Chapter 5
Olivia sat at the long, rectangular dining table, the low murmur of conversation swirling around her like distant music.
Yet her thoughts remained fixed on her mother’s voice, those sharp, sensible words still ringing in her mind: You mustn’t spend so much time with Evander. It will only encourage gossip.
A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. She had loved Evander as a friend for as long as she could remember.
He had been her companion in childhood, her confidant in youth, and her solace through recent trials.
But now… the world demanded more caution.
For his sake—for his future—she would have to do the unthinkable and step away from their friendship.
The decision pressed on her heart like a stone. Tonight will be the last, she resolved. I shall cherish this evening, one final memory before I sever the tie.
With that melancholy thought, she forced herself to look at him.
Evander sat next to her, the candlelight emphasizing his handsome face.
His strong jaw, straight nose, and that unruly, dark hair of his—still curling at the nape of his neck as it always had.
She remembered all too well how, as a girl, she had once laughed and tangled her fingers in those curls.
She quickly averted her gaze, heart tightening.
Dosia’s voice broke through her reverie. “Olivia? Are you well? You have been staring at your venison for quite some time.”
Startled, Olivia blinked. Her tongue, quicker than her judgment, betrayed her. “I was merely thinking of Evander’s hair,” she replied without a thought. “It is… curly.”
Laughter rippled down the table as Evander looked up, amused. “Indeed,” he said. “I inherited the curls from my mother.”
“I like it,” Olivia said, and immediately regretted the words.
“Good.” His blue eyes gleamed with teasing warmth. “Should I return the compliment? Your hair is... rather blonde.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “It is, but it is far from curly.”
“And yet, I am exceedingly fond of it.”
“You only say that because I complimented your hair,” she countered.
He leaned towards her, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “This is a delightful game. What else do you like about me?”
Olivia shook her head. “You are being insufferably cocky tonight.”
He waggled his brows playfully. “You started it, Livy. I am merely seeing it through.”
“Now I regret saying anything,” she stated. “I hereby retract my compliment.”
“You cannot. You’ve said it. It is mine to keep.”
“Then I unsay it.”
Evander leaned back in triumph. “Too late. My admiration for your hair stands unshaken.”
At the head of the table, Richard cleared his throat. “As diverting as this conversation is, I was inquiring about Westmere’s opinion on the bill I am drafting.”
Evander immediately grew serious. “Yes, of course. I am in full support of your efforts. I intend to encourage my father to vote in favor.”
“I hope so,” Richard said, lifting his glass. “It will take every ounce of influence to see it through Parliament.”
Dosia placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “I think it is admirable that you are seeking to raise the working ages in the workhouses.”
“The Tories do not agree,” Richard replied with a grim smile. “They argue that the foundling homes are already overburdened.”
“You will persuade them,” Dosia said with quiet conviction.
Their gazes locked. “I love you.”
“And I you,” she replied softly.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Can the two of you manage three seconds without professing your love?”
Richard arched a brow. “Why does it trouble you so, Sister?”
“I care for Evander,” she said with forced nonchalance. “But I do not see the need to parade it about the table.”
Evander tilted his head. “I would not object if you declared your affection—once or twice.”
Olivia sighed. “Very well. I care for you.”
“That sounded dreadfully insincere. Do try again,” Evander responded.
With exaggerated patience, she repeated, “I care for you.”
Evander laughed outright. “No. I detect sarcasm. You must woo me with greater sincerity.”
Olivia seized her wine glass. “I require a drink.” She took a generous sip.
Dosia interjected with a laugh. “Come now, let us spare Olivia further torment. I fear she will finish the entire bottle.”
“Thank you, Dosia,” Olivia said with a grateful smile, setting her glass down. “Perhaps we might choose a new topic?”
Dosia glanced down the table. “I do hope your mother feels better by morning.”
Olivia waved a hand in front of her. “She has taken laudanum for her headache. She will sleep well enough.”
Richard leaned forward. “What shall we do tomorrow? A ride through Hyde Park? Or an evening at Vauxhall Gardens?”
Dosia’s eyes lit up. “I vote for Vauxhall.”
“Very well,” Richard said. “After we attend to the accounts.”
“Two things to anticipate,” Dosia said with a pleased smile.
Richard turned to Evander and explained, “Dosia often assists me with the ledgers.”
