Chapter 6
Dressed in a pale yellow gown that complemented her fair complexion but did little to brighten her weary spirits, Olivia stepped from her bedchamber and into the quiet corridor.
The faint scent of lavender from her bath lingered in the air, though it had done little to soothe her restless mind.
She had scarcely slept since her thoughts were consumed by the proposal Evander had offered the night before.
It would be selfish to accept. She knew that. Yet the temptation gnawed at her resolve.
Marrying Evander would solve everything.
His name would shield her from Society’s censure.
The whispers would cease, and the weight of guilt pressing upon her heart might finally lift.
And she did love him, though not in the way a wife ought to love her husband.
He was her dearest friend, which only made the prospect of a marriage of convenience all the more troubling.
Could she sentence him to a lifetime of polite affection, knowing he deserved far more?
But oh, how easy it would be to say yes. A single word could erase the shame she had brought upon her family.
Descending the staircase with a hand lightly brushing the iron banister, Olivia came to an abrupt halt at the sight below. The entry hall was transformed—a riot of color and fragrance greeted her. Dozens of flower arrangements in crystal vases crowded the space, spilling onto tables and pedestals.
Sterling stood at the sideboard, deftly arranging yet another bouquet.
“Where did all these flowers come from?” Olivia asked, her voice edged with disbelief.
Sterling looked up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “They are all for you, my lady. They have been arriving steadily since this morning.”
Her brows rose. “All for me?”
He retrieved a card from among the blooms and handed it to her with a slight bow. “They are from Lord Westmere.”
Curious, Olivia took the card and read the familiar, teasing script: Say yes, and I will vanquish the bird that has been bothering you.
A soft laugh escaped her before she could stop it. It didn’t surprise her that Evander would remember the impudent bird that had plagued her windowsill.
Yes.
It would be so easy to say yes.
Before she could ponder further, Sterling reached down and produced a small brown box tied with a crimson string. “This package arrived with the flowers.”
Accepting it, Olivia slipped the string free and opened the lid. Nestled inside, rich and earthy in scent, were black truffles. Her breath caught. He remembered everything, even her fondness for these little treasures.
Her mother’s voice interrupted her reverie. “What is in the package?”
Olivia turned, revealing the box. “Truffles.”
A blank stare met her words. “Did you say truffles?”
“I did.” She offered a small smile. “Evander sent them. He… offered for me last night. This is his attempt to woo me.”
Her mother’s eyes widened with unguarded delight. “Evander offered for you?” she repeated breathlessly. “That is wonderful news!”
Olivia raised her hand. “I haven’t accepted yet.”
“Perhaps not, but you will,” her mother replied with certainty. “This is your chance to reclaim your place in Society.”
“I am aware. But can I truly trap him in a marriage of convenience?”
Her mother dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand. “Love can grow, my dear. And in time, it will. Now, we should begin planning a luncheon to celebrate.”
Olivia pressed her lips into a thin line. “Mother, you are getting ahead of yourself.”
“I am merely excited,” her mother said brightly. “Imagine it—you, the wife of Lord Westmere. An heir to an earldom. Society will have no choice but to welcome you back with open arms.”
With a small shake of her head, Olivia turned and headed for the dining room. She had heard enough. The decision had to be her own, free of her family’s hopes and expectations.
Inside, she found Dosia and Richard already at the table, engaged in a quiet conversation. Richard rose when he noticed her, but Olivia waved him back down.
Taking her seat, she placed the box of truffles beside her.
Richard arched a brow. “What have you there?”
“A gift from Evander,” she replied simply. “Truffles.”
A smirk tugged at her brother’s mouth. “Nothing says affection like a fungus.”
Dosia laughed. “Leave her be, Richard.”
“I do love truffles,” Olivia admitted, a wistful smile touching her lips. “I used to scour the woodlands near our country estate for them. When I found any, I would sneak them to my room and savor them in secret.”
“That is odd, Sister,” Richard said with amusement, though his tone was gentle.
Before she could respond, her mother swept into the room and claimed her place at the head of the table. “I think we should have a family meeting.”
Olivia groaned. “May I be excused from it?”
“Are you not family?” her mother countered.
“I am. But I already know where you all stand regarding my possible marriage to Evander.”
Her mother gave her an innocent smile. “I am only trying to help.”
