Chapter Four #5
The valet cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’m not certain that…” He did not continue, his voice trailing off as Breckenridge deigned to open one eye and spear him with a disbelieving glance. “Never say she means to refuse the gift.”
Mason simply shifted his weight from one polished boot to the other.
Griffin cursed under his breath as he pushed his legs over the side of the chaise and sat up.
He consulted his fob watch. “My frock coat, Mason. You may show Miss Cole in on the half hour.” That would allow him time enough to collect himself, though perhaps a more apt description would have been to prepare for battle.
Olivia demonstrated none of the cautious deliberation that marked Mason’s entry just twelve minutes earlier. She stepped up to his desk, planting herself opposite Breckenridge, and came directly to the point.
“I cannot accept the wardrobe,” she said. “You cannot insist that I should.”
“What a patently wrong-headed thing to say. I can, and I do.” He looked her up and down.
She was wearing a heavy, blood red velvet robe that he recognized as one of the garments that had been delivered only this morning.
The color did not flatter her complexion, but the sleeves and hem had already been let out to accommodate her long-limbed figure.
He observed that she’d rather ruthlessly closed the robe all the way to her throat and tightly belted the braided cord at her waist, though whether this was in preservation of her modesty or an act of self-abuse he was not prepared to say.
“That robe was among the things that were sent to your room, was it not?”
“Yes.”
“And it seems you have accepted it, so how can you say otherwise?”
“I haven’t accepted it. It’s been forced upon me. All my clothes were removed.”
“I believe it was the consensus of Truss and Mason that they were hopelessly damaged by the smoke.”
“It doesn’t matter. They were my clothes. You had no right.” Willing herself not to cry, Olivia shook her head and bit hard into her lower lip. The pain did not keep her chin from quivering. “We will never be able to repay the debt if you mean to increase it at every turn.”
“Increase it? How? I wasn’t aware that I had.”
“Not aware?” He could not be so obtuse? “First it was the new outer garments so that I might take my daily walk. Mr. Mason refused to return my pelisse, bonnet, and gloves.”
“Did he?”
“You know he did. He would not do so unless instructed by you.”
Unperturbed, Griffin allowed, “You could be right.”
“There is also the matter of my meals.”
“Are they not satisfactory?”
“I am referring to their cost. And the books. I shouldn’t wonder that you mean to exact a lending fee.”
“I shouldn’t wonder.”
“And I must account for damage to my room. The fire was not my fault, but neither was it yours. I know repairs are already under way.”
“They certainly are.” He had good reason to know that the carpenters hammered while he tried to sleep. The hours for the craftsmen were not at all compatible with the hours he kept.
“The cost must be considerable,” she said.
Griffin pressed his steepled fingers under his chin. He knew himself to be both curious and amused, though was careful to let neither show. Carefully neutral, he said, “Let us say it is not inconsiderable.”
Olivia’s mouth flattened. He made a distinction so subtle as to be unimportant. She pressed on, determined to make him see reason. “And now you present me with a wardrobe that I did not ask for and do not want and include the services of a seamstress to made certain every garment fits.”
“There would be no point, don’t you agree, to present you with clothes that you cannot possibly wear.”
“The point is I cannot wear them at all.”
“Why? Was Mrs. McCutcheon unable to make the alterations? My sisters are not generally wrong about matters of fashion. They have all spoken favorably of her skills. Kate and Juliet in particular frequent her shop.”
“You know she is perfectly satisfactory.”
“Then did you fail to cooperate with her?”
“No, of course not. She was merely acting on your directive, and as you were not disposed to see me earlier to put a stop to the nonsense, I allowed myself to be pinned and poked and prodded.”
Griffin detected his valet’s fine hand in managing to bring the thing about. Mason had most certainly steered Olivia away from confronting him at the outset, giving Mrs. McCutcheon ample time to apply her talents to tailoring the wardrobe.
“Are the clothes in any way unsatisfactory?” asked Griffin.
“Only in that they are unwanted.”
Griffin’s hands dropped to the arms of his chair. “We are at something of an impasse, I believe. I have decided that you shall have them.”
“Did you not hear me say that we cannot afford them?”
“We? You’ve said that before. You do not owe me a farthing.”
Olivia was not deceived by his apparent largesse. “And if Alastair does not return?”
“Have you changed your mind? Do you think that’s likely now?” He held up one hand to stave off her reply. “Don’t trouble yourself to answer that. If you deny it, I don’t know that I would believe you. It is better that we just wait and see what tomorrow brings. And the day after that. And so on.”
“His debt is also mine,” she said softly. “That is the way of things between us.” She imagined it was precisely what her brother was counting on.
Griffin could find no reason to question her sincerity, only her wisdom. Accepting responsibility for her brother’s foibles was foolish beyond measure. He shook his head, a barely perceptible movement that he masked further by tunneling his fingers through his hair.
“The clothes are a gift,” he said at last. “There was never any intention on my part to add their cost to what is owed me. Rest easy and have joy of them.”
Realizing that she was being summarily dismissed, Olivia required a moment to collect herself, then a moment longer to collect her thoughts.
“Is it a surfeit of arrogance that leaves you with no room for compassion?” She lifted one hand, palm out, in a gesture that mirrored his earlier one.
“No, don’t favor me with a reply. If you deny it, I don’t know that I will believe you. ”
She pivoted on slippered feet, giving him her very cold shoulder, and started toward the door.
It occurred to her that he might be moved to call her back but before she could consider how she might respond to that entreaty he was blocking her path.
She fairly vibrated in place as she drew up short to keep from stumbling into him.
Pressure built in her chest until she realized she was holding her breath. She let it out slowly.
It was Griffin who took a step back, though not a step aside. He made no attempt to reach for her. “You are not easily intimidated,” he said.
“Do you think so? I am not at all certain that’s true.”
“You hold your ground.”
“I make a small footprint. It is little enough to hold on to.”
His faint smile was edged with regret. “I have bullied you. Forgive me.” Now he stepped aside. “Won’t you sit down?”
Olivia hesitated.
“Please?”
She shook her head, afraid that she might finally give in to tears.
“Very well,” he said. “Naturally you are free to go.”
She did not mistake his meaning. She was free to go as far as her room. Her feet, though, remained rooted to the floor.
Griffin took advantage of her immobility to press his argument regarding the wardrobe. “I would have you accept the clothes, Miss Cole, as a favor to me. Someone should have use of them.”
“It seems I cannot make you understand,” she said. “They are gowns and dresses made for another woman, one who is not little more than a prisoner here.”
Griffin’s dark eyes took on a vaguely bitter cast. “As it happens, Miss Cole, they were made for my wife, but you will not be surprised to learn that she shared some part of your opinion. She was fond of pointing out that marriage to me was its own kind of prison.”