Chapter 1 #3
With a sigh, she turned and made her way home. She entered through the front gate and ascended the gravel drive. The front door opened just before she reached it, revealing Sterling, the ever-composed butler.
“My lady,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I trust your outing was pleasant?”
Olivia handed Finnegan over with a resigned expression. “Will you see that he’s fed? I believe he’s positively famished after our long, exhausting promenade.”
“Of course. I shall do so at once,” Sterling said before departing from the entry hall to do her bidding.
Alone in the entry hall, Olivia paused. Her gaze drifted upward to the grand staircase, but she turned instead towards the back of the house, heading for her brother’s study.
As she passed by ancestral portraits, she noted how each solemn face seemed to stare down at her with equal parts judgment and curiosity.
The door to Richard’s study stood open. She approached, but just as she stepped forward, a giggle floated out.
Olivia rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Newlyweds.”
Undeterred, she entered. Richard and Dosia were seated side by side behind his desk. Ledgers and papers were strewn in front of them, but they seemed to have eyes only for each other.
“Please tell me I’m interrupting something inappropriate,” Olivia drawled.
Both turned at the sound of her voice. Only Dosia had the grace to look the slightest bit abashed.
“Sister,” Richard said, smiling, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”
She sank into one of the chairs opposite the desk. “I saw Evander in Hyde Park just now.”
At once, Richard’s expression turned grave. “How is he?”
“Not well,” Olivia replied honestly. “He’s… unraveling.”
Turning to Dosia, Richard explained, “His brother—Viscount Westmere—died at sea, along with his friend, Lord Harwood.”
Dosia gasped softly, her eyes widening. “Lord Harwood… not the same one who—?”
“Yes, the very same,” Olivia said before fixing a pointed look at Richard. “You knew about Bryon and didn’t tell me.”
He winced. “I didn’t think it was my place to do so.”
Olivia shook her head. “You should have told me.”
“How are you holding up?” Dosia interjected.
With a small, dispassionate shrug, Olivia replied, “It hardly matters now.”
Dosia’s eyes narrowed with quiet sympathy. “You loved Lord Harwood once. It’s all right to mourn him.”
But Olivia didn’t want sympathy. Not now. Not when her thoughts were so muddled and her emotions felt like distant echoes of what they once were. “Can we speak of something else?”
Richard seized the opportunity with evident relief. “As it happens, we were just considering taking a break from the accounts.”
“We were?” Dosia asked in surprise.
“Yes,” he replied, his lips twitching, “we have that… important meeting to attend. Urgently.”
Dosia’s laugh was light and indulgent. “How could I have forgotten?”
Olivia stood, shaking her head. “You two are incorrigible. You’ve only just returned from your honeymoon, and you act as though you’re still on it.”
A new voice chimed from the doorway.
“Leave them be, Olivia,” her mother said with a smile. “They’ve only been married a few weeks.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Richard said graciously, helping Dosia to her feet. “We’ll see you both at dinner.”
Olivia glanced out the window. “I swear, if this keeps up, I shall enter a convent for the foreseeable future.”
“There’s no need for theatrics, dear,” her mother responded. “We simply need to find you a new hobby—or perhaps a new scandal—to keep you occupied.”
“No more scandals,” Richard declared. “I daresay this family has weathered enough of them to last a generation.”
Olivia walked towards the door. “Very well. I suppose I shall have to find some new way to occupy my time until I officially cross the threshold into spinsterhood.”
“You are not a spinster,” her mother remarked.
“Not yet,” Olivia allowed, pausing with her hand on the doorframe.
“But I am five and twenty and quite unattached. And now, with the added humiliation of having been deceived into marrying a woman…” She gave a mirthless laugh.
“Well, let us simply say that I have provided Society with ample fodder.”
“Olivia…” her mother began, the familiar note of gentle reprimand in her voice.
But Olivia didn’t wish to hear it—not the sympathy, reassurances, or delicate encouragement to hold her chin high and endure the snubs with grace. There was no polite way to reframe what had happened. She had been tricked—utterly, spectacularly—and the scandal was well deserved.
Before her mother could continue, Olivia lifted her chin. “I think I shall lie down before dinner. The fresh air has quite exhausted me.”
Without waiting for a reply, she stepped out of the study, grateful for the reprieve.
She was pleased for Richard and Dosia—truly, she was.
But the way they looked at each other and spoke with quiet affection and shared laughter…
it stirred something raw within her. A longing she didn’t quite know how to name anymore.
She had thought she had found that kind of love with Lord Harwood.
But he had chosen someone else, and the wound still throbbed faintly beneath her composed exterior.
Her brief, disastrous marriage to Lucinda had only further cemented the belief that she was not meant for love. At least not the kind that lasted.
Perhaps she should get a cat or two and embrace her spinsterhood.