Chapter Twenty-Four
Olivia leaned her back against the wrought iron chair and tipped her head up, letting the sun warm her face beneath the brim of her straw hat. She’d come out into their little garden, hoping a bit of sunshine and fresh air would brighten her mood, but so far, it hadn’t helped much.
After Emmy left yesterday, Olivia had told Aunt Augusta of the betrothal, concerned it would lead to a row of some sort. She needn’t have worried, though. There was a brief flare of disappointment in her aunt’s eyes, but she’d given no voice to the feelings. Instead, she’d spouted off a few perfunctory words of congratulations and then she’d asked Olivia where the ceremony would be held and what color she would like her wedding gown to be.
Olivia wasn’t stupid. She knew her aunt did not approve of her marriage to the duke, that she wanted more for Olivia than a loveless marriage. Emmy had made no secret of the fact that she shared Aunt Augusta’s feelings, and if Sophie were here, Olivia knew precisely what her cousin would say.
You turned down his proposal last Season for a reason, Livvy. Why are you accepting him now?
She appreciated how much her family and friends cared for her, but she was weary, too. Weary of their hopes and expectations for her. Her aunt and cousin, and Emmy, all wanted her to marry for love, and her father simply wanted her to marry and be done with it. He had no specific expectations—at least, none that he’d shared with her—but she knew her own expectations for herself, what she hoped would make her father proud, and that was exhausting, too.
Always trying to please him, to guess at what would make him proud of her, wondering all the while if he even cared. If he even noticed.
When would she be able to do what made her happy? When would she be able to act on her own without thinking of others? When would she simply be able to be?
The thought made her scoff.
Never.
She was to be a duchess. She would have to fulfill her duties to the title, to the duchy, and to her husband. It was a wife’s duty, was it not, to please her husband? To honor and obey?
Of course, Paxton was a kind and gentle man. He would not make unrealistic demands on her. Still, he would be her husband, and he would make her a duchess. It would be a life not without challenges.
Olivia sighed, weariness sweeping over her. She knew she had much to be grateful for, but sometimes she longed to go back to the carefree days of her childhood when she ran wild through the rooms at Keswick House with her friends, exploring the grounds and making mischief.
A smile touched her lips. Those were good times. She’d been happy then, truly happy. Perhaps she would be happy that way again when she had little ones making mischief of their own.
A throat cleared behind her, breaking into her thoughts, and she turned, her eyes widening when they landed on the last person in the world she expected to see.
“Father.” Rising to her feet, she stared at him, surprise making her stumble over her words. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
Lord Blakely stepped forward and removed his beaver hat, discomfort etched in every line of his handsome, serious face.
“Olivia, I…” His lips pressed together beneath his salt-and-pepper mustache. “Will you sit with me? I would like to speak with you if I may.”
“Of course.” Olivia lowered to her seat, her mind whirling. What was her father doing here? He never visited her, and certainly not unannounced like this. What was going on? Had something happened?
For him to leave Caroline in the country in her delicate condition…
Something must be terribly wrong, indeed.
“I understand you are betrothed to the Duke of Paxton,” Lord Blakely said as he sat across from her, placing his hat on the table.
“Yes, sir.” She kept her expression clear, though his statement discomfited her. How did he know of her betrothal? She’d only posted her letter to him this morning. It would not have reached him in Surrey yet. “We mean to marry as soon as the banns are read,” she said. “With your approval, of course.”
A hesitant smile touched his lips. “I could hardly object to my daughter marrying a duke, could I?”
She returned his smile with a cautious one of her own. What did that mean? Was he happy with the news? Did he approve?
She studied him for a moment, sweeping her gaze over his face, so like her own. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and he looked largely the same, though his hair was a little longer, brushing his coat collar.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve come,” he said, tapping his gloved fingers on the wrought iron table. “I know I don’t visit as often as I should, but I thought an occasion such as this warranted a trip to London. I came today to deliver my blessing in person.”
