Chapter Thirty-Six
The path was covered in a layer of frost that glistened in the winter sun, forming tiny diamonds on the ground. Olivia’s breath misted in the air in short, sharp puffs as she approached the forest, Nicola by her side. Before they reached the tree line, she paused and caught her breath.
“Are you well, Olivia?” Nicola said.
“I’m just a little dizzy.”
“You’re pregnant.”
Nicola’s expression hardened, and Olivia shivered. “How do you know?”
“I’ve suspected it for some time. Susie said something about your bedsheets, and—”
Olivia’s head throbbed as Nicola’s voice sharpened, and she raised her hand. “Nicola, I know we’re friends, but I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Of course.” Nicola’s smile returned and she offered her hand. “Are you afraid?”
“Yes.” Another wave of nausea rippled through Olivia’s stomach, and she took the proffered hand. Nicola curled her fingers around Olivia’s wrist.
“Does Devereaux know?”
“I’ve not told him,” Olivia said. “How can I, when he made it clear that he didn’t want a child?”
“I can still help,” Nicola said, glancing over her shoulder toward the house. “Old Mrs. Gibbs is very discreet. She’ll have something to end a pregnancy as well as prevent one.”
“No!” Olivia withdrew her hand.
“You could save yourself the prospect of death,” Nicola said. “Don’t you recall what I said about Ma Lucy?”
“Please desist,” Olivia said. “If you continue, I must return to the house.”
Nicola let out a sigh. “Forgive me. I’m only thinking of you.” She caught Olivia’s hand and kissed it. “I wouldn’t want to lose my friend. You’ve been so kind to Susie—kinder than any other lady would be in your position, especially considering she’s not the best of maids.”
“Susie’s an excellent lady’s maid.”
“That’s generous of you to say. Come—we’ll speak no more of it.
” Nicola gestured to her basket. “Mrs. Groves has given me all manner of good things for our picnic, and I asked her to pack some of her lemonade as well, seeing as I know how fond you are of it.” She linked her arm with Olivia’s, and they entered the forest.
Almost at once, the air was filled with the sounds of the forest—the rush of the wind through the trees and the rustling of woodland creatures investigating the undergrowth.
The faint hammering of a woodpecker echoed in the distance, followed by a squeal—some creature caught in the jaws of a predator.
The sun penetrated further now that most of the trees had shed their leaves, illuminating the forest floor with patches of light.
Olivia thrust her foot into a pile of leaves, kicking them up into the air.
Nicola followed suit, then threw back her head and laughed.
“I love this forest!” she cried. “I’m so fortunate to have you as a friend. Do forgive my earlier words.”
“They’re forgotten,” Olivia said.
“You’re like a sister to me,” Nicola said, “dearer to me than Susie. I hope, one day, I might be able to call you sister.”
“But Jacob doesn’t—”
“Jacob doesn’t what?” Nicola said, a sharp edge to her voice.
“Has he asked you to marry him?”
Nicola’s eyes glistened and Olivia’s heart ached at their expression. How cruel Jacob’s words had been at breakfast! Didn’t he realize how much Nicola loved him?
“He wants to marry me, but he needs…”
“Encouragement?” Olivia suggested.
“Convincing,” Nicola said. “I fear he thinks I’m not good enough for him. Did you see him at breakfast this morning?”
Olivia nodded.
“Did he say anything?”
Olivia averted her gaze. “I-it wouldn’t be right for him to discuss his feelings for you in front of me. Not when he knows you’re my friend.”
“I suppose not,” came the reply. “But I fear he thinks I’m too far beneath him, especially now he’s spending more time in the house. He’s Devereaux’s heir. What would an earl want with a farmer’s daughter like me?”
Olivia placed a hand over her belly. “He may not be the heir for much longer.”
Nicola tilted her head to one side. For a heartbeat, Olivia’s stomach cramped with fear at the expression in her eyes.
“Perhaps your child will be a girl. And, of course, not all women…” She shook her head. “I’m talking nonsense. Shall we stop to eat? I know a perfect spot where the ground is covered in wildflowers.”
“Flowers at this time of year?”
Nicola frowned. “Yes. Come on.”
She stepped up the pace, and Olivia followed. The rushing sound of the wind in the trees deepened, forming musical notes.
“Are we nearing the river?” Olivia asked. “We ought to be careful.”
“It’s quite safe,” Nicola said. “I know this forest well.”
Olivia followed, and the rushing water grew louder. Then the path veered to the right, and she found herself on the edge of the ravine. She caught her breath and stepped back, but Nicola moved toward the edge and leaned over.
“Careful!” Olivia said. “You might fall.”
“Nonsense!” Nicola replied. “Come and see the flowers. They grow among the rocks, just below the edge.”
Olivia approached the edge and peered over. Her vision blurred as she saw the water at the bottom of the ravine, boiling and swirling like a live animal eager for its prey. Nausea rippled over her, and she leaned back.
“I-I can’t see any flowers.”
“Look closer.”
Nicola’s voice hardened until it carried an edge of steel. Olivia turned to respond, and her gut cramped in horror. Her friend’s face was twisted with hatred, her eyes glittering with spite, mouth set in a hard line.
“What are—” Olivia began, then broke off as Nicola gripped her by the arms.
“Miserable whore,” she said, her voice a low snarl. “You think you can destroy my hopes? Jacob was going to marry me until you started flashing your cunny at him. How do I know the brat in your belly isn’t his?”
“I don’t love Jacob—I love Charles!”
Nicola let out a cold laugh. “Devereaux isn’t the sort of man to love another. You’ve told me that many times—he doesn’t even want your brat!”
“H-he cares…”
“Don’t be a fool! All you’ve done since you came here is mewl and whine about how your husband doesn’t love you because you’re some peasant’s bastard who trapped him into marriage. He’ll thank me when you’re gone, and so will Jacob.”
Nicola tightened her grasp on Olivia’s arms and pushed her backward. Olivia screamed as her footing began to slip, and she clawed at her assailant. But the ground crumbled beneath her feet, and her ankle turned on a stone.
Just like the day she’d fallen down the stairs when she’d lost her footing…
…when Nicola had stood, watching, an expression in her eyes that Olivia hadn’t been able to identify until now.
Loathing.
Then Nicola bared her teeth and thrust forward, shoving Olivia back until she could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet, only air.
“Sweet Lord—no!”
Olivia reached out, arms flailing in desperation for something—anything—to hold on to. She clawed at Nicola’s sleeve, but it was too late, and she toppled over the precipice, calling the name of the man she loved.
“Charles!”
Images flashed before her mind—her husband’s dark gaze, the joy in his eyes as she placed his newborn son in his arms…
But what little hope she might have harbored was now gone forever.
Her husband was not there to save her. She was going to die.