“And if he disagrees?”
Olivia shrugged. “Then he is not the man you think he is.”
Constance was silent for a long time. At last, she spoke in a whisper. “What if he doubts my commitment? I don’t want to lose him.”
“Would you truly want a man who would be chased away by something so simple as waiting for marriage?” She nudged Constance in the ribs with her elbow. “Your first season should be fun, not stressful.”
“I wouldn’t want to ask for something so important in a letter,” Constance said. “I’ll need a chance to speak to him in private. At home, I was able to sneak out of my room at night, but here, Mrs. Quill is always watching.”
Olivia pretended to consider this problem, so as not to give away her excitement. “Well, Mrs. Quill won’t be a problem if you arrange to meet at an event. I suppose I could distract your father.”
Constance’s mouth dropped open. “You would do that?”
“As long as you promise to be careful.”
“Of course I will.” Constance bounced on her bed. Then she scrambled off and ran to her writing desk. “Which event are we going to next?”
Olivia wanted to ask how Constance’s letter would reach its destination, if the girl knew where Mr. Dawson was staying, or if someone was helping them communicate, but Constance had already revealed more than Olivia had expected. She would attempt further questioning later rather than risk damaging the trust she had gained with the girl. “I thought Lord and Lady Wintermoor’s masquerade.” She doubted Mr. Dawson could secure a proper invitation, but a masquerade would be easy for him to sneak into.
Constance tapped her toes and squealed. “You are the best matchmaker, Lady Allen. I was worried I wouldn’t get manychances to see him. I'm going to write to him right now and I’ll let you know as soon as he responds, but I’m sure he’ll agree. He’s always asking me to arrange opportunities for us to meet.”
The admission made Olivia’s skin crawl. Everything Constance had told her suggested that Mr. Dawson shared the same unsettling obsession for Constance that the earl had had for her.
She could only hope that, given time, Constance would see that, too.
Chapter 15
When Olivia left Constance’s room, Thel was leaning against the wall next to an open window, his arms crossed.
“How is she?” he asked.
She did not have enough of the anger she had carried earlier to respond how she wished she could. “She is confused. Lost. It will take some time for her to understand what is happening. Until then, she’ll need guidance.” She put her hands on her hips. “And not from you.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Being the head of this family is challenging. Our living arrangement is unusual. We all must compromise, and the situation with Constance is making it difficult to maintain harmony.”
She was tempted to tell him about the deal she had made with Constance, but his refusal to listen to her earlier made her wonder if he was more like her former husband than she’d realized, hiding aspects of his personality. What if there was a cruel streak beneath his gentle exterior? She had not known him for long, and she had a history of seeing only what she wanted to see in men.
“Is that all that matters to you?” she asked. “Your family staying together?”
He frowned. “Of course. Nothing is more important.”
It was a perspective she did not share. Her parents had certainly not cared about her well-being. Her mother had thrust her into the care of strangers from the moment she’d been born, from wet-nurse to nanny to governess. That might not have beenso terrible, except the women who’d filled those roles had cycled out often enough that she had never had time to grow attached. There had never been any visits from aunts or uncles, no cousins with whom to play, no grandparents to bounce her on their knees.
Thel’s family could not have been more different.
“My lord!” a voice called.
It was Thel’s butler, walking quickly toward them.
“What is it?” Thel asked.
“A constable has arrived,” the man said.
“What does he want?” Olivia asked. The words came out squeakier than she’d intended.
She remembered the uniformed man who had come to the house after the earl’s death. He had demanded she account for her activities during the earl’s final days, challenged every statement she’d made, and accused her of being hysterical when she’d demanded he leave. She had no desire to experience that level of disrespect again.
“Send him to the drawing room,” Thel said.
