Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dinner that night passed in a blur of good food and lively conversation. The small party of seven spent the remainder of the evening in the blue salon, chatting and playing cards before saying their good nights and retiring to their chambers for the evening.
It was nearly midnight when Olivia and her two dearest friends finally found their chance to speak alone in Emmy’s chamber, sitting cross-legged in a circle on the bed, just as they had done as little girls.
“Well,” Olivia said, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Now that we’re finally alone, I demand you tell us everything, Sophie. Do you like being married? Are you happy? Is it everything you thought it would be?”
“And, most importantly,” Emmy said, “is James treating you with the deference you deserve? Because if he isn’t, you have only to say the word and I will show him the error of his ways.”
Sophie laughed, her green eyes sparkling with merriment. “James is treating me very well, thank you,” she said, “and I am happier than I have ever been. Of course, I haven’t yet had to perform any of my duties as countess, but I’ve greatly enjoyed everything else.” Her smile turned dreamy. “James is a most attentive husband.”
“I knew you two were meant to be together,” Olivia said with a satisfied nod. “Did I not say so last April in this very house?”
“So you did,” Sophie said. “And I’ve never been so happy to admit you were right.” She waved a hand. “But enough about me. I want to know what happened with your father. Tell me everything.”
Olivia spent the next twenty minutes going over everything Sophie had missed while on her wedding trip, covering all the ups and downs of her courtship with the duke, Griffin’s assistance and finally, the surprise visit from her father and the subsequent month spent at his house in Surrey.
“Then your father no longer expects you to marry?” Sophie asked, her dark brows arched in surprise.
Olivia shrugged. “Of course he would like for me to marry, but he said he would support me in whatever I wish to do.”
Her cousin gave a slow shake of her head. “I can scarcely believe it. I’ve always thought of your father as something of a villain. This new version will take some getting used to.”
Olivia nodded. “I know. Sometimes I wonder if it is all too good to be true.” She sighed. “I do regret hurting Paxton again, though. He did not deserve such poor treatment.”
“You were only doing what was best for you, Livvy,” Sophie said, squeezing Olivia’s knee. “He cannot fault you for that.”
“I suppose so.” But even though Paxton had given her his blessing, she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, even now.
“Speaking of Paxton,” Emmy said, her waggling brows a signal of incoming news. “He is no longer in London.”
Olivia frowned. “No longer in London? What do you mean?” Guilt sharpened her voice as she thought back to Paxton’s jest about nursing his broken heart. At least, she’d thought it was a jest. Had he left London because of her?
“Evidently he wished to travel,” Emmy said with a shrug. “He never took his Grand Tour like so many young men do, so he’s decided to take it now. I believe he is in Greece as we speak.”
Olivia did not bother to ask how her friend had come by such detailed information. Emmy worked in mysterious—and effective—ways.
“Did he take his mother with him?” Sophie asked.
“No, he did not.” Emmy’s tone echoed Olivia’s own surprise.
“Goodness,” she said. “I never thought Paxton would go anywhere without his mother.” When she and the duke were still betrothed, she’d half-expected the dowager duchess to join them on their wedding trip.
“Nor did I,” Emmy said. “And I don’t think the duchess did either. I saw her on Bond Street only last week and she looked quite cross with the world.”
“She always looks like that,” Sophie pointed out, displeasure sparking in her green eyes. “She is the most disagreeable woman I have ever met, and I do not like her.”
Olivia bit back a smile. Her cousin did not approve of the way the duchess had treated her after she’d turned down Paxton’s first offer of marriage, and although Sophie was only two years her senior, she had always watched over her with the fervor of a mother bear protecting her cub.
“Well, I feel sorry for her,” Olivia said. “Her son is her life, and he has left her. I don’t think he has ever gone against her wishes before.”
“It will be good for her,” Sophie said with no sympathy whatsoever. “A little humility is good for all of us.”
Olivia couldn’t argue with that. The duchess was too used to having her own way, and Paxton too often gave it to her, despite what his own wishes might be. Pursuing Olivia was the closest he ever came to a rebellion. Perhaps this trip abroad would lead to some much-needed independence.
“So, what will you do now, Livvy?” Emmy asked, leaning back on her hands. “Another London Season? Or will you hunt for a husband elsewhere?”
Olivia sighed and plucked at her skirts. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Do you even want to get married?” Sophie asked, her tone curious.
“I think so,” she said. “I like the idea of having a family of my own one day.” She pursed her lips. “Of course, now that I’ve been given the chance to marry at my leisure, it seems a waste to marry for any reason other than love, but—” She broke off with a shake of her head, bitterness twisting her heart.
“But you’re still in love with Griffin,” Emmy finished for her, ever astute.
Olivia’s gaze dropped to the quilted counterpane, and she nodded. “I don’t know if I will ever stop loving him,” she whispered, tracing a finger along the criss-crossed stitching. “And if I can’t stop loving him, how can I fall in love with someone else? Someone who will love me in return?”
“You don’t know that Griffin doesn’t love you,” Sophie said. “He obviously cares for you. We can all see it, can’t we, Em?”
“We can,” Emmy said.
Olivia thought of the look in Griffin’s eyes, the tenderness she thought she’d seen there just hours ago, and her heart longed to believe it. But eyes can lie, can’t they? And tenderness isn’t love.
“He will come around, Livvy,” Sophie said. “He only needs a little more time to—”
“No,” Olivia broke in, her voice firm as her head came up. “No. He’s had more than enough time already, and I don’t want to marry a man who has to come around. If he loved me—truly loved me—would he not tell me so? Would he not make his feelings known?”
“Perhaps he already has,” Sophie said, her voice soft.
Olivia’s brows dipped. “What do you mean?”
“He went to your father, Livvy. I can’t think of a more romantic gesture than ensuring your future was your own to decide. Can you?”
Olivia shook her head. “But he asked my father to keep it a secret. If it truly was a romantic gesture, wouldn’t he want me to know about it?”
“Not necessarily,” Sophie said. “Perhaps he—”
“No, Livvy’s right,” Emmy broke in. “I don’t think it was a gesture.”
“What?” Sophie’s brows drew together. “Of course it was.”
Emmy shook her head as Olivia’s eyes darted back and forth between them.
“My brother is the most stubborn person I know,” Emmy said. “And he can be astoundingly dense when he chooses to be. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves you, Livvy. His actions more than prove it.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, he isn’t ready to admit it yet.”
Olivia swallowed, her heart giving a foolish little leap. “Why—why are you so certain he loves me?”
“Because he went to see your father with no expectation of a reward, other than seeing you happy,” Emmy said, her gray eyes as frank as her words. “I think he wished to keep his visit a secret because he wanted you to believe your father had a change of heart all on his own. After all, would that not have made you even happier than you are now?”
Olivia had no answer for that question, but she thought of little else for the rest of the night as she lay in bed, trying to sleep, her mind a jumbled mass of confused thoughts.
Were Sophie and Emmy right? Was Griffin truly in love with her? Her friends seemed so certain of it and, although the notion sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine, she could not bring herself to believe it. Not wholly.
She’d meant what she said before. She was through with wondering and waiting. He’d had more than enough time to claim her hand and he hadn’t.
She could not be certain what her future held, but she liked the turn her life had taken these last few weeks, all the changes forged, and strides made. There was more healing to be done, but for the first time in what seemed like forever she was finally beginning to like herself, faults and all.
When she married—if she married—it would be to a man who appreciated those things about her, too. A man who married her because of her flaws, not in spite of them.
She deserved a love like that—every woman did—and she would not settle for anything less. Not anymore.