Chapter Eleven #4

“To wherever it was that we went.” She drew her hand back and chose one of the cold toast points. “I was a child. I cannot say more than that. I don’t know where I was or where I was taken. It was a very small world and was not made significantly larger by being taken beyond the convent walls.”

“Did you go alone?”

“Alone. In pairs. Never more than three. I told you once that I went willingly that first time. Do you remember?”

“I remember.”

“My greatest shame is that I wanted to be chosen. There were presents afterward. Sweets. Ribbons. Gloves. Lace. Pretty bonnets and slippers. I was envious of what I saw other girls receiving. I had nothing from home. No letters. No packages. I learned quickly that I should never expect to receive anything from my family, so when girls returned from their carriage rides and showed the gifts they’d been allowed to take, I wanted the same. ”

Griffin thought of his sisters. He imagined them elbowing one another out of the way, leaping across prostrate bodies to reach the waiting carriage first. They would have been eager, even greedy, and they would have been made to pay dearly, just as Olivia had been made to pay.

But for the grace of God, there went Jenny, Kate, and Juliet. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I know it, and yet it does not always seem so.”

“That is because when you reflect upon it you think you had a choice. You didn’t. Never once. Not even at the first.”

Griffin’s implacable features were softened by Olivia’s tears. She knuckled them away impatiently. She required him to be uncompromising in the position he took and in the position he took it from. She wanted to be—needed to be—convinced. “How can you know?”

“You would know it as well but for the fact that it happened to you.”

“I was called out to one of the carriages many times.”

“Do you say that to punish yourself?”

“I say it so you will know what I am.”

“I know what you are, Olivia, and it is not what you think they made you. You said you were not a whore, but I am no longer certain that you believe it.”

“Their gifts paid for me.”

“Their gifts paid for your silence. That is what they purchased. They could have had you for nothing.”

Olivia simply stared at him. As often as she’d drawn back the curtain on her past, she had never seen it in such a light before.

Watching her, the left side of Griffin’s mouth edged upward.

He had managed to trip her up in the best possible way.

He could see her taking in the view, examining it from this new perspective.

Her splendid green eyes were narrowed just enough to sharpen her glance, and her mouth, her very tasty mouth, remained parted on an indrawn breath.

A curling tendril of flame-red hair fell over her brow and dipped low enough to hook her lashes.

She thrust her lower jaw forward and blew up, the action a mixture of irritation and impatience, and dislodged the curl.

It settled at the corner of her eye and she allowed it to remain there.

“It makes an awful sort of sense when I hear you say it,” she told him. “It makes me think that the time will come when I’ll be able to speak of them.”

“I would not be at all surprised.”

Olivia prepared to choose another piece of toast and saw that her plate was empty. She could not recall that she’d eaten any of it. Similarly, her cup was drained.

“Hungry?” Griffin asked, divining her thoughts.

“Ravenous.”

He stood. “Then attention must be paid.”

Olivia did not anticipate that Griffin would want to accompany her on her walk.

She was standing at the front door, fastening the frog closure on her mantle while she waited for Mason to reappear with his gloves in hand, when Griffin came down the stairs dressed for the out of doors.

Her eyebrows rose in tandem. Too late she realized that her expression was not simply one of surprise but hinted at the fact that she found him indecently handsome to look upon.

His quick half-grin made it clear that he’d had a hint of her thoughts and approved of the turn they’d taken.

Olivia pivoted, giving him her shoulder. He had a cheval glass in his bedchamber and therefore no need to view his reflection again in her eyes. She thought she heard him chuckle as he came abreast of her, but when she cast him a suspicious sideways glance he was perfectly stoic.

It was no good. She sighed. “You have the profile of a Roman god,” she said, “and that is all I am prepared to say on the matter of your exceptionally fine countenance.”

She was already on the lip of the second step by the time Griffin caught up with her, and this time she was quite certain he was laughing. A smile edged her mouth, deepened, and in another moment she joined him.

They walked to Moorhead Street, turned, separated briefly as they dodged a stack of crates that indicated a move to or away from the district, then made a diagonal crossing in the direction of the park.

