AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As his voice warmed each inch of her skin telling the stories from his travels, it seemed to rip off those shreds with excruciating precision.
She might survive, but not in one piece. Worse. If a match was forthcoming, there would be no way of continuing as Lady Mandeville’s companion. The prospect of seeing Edmund with lamentable constancy would destroy her as sure as if a carriage overrode her.
To seek a new position would be tantamount to saving what little remained of her. The only way to try to forget the man once and for all.
How delusional would she get? If she did not forget him in eight years with him absent, she surely would not in the next hundred years. Millennium. Eternity.
And why the darn did she let him creep back into her heart in the first place? Apology or no apology, it did not change the fact he was a nobleman and she a humble miss, a commoner. She was only worth being his mistress, despite his saying otherwise. For this was the reality of the ton. The reality she had to tackle. Her lungs filled with scarce air, and she took a large sip of water to swallow the lump in her throat. Her eyes hurt with the strain to hold the tears at bay.
She should pledge indisposition and flee this dining room. Yes, flee. Not like a coward, but like an army that retreated to fight another day. Another hour. Another minute, if she was lucky. Not possible though. The sole option was to wear the social mask and count the minutes until she was free to take refuge in her chamber. Her promise of not crying for him anew completely unfeasible in this scenario.
“Gracious me.” Lady Edwina waxed on unbidden. “The Earl is so dashing. Would you not say?” she commented as they left the dining room.
Dashing? She scoffed inward with the girlish term. No. Hot-blooded, overbearing, primal. Impressive, would be more like it.
Not even when the ladies retired to the drawing room did she get a reprieve. Lady Edwina seemed utterly taken with the Earl. And who would blame her? Any woman who had blood flowing in her veins would. The difference being that the girl would get the prize. While Otilia would have to get lost, before she lost herself, that is.
“Fortunately for you, my lady,” she answered in what she hoped to be an even tone.
Her weaker side wondered if it would not have been better to accept to be his mistress and stay with him for as long as he would have her. No more than this would have been available to her, clearly. She wiped the notion from her mind at once. When he married Edwina, she would have to vacate the place in his life. Without a job or somewhere to go on top of it.
She made the right decision. Bitter and sad as it came.
The gentlemen came in to meet the ladies, and Otilia steeled herself for more hours of torment.
In need of another cup of tea, she stood and neared the tea tray. “You took employment rather than marriage,” Carlton said behind her.
Her head turned to him as she smiled. “Oliver.” At least a friendly face in this horrific evening. “A more solid choice, I daresay.”
/> “I am getting self-esteem issues here,” he jested. “You prefer to work over being a Viscountess?”
Her smile bloomed genuinely. “You know it to be untrue.” Unwilling, her eyes crossed with Edmund’s forbidding ones on the other side of the room. She was doing nothing wrong by talking to her friend. So, he had no right to make her feel guilty. With her back to him, she continued. “It is a question of being true to myself.”
“Brave girl.” He took a sip of his brandy. “The offer still stands if you change your mind.”
“You are such a darling, Oliver.” A footman filled her cup before she excused herself.
Otilia rotated to see the Earl approaching Edwina, who curtsied with a bubbling smile.
The sight suffocated her. There seemed to be no oxygen on the entire planet. Five minutes, she needed five short minutes. If she did not leave the room at this second, she would embarrass herself with silly swooning. Faking calm and sipping her tea, she neared the door in subtle steps. Her eyes peered around while she placed the cup on a passing footman’s tray. Everyone had engaged in conversation and did not notice when she sneaked out into the hall.
In quick strides, she reached the far end of the darkened hallway, and slumped against the wall, head falling on it with uneven breath. After a minute or two she started to feel better.
“What are you doing here, Otilia?” The deep male voice unsettled her yet again.
Oh, fantastic! Did the blasted man give no quarter?
A dim light came from the chandelier at the other end of the hallway, against which the broad shape of him moved towards her.
“It is none of your business,” she answered, mustering just the remaining energy to clench her body and try to block his effect on her. Unsuccessfully, by the looks of it.
“As the Earl, I make it my business.” He posted himself in front of her, so close she captured the scent of his clove essence and the man who took her to mindless passion.
She searched for a tart retort to give him, but found none. Emotionally exhausted, she barely had enough strength to stand.
His scrutiny took in every inch of her face. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course.” The opportunity to enjoy the sight of his chiselled features was too good not to seize. So, she did. Thoroughly. “The air is a tad stifling in the drawing room,” she managed to say.