“I think it is brilliant,” Evander declared. “Why should gentlemen hoard all the enjoyment of balancing sums?”
Olivia furrowed her brows. “You do not object to a woman working on estate accounts?”
“Not in the least,” Evander said. “If memory serves, Dosia managed her family’s estate admirably before her marriage.”
“She did,” Richard confirmed with pride. “And continues to do so.”
“Eventually,” Dosia added, “I hope to entrust my sister with our family’s estate after she is released from prison.”
Evander’s expression softened. “How long will that be?”
“Four months,” Dosia replied. “She was convicted of vagrancy, though Richard intervened and persuaded the judge towards leniency.”
“That was generous of you,” Evander said.
Dosia bobbed her head in agreement. “Only with Olivia’s blessing.”
Evander turned to Olivia. “That was most gracious.”
Olivia shrugged. “Lucinda returned my dowry and sent an apology. It seemed sincere enough. I am not one to nurse grudges. Besides, I do believe four months among rats is punishment enough.”
“The rats outnumber the prisoners three to one,” Richard said grimly.
Olivia shuddered. “But I was adamant that Lucinda could not live with us upon her release.”
“Entirely fair,” Dosia agreed.
Just then, the footmen stepped forward, whisking away their plates and setting bowls of pudding before each person.
Olivia reached for her spoon and, after a moment’s thought, glanced at Evander. “You mentioned you wished to speak with me?”
Evander hesitated, then said, “I would prefer to do so in private.”
Olivia took a generous bite of pudding, swallowed, and met his gaze. “I am ready.”
“Very well,” Evander said, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Shall we take a turn about your gardens?”
Olivia pushed back her chair. “We may, but I should warn you that the birds may not prove welcoming.”
“Oh?”
“I threw a pillow at one of them this morning,” she shared. “The wretched creature insisted upon serenading me from my windowsill at an unholy hour.”
“I think I can withstand a few disgruntled birds.”
“You should not be so cavalier,” Olivia replied. “If they were ever to rise up in revolt, we would surely be outnumbered.”
Rising to stand, Evander extended his hand towards her. “Then I shall take my chances… though I can say I wouldn’t mind defending you from a flock of murderous sparrows.”
Her lips curved as she allowed him to assist her to her feet. “My knight in shining—”
“But no armor,” he said. “I have a nickel allergy. I get a terrible rash, and it is rather unsightly.”
She laughed. “No armor, then.”
As they started to leave the dining room, Richard’s voice called after them. “Dosia and I will be watching you from the drawing room window.”
“Why?” Olivia asked.
“To ensure you are properly chaperoned,” came his reply.
“Very wise,” Olivia said with a wry smile, slipping her hand into the crook of Evander’s arm. “That way I shall not be tempted to run off to Gretna Green.” She flashed a grin over her shoulder. “Oh, wait—I already did that.”
Richard gave her a disapproving look. “We are joking about that now?”
“I am,” Olivia responded. “You are still recovering.” Then, with a conspiratorial glance at Evander, she added, “Come along. Let’s do something scandalous.”
“Olivia…” Richard growled a warning.
Once they passed beyond the threshold of the dining room, Olivia leaned towards him. “It is such fun to provoke my brother,” she confessed with a mischievous smile. “But do not worry, your virtue is perfectly safe with me.”
Yet Evander did not return her playfulness. She felt the subtle tension in his frame beneath her fingers as they strolled towards the gardens’ doors.
Sensing the shift in mood, Olivia glanced up at him. “You are unusually stiff at the moment,” she remarked. “Is something troubling you?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he said, too quickly.
“You just seem… rather tense.”
“I am not tense.”
She decided to try another approach. “How is your mother faring?”
At that, his expression faltered, revealing the weary strain beneath. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.”
“And how are you?”
A footman, discreet and silent, opened the back door leading to the veranda and followed at a respectful distance as they stepped into the cool night air. The faint scent of jasmine drifted on the breeze. They moved down a gravel path edged with clipped box hedges and summer blooms.
They walked in silence until Evander spoke. “I am afraid of letting everyone down.”
Olivia’s heart clenched. She halted, gently tugging his arm until he stopped and faced her. His features were shadowed in the moonlight, but the vulnerability in his gaze was plain.
“That isn’t possible,” she said, but he shook his head.