His eyes found hers. “I also came to tell you how proud I am to call you my daughter.”
Olivia was silent as her bewildered brain registered the words she’d longed to hear her entire life. She swallowed past the knot in her throat and forced out an unsteady, “Thank you, Father.”
Lord Blakely cleared his throat in a blustery way that suggested he was far from comfortable. Still, he was not finished. “I am not a demonstrative man,” he went on. “Never have been. But…I should have done better by you, Olivia. I should have told you sooner—and often—how proud you’ve made me.”
She nodded. “That would have been nice,” she said softly. “I always thought you resented me. That you blamed me for…” She trailed off, losing her nerve.
“That I blamed you for your mother’s death,” he finished for her. “You thought I hated you for being born.”
She nodded again, her throat too tight to speak.
“I am sorry for that,” he said, regret deepening the lines around his eyes. “I had no idea you thought such a thing. Not until—” He broke off with a shake of his head and leaned forward, reaching across the table before pulling his hands back. He sighed. “I don’t hate you, Olivia. I’ve never hated you.”
“Then why…?”
“Why did I treat you as I did?” He leaned back in his chair and stroked his mustache as he considered his reply. “The truth is, I did resent your birth at first. I loved your mother very much, believe it or not, and when she died…” He drew in a deep breath, his eyes flashing with pain. “When she died, I was devastated, and I didn’t know how to handle it, the pain, the grief. I suppose…I suppose it was easier to blame you.”
He frowned and shook his head again, as if his behavior was a puzzle even to him. “Then later, as you grew, you resembled your mother more and more every day and it hurt me to look at you. It was lunacy, allowing myself to give in to that feeling, but I did. And as time went on, the distance between us grew until it was so cavernous I had no idea how to bridge it. Or even how to talk to my own daughter.”
Olivia’s eyes welled with tears as she gazed across the table at her sire, a man who had caused her so much pain and frustration, a man she barely knew. She had never thought of him as human before, with human weaknesses, never considered he might be unsure of himself or uncertain of what to do. He made mistakes, the same as everybody. And apparently, he was trying to make up for the ones he’d made with her.
“I understand, Father,” she said, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. Had she ever done such a thing? Had they ever done anything so simple as holding hands?
“I mean to do better,” he said gruffly. “By your future siblings, and by you, Olivia.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “That’s why I’m here. It was wrong of me to give you an ultimatum, to force you to choose a husband. I’m sorry for that. Truly I am.”
Her lips parted in surprise as her mind struggled to take it all in. “I don’t understand…”
He smiled. “I am withdrawing my order that you choose a husband by the end of the Season,” he said. “If you still wish to marry the duke, of course you may do so. But if you do not—if you wish to stay in London for the rest of the Season—I will support you. Or…” His smile widened. “You could return to Surrey with me and stay for a while. I would welcome the chance to get to know my daughter better.”
Olivia shook her head, baffled by the sudden change in the man seated across from her. Was he in earnest? Did he truly wish to know her better?
“But what about—” She broke off, confusion knitting her brow. “You told me you needed to economize…”
“I know I did,” he said, his mouth grim. “But my ultimatum was never about money. I just wanted you to marry well, so you would be taken care of. So I could stop worrying about you.” He blew out a breath. “The choice is yours, Olivia. I will remain in Town for a few days, to give you time to think it over. But whatever you choose, I will support your decision. And, either way, I sincerely hope we can repair our relationship.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his blue eyes—her eyes—steady and sincere as they held hers. Then he picked up his hat and left.
She watched his retreating form as he disappeared into the house, and in her bemused state she wondered if this was, in fact, all a dream.
“Olivia?” Aunt Augusta stood in the doorway, a look of concern on her face. “Are you unwell? What did your father want?”
Olivia shook her head and drew in a deep breath. The astonishing conversation had barely had time to sink into her brain.