Griffin helped Olivia adjust her sable-trimmed hood as the wind kicked up and gave her the lee side of his body.

Thus sheltered, she was able to speak without the accompaniment of chattering teeth, though she liked their companionable silence well enough. He was the one who finally breached it.

“I went to see my sisters yesterday,” he said. “After I spoke to Gardner and we agreed that he would bring Elaine to London, I decided that calling upon my sisters was in order.”

“To inform them?” asked Olivia.

“To warn them. They do not know the particulars of why my marriage collapsed, but they have supported me in their own way. That means they make free with such criticisms and advice as they believe will help me and form a protective phalanx about me when anyone outside the family is wont to do the same.”

“I do not suppose they could demonstrate their great affection for you in any better manner.”

“I suppose not, no.”

“Nor you for them. You show considerable tolerance. What could very well be an annoyance becomes a source of amusement.”

He smiled because she understood so completely.

It astonished when one considered that she had so little experience with family herself, but she had neatly defined the workings of his.

“Jenny was rather less disagreeable than Kate or Juliet upon hearing my news, but she is the one who will insist that they meet to strategize. Jenny favors strategy. Kate and Juliet have a tendency to simply charge into the fray, so she must save them from themselves. At least that is how she explains the fact that she has always been their leader.”

“They sound formidable.”

“Amazons. Brave men have been known to quiver in their presence.” He drew Olivia closer as they stepped aside to make way for a nursemaid with two young children in tow.

The children, rosy-cheeked and giggling, seemed oblivious to the elements, while their nurse walked with her head down and shoulders hunched, oblivious to everything else.

“Have you nieces and nephews?” Olivia asked when the trio moved on and they resumed walking.

“Five. Kate has twin girls; Juliet, a boy and an infant girl; and Jenny, another girl. I had not seen any of them since Mathilda’s christening.

She’s Juliet’s baby. It seemed like a good idea to spend time with them yesterday.

With Elaine’s arrival imminent, it is unclear when the opportunity will present itself again. ”

Olivia knew it was foolish to think they could not speak of his wife, but she was in a foolish frame of mind and wanted to enjoy it awhile longer, damn the consequences of dreaming while she walked, and please herself by stealing glances at the man who’d been her fierce and tender lover this night past.

She did not fail to notice that he had fallen silent also, and the cast of it was darker than her own. She let him have at the problem that set his mind to brooding so that she might indulge in her selfish, simple thoughts a few moments longer.

“I instructed Gardner to escort Elaine directly from Bath, where she has been residing, to the hell,” Griffin said as they began their second circuit of the park.

Like an army of foot soldiers waiting for inspection, the tall oaks stood at attention on either side of the promenade path.

He gave them no heed, turning to gauge Olivia’s reaction instead.

“Is that wise?” Aware of his regard, Olivia schooled her features and strove for a tone that was more neutral than indifferent. “She will not thank you for it.”

“There is no arrangement I can make that will garner her approval. I am under no illusions that she will return willingly. I have prepared Gardner to anticipate the very worst sort of behavior from her.”

Olivia could only imagine how lowering that must have been for him. She nodded jerkily, understanding. “Perhaps Mr. Gardner will not be tempted.”

“Oh, I am quite certain he will be tempted, but more in the way of wanting to stuff her in a trunk and shove it from a bridge. Gardner has the good fortune to be firmly set in his marriage and deeply in love with his wife.” He paused, frowning as an unpleasant thought occurred to him.

“But then Ulysses had Penelope waiting for him when he succumbed to the call of the sirens.”

Olivia laid her hand gently on his forearm. The restraint was not to stay his steps, but to stay his thoughts. “He will not return to Bath alone, will he?”

“No. I have some concerns for the men who accompany him, but he assures me none of them will be alone with her.” He looked down at her gloved hand, then at her. “You think I am making too much of it.”

Her faint smile was gently chiding. “You alluded to Homer.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed. “It was kind of you not to pick up a stick and beat me with it.”

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