A Wallflower Demands Satisfaction (Revenge of the Wallflowers #55)

4. April 16, 1830

4

APRIL 16, 1830

CHELMSFORD MANSION KITCHEN

* * *

B erkley Square

Olivia crossed her arms and tapped her new rose kid slippers on the polished tile of the kitchen floor. She’d come to expect Will around eleven each day, as dependable as the chimes of the hall clock. And today, his partner-in-crime Dickie sat next to him at the long heavy wooden table that took up most of the space in the center of the cavernous kitchen.

Why Cook hadn’t thrown both of them out on their arses was a mystery. Oh—. Her pretend Uncle Percy had joined them, and all three of them were gobbling down chocolate biscuits fresh from the oven as if a famine were imminent.

His Grace saw her first. “Come join us, Olivia, before they’re all gone.”

The duchess had glided silently up behind Olivia and tapped her gently on the shoulder. “They’re behaving like a nursery full of hellions.”

“Are all men this attics to let?” Olivia’s question came out in a soft whisper, but she really wanted to know. When Her Grace didn’t answer, Olivia turned, and the expression on her employer’s face conveyed the wordless message: “I can’t believe you asked that.”

Will was the first to spy Her Grace and leapt to his feet with a deep bow. The other two biscuit thieves followed suit.

“Percy,” the duchess said, “with me,” and crooked a finger. He followed her back to the upper levels like an obedient, albeit tall, puppy.

“What in St. Martin’s name are you two doing here at this hour of the day?” Olivia hated the way they made her feel.

Will spoke first. “I was making my rounds and after I checked the upper levels, Cook offered me refreshments on my way back to the station.”

“Do you still work at all for Sir Robert Peel’s police force?” Olivia demanded, an exasperated tone in her voice.

Will hung his head and mumbled something unintelligible.

“I can’t hear you.” Olivia moved closer and frowned at them.

“He said he’s sorry,” her brother Dickie assured her.

“For what?”

“For whatever you’ve got your gob all twisted about.”

“I’m not talking to you.” Olivia threw Dickie a murderous look.

Will raised his head. “I can apologize for myself, but you must see how dangerous the city can be for a lady like you. You need protection.”

“In the mansion of the Duke of Chelmsford?”

His Grace, who had returned for another handful of biscuits, unhelpfully added, “I’m fairly sure Berkley Square has become the safest place in Mayfair. I, for one, am deeply grateful.”

Will nodded in acknowledgement but also had the good grace to flush a deep shade of red.

“I think the true reason you two are here all the time is because of the attention you get from the kitchen and house maids.” She glared at both Will and Dickie.

“No—.” Will started to protest but stopped at the sight of the crushed expression on her face.

“Um, these are actually for Her Grace.” The duke made his excuses along with a hasty exit at the growing tension in their voices.

“Now Olivia, you know that’s not true…” Dickie tried to defend their friend and calm his sister.

“Don’t ‘Olivia’ me. You’re a couple of useless saunterers and satyrs.”

“Says the woman who is being cosseted and readied for a grand ball.” Dickie ducked just in time to avoid being hit by a chocolate biscuit expertly lobbed at him by his sister. He caught the missile before it hit the tiles of the kitchen floor, popped it into his mouth, and turned a mocking smile on his sister.

Without waiting to empty his mouth of said biscuit, he taunted her. “You’re fishing for a lord with whom to spend the rest of your life. Why do you care what Will does?”

Olivia sucked in a sharp breath and could not believe she was on the verge of not only tears, but a full-blown sobbing session. She raced out of the kitchen without a further word, leaving two men with their mouths hanging open.

* * *

When Olivia stormed out of the kitchen, Will’s heart retreated so far inside him, he was afraid the cowardly, thumping thing had abandoned him. What had he done? What could he possibly have said that would have sent her racing away?

When his heart finally reappeared, the panic in his gut set the fickle thing to pumping in double time. He’d spent years expecting to see Olivia’s beautiful face again with those sparkling blue sapphire eyes. And now he’d said or done something to make her hate him and run off.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. If she knew what he was keeping from her, she’d despise him at whole new level.