“What is it, dearest?” Aunt Augusta settled into the chair Lord Blakely had just occupied. “Did your father upset you?”
“No. Not at all. I am...stunned, that’s all.”
She spent the next few minutes repeating what her father had said, her aunt’s shocked face mirroring her own feelings of befuddlement.
“I...am at a loss for words,” Aunt Augusta said, absentmindedly rubbing a knuckle along one wrinkled cheek. “What brought on this sudden change of heart?”
Olivia paused, considering her father’s words, and then let out a sheepish laugh. “He never said, and I was so stunned, I didn’t think to ask.”
“Strange...” Aunt Augusta shook her head, her brow clearing. “Still, I am glad to see the man has finally come to his senses.”
Olivia nodded, her gaze falling to the wrought-iron tabletop. Absently, she traced the swirls and loops with her fingertips, her father’s words looping through her mind.
“What will you do?” her aunt asked gently.
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “I am betrothed to a duke. Would it not be foolish to throw that away?”
She met her aunt’s gaze, seeking affirmation, but Aunt Augusta answered the question with one of her own. “Do you want to marry the duke?”
Olivia bobbed a shoulder. “Being a duchess is every girl’s dream.”
“That is not an answer.” Her aunt reached a hand out to still her fingers’ movements and Olivia met her gaze.
“You’re not a little girl anymore,” Aunt Augusta said, her voice kind but firm. “You are a woman grown, and you’ve just been given something all women should have. You’ve been given the chance to choose the life you want to live. So...what do you want?”
“I want children. I want a family of my own.”
Her aunt nodded. “And do you want those things with the duke?”
No,she thought. I want them with Griffin.
But she said nothing.
Her aunt sighed again. “You have a choice now, Olivia. You can become a duchess and give the world the next Duke of Paxton. Or you can leave the duke behind and find someone else to marry. Someone you genuinely want to marry.”
“And if he does not wish to marry me?” she whispered, her voice wavering.
“Then you will spend the rest of your life surrounded by your friends and family. People who love you.” Aunt Augusta smiled. “You are not alone, Olivia. You have me, and your cousin, and Emmy, and Lady Keswick. And you even your father now, it seems.”
Olivia nodded and bit her lip.
“I’ll not try to sway your decision,” Aunt Augusta said. “You already know my opinion. I only want to say this: Think of yourself. Think of what will make you happy and choose that.”
Olivia gave her aunt a smile, hoping to reassure her, but her lips felt as unsteady as her mind. She knew Aunt Augusta’s advice was sound and she wanted nothing more than to follow it, only…
What if the thing that would make her happiest was the one thing she could not have?
Olivia woke the next morning after a fitful night’s sleep. She’d tossed and turned well into the night, her mind spinning and churning, considering and reconsidering until she thought she would go mad with it.
Even now, hours later, as she strolled up Half Moon Street with Paxton at her side and her chaperoning aunt behind them, she was no closer to making a decision.
Truth be told, she had no idea what she would do.
It was a lovely day for a walk, sunny and warm with only the slightest breeze, and she let her gaze wander over her surroundings—the rows of elegant townhouses, the bustle of horses and carriages passing by on the street—though she barely saw any of it.
You could return to Surrey with me. I would welcome the chance to get to know my daughter better.
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, her father’s words echoing through her mind for the hundredth time today. How could she refuse such an offer? How could she deny herself this chance to know him better? To start anew?
But what of your promise to Paxton?
Her heart gave a guilty twist, and she stole a glance at her betrothed, so dapper today in his light green morning suit, his auburn hair flicking in the breeze beneath his beaver hat.
She’d rejected this man once before already. How could she sever their betrothal now? How could she refuse him a second time, after she’d worked so hard to earn his trust again? After he hadworked so hard to convince his mother it was safe to?
She couldn’t.
Or could she?
Oh, she was so confused!
“Olivia?”