A footman set a cup of chocolate before Olivia. She lifted it, the warmth seeping into her fingers. “Perhaps we could discuss something else.”
Dosia perked up. “Would you care to join us at Vauxhall Gardens this evening?”
“I would like that,” Olivia replied, welcoming the change of topic.
Richard interjected, “Perhaps we should invite Westmere, as well.”
Surprisingly, Olivia found herself unopposed to the idea. Evander had an uncanny ability to lift her mood and he could always make her laugh, even when she least expected it.
“I will ask him,” she said at last.
Satisfied, Richard returned to his newssheets.
Olivia, however, sipped her chocolate in thoughtful silence. The choice before her remained, as tempting as it was terrifying. And though her family clearly hoped for her to accept, the decision would be hers alone to make.
Dosia met Olivia’s gaze. “I trust you slept well?”
Olivia gave a weary smile. “Not particularly. I had a fitful night.” Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “I suppose that is to be expected when one is wrestling with an impossible decision.”
“That is hardly surprising,” Dosia agreed. “You are carrying a great deal on your shoulders. No one could expect a restful night under such circumstances.”
Richard lowered the newssheets he had been perusing. “It seems a simple decision to me.”
Dosia gave her husband a pointed look. “It may be simple in your mind, but it is not your decision to make.” Her voice was firm but kind. “Whatever choice Olivia makes, we will stand by her.”
Olivia’s throat tightened with gratitude, and she offered Dosia a faint smile. “Thank you. That means more to me than I can say.”
“Of course.” Dosia reached for her fork again. “Now, shall we plan something pleasant to occupy the morning? Would you care to visit the circulating library after breakfast? I find myself in desperate need of a new book or two.”
A welcome distraction. Just the thought of escaping into the world of stories brought a small measure of relief. “I would like that,” Olivia replied. “Very much.”
A companionable silence settled over the room as they resumed eating. The clatter of cutlery and the quiet rustle of paper were the only sounds.
Then, after a long moment, Richard let out a loud groan. “It would appear, dear sister, that you have made the newssheets… again.”
Olivia’s heart sank. “What is it this time?”
Richard folded the newssheets and handed it across the table. “Read it for yourself. It’s an article by Mr. Fairchild.”
Dread coiled in her stomach as she took the newssheets and scanned the article. The words blurred slightly as her eyes flew across the damning lines. Finally, she sighed heavily and set the newssheets down. “How in the blazes did Mr. Fairchild learn of Evander’s offer? It only happened last night.”
“Language, dear,” her mother admonished from her seat. “A genteel woman does not resort to such vulgar expressions.”
Olivia chose to ignore the rebuke, her gaze fixed on the offending article. “Now I have little choice in the matter. If I refuse Evander, my name—and our family’s—will be further dragged through the mud.”
“There are far worse fates than becoming a viscountess,” Richard remarked dryly.
Turning to Dosia, Olivia asked, “How did you know you wanted to marry my vexing brother?”
At once, Dosia’s expression softened. “I loved him,” she said. “The decision was easy. I would not have given up my independence for anyone else.”
“But would you have considered a marriage of convenience if you had not loved him as you ought?”
Dosia considered the question carefully. “No. I would not have,” she replied. “But everyone’s path is different. You must choose what is best for you, not what anyone else expects of you.”
A knot of dread twisted in Olivia’s chest. She leaned back in her chair, her posture sagging beneath the weight of her thoughts. “I fear there will be no future for me if I do not marry Evander.”
“There are worse things than becoming a spinster, you know,” Dosia remarked.
Richard reached across the table and gave his wife’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Stop trying to dissuade her from marrying Westmere,” he teased.
“I merely want Olivia to follow her heart,” Dosia replied.
The grandfather clock in the corner chimed the passing hour, the deep tones filling the room.
Dosia glanced towards Olivia. “Shall we be off to the circulating library?”
Grateful for the escape, Olivia pushed back her chair. “Yes, please. I believe I am in desperate need of a distraction.” She rose and reached for the box of truffles. “Let me put these in my bedchamber first.”
Richard eyed the box with amusement. “Why not give them to the cook? Then we could all enjoy them.”
Olivia grinned. “And deprive myself of the perfect midnight snack? I think not.”
Richard shook his head in mock resignation. “Very well. Keep your fungus.”