Dickie turned a puzzled gaze on him. “What in blazes did we do?” He licked at the remaining crumbs on his lips and mused, “Women, who knows what goes on inside their heads?”

“Olivia’s not like that,” Will interrupted.

“What do you mean?” Dickie swept an arm encompassing the maids who were beginning to crowd around them at the table. “She’s jealous. She’s probably set her cap at you.”

“She has not . Take it back.”

“Cor…for a tall lunk who’s supposed to be a smart Peeler, you’re as dense as a pile of cabbages on a farm cart.”

* * *

Her Grace listened patiently while her thick-headed, albeit gorgeous, husband related how concerned he was about the young friends who’d invaded their kitchen to raid Cook’s supply of fresh, warm chocolate biscuits.

“Do you suppose Miss Jones is having a fit of nerves over the ball? Should we change the date to give her more time to prepare?”

She reached over and lovingly used her thumb to remove a smudge of chocolate from his chin. “Too late. All the invitations have been sent and most have replied already. In spite of their haughty disapproval of our, um alliance, the entire ton seems inordinately fascinated with what goes on in this house.”

“I hate to see those young friends at odds, though. They’ve always seemed so loyal to each other.”

“Percy—stop worrying.” She favored him with an indulgent smile. “I suspect this has something to do with Olivia’s single-minded approach to life. She’s spent all of her nineteen years worrying about survival. This is probably the first time she’s had hours to herself to contemplate her life. Perhaps she’s never realized her true feelings for her old friend.”

Percy finished the thought for her. “And now all the attention he’s being showered with by our, um, staff has forced her to see anew how important he is to her.”

She pointed an elegant finger toward the duke and nodded her head in assent. “You’re not as muddle-headed as you seem. And we’re going to have the safest mansion in Mayfair for the near future.”

He gave her a wolfish smile whilst taking her finger into his mouth for a long, leisurely suck.

She gave a small moan of pleasure and pulled him over to a low settee along the wall of her office.

* * *

Olivia pulled on a warm pelisse over her morning dress, settled her stylish, towering, wide-brimmed hat onto her head with a plethora of hatpins and headed out into the park at the center of Berkley Square. She hadn’t ventured more than few steps beyond the gate when Dickie appeared at her side. He was like a wraith. You never knew he was there until he was too close to warn off. But she supposed that was why he was such a good spy.

“Livvy, you know I’m right.”

“About what?” Her tone came out a tad sharper than she’d like.

“You need to find a good husband, a gentleman who’ll make sure you never have to worry again.”

“Since when are you the best judge of what’s right for me?”

“Since the night we found you under that pile of refuse in a Seven Dials alley. Will was with us then. He’s with us now, and he knows I’m right too.”

“So, two out of three of us think you’re right. That still doesn’t make it right.”

“What are you saying? Don’t tell me you’ve set your cap at Will?”

With that, she turned and used the pointed end of her parasol to thrust hard onto the top of one of Dickie’s boots.

“Ow—why’d you poke me?” He moved away from her to the far side of the path.

“Because that seemed to be the only way to get your attention.”

“I’m listening.”

“I haven’t decided yet if I want to spend the rest of my life with some high-in-the-instep ‘gentleman.’”

“I knew it…you do want Will instead.” He doffed his bowler hat and slapped it hard against his trousers. “Are you saying you want a man whose whole life, night and day, is devoted to work with the Peelers? What kind of marriage would that be? With the small amount of blunt he makes, you’d be back running the laundry at Goodrum’s before I could say ‘cock o’ the walk.’”

She turned on him, furiously windmilling her fists at his chest.

“Now wot?” He gently took both of her gloved hands in his.

“What’s wrong with my running a profitable business like the laundry? Why wouldn’t I want to go back?”

As the first tear spilled down her cheek, her brother ceased his “helpful” speech and simply took her in his arms while she sobbed out her frustrations. The thing was, she had no idea why she was frustrated. Will was the best friend besides her brother that she’d ever had. Why would she marry him and spoil that?