Paxton’s quiet voice drew her gaze and she found him watching her, as if awaiting her reply to a question she hadn’t heard him ask.
“Apologies,” she said, her smile sheepish. “I was woolgathering.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of that this afternoon,” he said without a hint of rancor. “Is something troubling you?”
She hadn’t told him yet of her father’s visit. She dipped her chin, eyeing her cream-colored half-boots as she considered what to say. “My father is in Town,” she said. “And he paid me a visit yesterday. I never told you this, but earlier in the year, before the Season began, he gave me an ultimatum…”
She spent the next few minutes detailing her father’s demand and his subsequent change of heart.
By the time she’d finished, Paxton’s usually-cheerful expression had clouded. “I had no idea you were under such pressure to marry,” he said. “But now your father has changed his mind?”
Olivia nodded. “I don’t really understand it, but yes, it seems he has. He said he regrets the decision now, and he even apologized for it. And for not being a better father.”
Surprise bloomed in Paxton’s eyes. “It’s about time,” he said, nodding his approval. He was well aware of her complicated relationship with her father.
“He wants us to get to know each other better,” she said slowly, hesitating over her next words. “He’s…invited me to join him in Surrey, to spend some time with him and my stepmother, and I—” She paused on the pavement and turned to face him, half-aware of her aunt hovering a few feet away. “I would like to do it, Paxton. I realize a long engagement is not ideal, but I do hope you are willing to wait for me. I would only be gone for a few months at most, and I…”
She trailed off at the slow shake of Paxton’s head.
“No?” she asked, more than a little surprised by his refusal.
“No.” His voice held no malice, only resignation and regret.
Olivia frowned. “But…why?”
A half-smile touched his lips, and he drew in a deep breath. “You know how difficult it is for me to deny you anything,” he said. “Just as you know I would wait for you forever if you asked it of me. Because I love you.”
Olivia blinked, surprise parting her lips. Paxton…loved her? She knew he admired her, and cared for her a great deal, but…love? He’d never said that word before.
Paxton’s eyes flicked over her face and his smile turned rueful. “But I know you do not feel the same. If you did, you would never have asked me to wait.”
She frowned and parted her lips to argue but he raised a hand, staying her words. “That was not an ultimatum,” he said. “It was an observation. If you truly wished to marry me, you would ask me to go to Surrey with you. As your husband. You would know you could have both.”
His eyes were a mix of affection and frustration as he took both her hands in his, right there on the street for everyone to see.
“Go to Surrey,” he said. “Go to your father. Spend time with him. Be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
He was letting her go.
Emotion caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “But…what about your mother? What will you tell her?”
Paxton drew in a deep breath, displeasure crossing his face. “I suppose I’ll tell her we realized we wouldn’t suit.”
Olivia pursed her lips. “She will not be pleased.”
It was an understatement for the ages.
“No, she won’t,” he said with a small smile. “But she will forgive me eventually. She always does.”
“Well, you are her only son,” she said, returning his smile. “She hardly has a choice, does she?”
He nodded. “True. Though I suspect she would forgive me even faster if I married Miss Withers.”
Olivia regarded him for a moment and then, softly, she asked, “Is that what you mean to do?”
His gaze sobered a bit, and he shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I think I’ll nurse my broken heart a little longer before I decide.”
Self-mockery tinged his smile and Olivia’s heart squeezed with guilt and gratitude and love—the love of friendship. She did not deserve this man’s kindness.
And she would miss him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes misting with emotion. “You are a wonderful man, Gregory Paxton. I hope you know that. And I wish you all the happiness in the world. You deserve it.”
She squeezed his hands and then gently slipped them free of his grasp.
Free. She was free. The tightness in her chest eased, and it was then she knew with complete certainty that this was right. This was good.
She would have married Paxton, and they would probably have spent many contented years together as husband and wife. But he was right. She did not love him, and if she had married him, it would have been for all the wrong reasons.
No matter what happened now, at least she had that to console her.