They know better 'an to bother me. Besides, you're

a lady. It would not be seemly for you t' travel alone. I had t' come."

"Oh, Tabitha." Olivia shook her head. "I'm not a lady. Not in the sense that you're referring to."

"Do ye think we'll e'er know what 'appened t' that vase?"

Tabitha's abrupt change of topic unsettled her, and the painful sight of the broken relic flashed in Olivia's mind.

"I 'eard the footmen talkin' 'bout it a'fore we left," Tabitha chattered on. "They said no one 'eard a thing. Isn't that odd? You'd think that when somethin' like that broke, it'd be so loud it would wake t' whole of Cloverton Hall."

Olivia leaned her head back on the tufted seat behind her and closed her eyes, as if to shut the memory out. The Cavesee Vase

was an important piece, but it was only part of what made this entire situation so difficult. "I hate to think of the state

we left poor Mrs.Milton in. The expression of horror on her face will haunt me, certainly."

Tabitha removed the bonnet from her head and shook out her coppery tresses. "Teague's there for 'er. But Mrs.Milton was already

so angry a'fore this even 'appened. I can only imagine it'll be worse now. The sooner she can be away from Cloverton Hall,

the 'appier she'll be."

Olivia returned her attention to the dreary, rain-soaked scenery. They would have at least one more full day of travel ahead

of them, and how Olivia wished she could accelerate time and forget that this trip ever happened.

But that would mean forgetting about Lucas Avery.

And she was not sure she wanted to do that.