Chapter Thirty
Of course, Olivia had never intended to leave Augustus. Even at the height of her despair, she had been unable to deny her love for him. While she had felt for a few hours that they might, in fact, be doomed to a life at odds with those he loved best, she had never seriously contemplated ending the engagement—and she had never even considered leaving him altogether.
By now, Olivia had explained all of this thinking to Augustus many times, as they came to a better understanding of each other on the sofa…and on the bed…and on the sofa once more, for good measure. As well as the kitchen floor and the dining room table.
Now, the man insisted that he had a surprise for her. It had been two weeks since the row at Edington House and they had hardly seen anyone since that night. They had been holed up in the townhouse, rabid with lust and love for each other. Nevertheless, Augustus had assured her that he had made everything right with Leith and his friends. She didn’t quite believe him—she still saw a pinched, tight expression come over his face when Leith was mentioned—but she believed that he was on the path to reconciliation with him, at least. He had also explained that he had told them the truth about his past: that he was, not in fact, the Downstairs Menace at all and hadn’t bedded any other women since Olivia departed from London all those years ago.
“That, probably more than anything, convinced Leith of what he had done to you,” she said, tartly, as she smoothed down her new ball gown in front of the mirror. Augustus had ordered it for her on rush from Mrs. Warburton and she had to admit that she looked rather well in it.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, kissing her behind her ear, and making her shiver with desire. “And I think you are rather right. I was glad that I hadn’t told him sooner. The idea that he would have deprived any other human man, never mind his own best friend, of thirteen years of copulation—well, I am not sure he will ever be the same.”
“How mad are you with him still? Be serious.”
Augustus frowned. He was wearing his dark suit of evening clothes. He looked so handsome that she seriously wondered how it could be worth it to leave the house.
“I admit that it will take time for me to truly forgive him,” he said, and then, catching her little frown in the mirror, “But before you go blaming yourself, I have to say that I think my relationship with Leith—and John and Trem, too—can only be improved by the truth.”
“Do you think they will accept you? As you are?”
He smiled. “Of course. We have known each other so long—they would love me no matter what. I wasn’t letting them see me before. I chose to hide my feelings from them and then would feel estranged from them when they addressed me as I presented myself. But now, we are on a more honest footing. It has to be for the best.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
“And now,” he said, taking her hand, “for my surprise.”
“We are clearly going to a ball,” she said, “given how we are dressed.”
“Yes, I must admit we are.”
“And we will see society people—your people.”
“It is true, we will.”
“I don’t see how it is a surprise then.”
“You will,” he said, kissing her hand. “Come. It’s time.”
Soon, they were in the carriage, and then they had pulled up in front of a dwelling that she knew was Leith Manor.
“Are you going to murder your best friend in your finest evening clothes? Is that why we are here?” She meant it as a joke, but she was really anxious.
“Hardly,” he said, taking her hand, “Just trust me.”
When they approached the door of the Manor, Petunia exited the door and came towards them.
“There you are!” she cried, “You two are late.”
“Time waits for love,” Augustus said, mockingly.
“Pfft!” she scoffed, “This way.”
She brought them towards the door and Olivia had to admit she was bewildered. What surprise waited inside?
Petunia opened the door and led them through the entryway, which was decorated as if for a lavish party. She heard the strains of music in the ballroom and the hum of many voices.
“I will give you one minute to make your grand entrance,” Petunia said, “But don’t take any longer!”
“Augustus,” she said, once Petunia departed, “What is going on?”
He took her hands. “Welcome, my dear, to our engagement party.”
“I do not understand.”
“Olivia, listen to me. You have said you don’t belong in my world. And maybe that is true. Maybe it will never be a perfect fit. But I wanted to throw you this party to show you that, no matter what happens, I will bend this world. I will make it what you need it to be. That is how strong my love is for you. I never want you to change to fit this world. But I will change this world to fit you.”
After such sweet words, she felt her shock fade.
“All of those people,” she said, her mind struggling to comprehend it, “not just your friends and your family and the Mappertons are here? To celebrate our engagement?”
“Well,” Augustus said, with a sly smile, “You once said that half of society is my family.”
She felt the impulse to laugh uncontrollably.
“But, come, we must go and be celebrated.”
And so Olivia Watson let Augustus Carrington lead her into the ballroom. When they entered, everyone began to clap. It was as Augustus said it would be. The place was filled with the usual aristocrats and noblemen, all seemingly smiling and ready and willing to overlook the fact that one of their own was marrying a former scullery maid. Olivia thought that she would never see such a thing, but she supposed that these people, like all others, were merely human. Whether it was a family relationship to her fiancé, or bald regard for his title and family, or a favor they needed from the Horticultural Society, or the promise of particularly good grouse hunting in Scotland, they each had their reasons for deciding, in this one instance, to be liberal.
And, then, of course, there were the people they loved: Percy and Natasha; Eloisa and Nathanial; his mother; Willa, Elizabeth, and Petunia.
The only people that she didn’t see were his friends. The Rank Rakes.
But just as she had that thought, one voice rose over the rest of the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” it said, and out stepped Leith, Trem, and John from the clapping crowd. It was Leith who had spoken.
“My friends and I gather you here tonight to celebrate the engagement of our best friend, Lord Augustus Carrington, the Earl of Montaigne, to the lovely, unmatched Miss Olivia Watson,” Leith boomed. “With her, he has found an unusual happiness. And we could not be happier for our friend who is and has always been the best of us. Many people care about how they appear to others and not many concern themselves principally with who they actually are to others. Our friend, Montaigne, however, is one of those rare men who holds himself to the highest personal standards, even if he will get no credit for it from society. We wish he and Miss Watson all the joy they deserve—that is to say, all of the joy in the world.”
The crowd roared in response to this toast. And, almost immediately, the string orchestra started again.
“Now,” Leith said over the music, “Lord Montaigne and the future Lady Montaigne will lead us in the waltz.”
Before Olivia could realize it was happening, Augustus had swept her onto the floor. She was not, she knew, the best dancer, but she was passable—and, in his arms, she could hardly care. Slowly, the floor around them filled with other couples, but she could only look at him.
She was stunned by what he had done for her.
“I cannot believe it,” she said simply. “I never thought it possible.”
“Anything, my love, for you.”
And then, right there, in the middle of the floor, he kissed her, for all of society to see or not see, to revile or applaud. It did not matter, after all, what they thought.
What mattered was that she had him.