Much more.
Olivia spoke up. “Mr. Addington is not capable of ogling anyone. I daresay you are mistaken, Brother.”
“I know what I saw,” he replied, a touch too forcefully.
“Perhaps you need spectacles, then,” Olivia remarked lightly.
Richard did not want to prolong this line of conversation, especially under his sister’s perceptive gaze. She would see through him—just as Miss Theodosia had.
Theodosia sat near the window in the parlor, her needle moving in and out of her embroidery. A shaft of golden afternoon sunlight illuminated her stitches, though her concentration faltered now and then—not from difficulty with the pattern, but from the music filling the room. Olivia was seated at the pianoforte, her fingers gliding across the keys with graceful mastery. The melodies were light and elegant, yet tinged with something more wistful beneath the surface.
Still, since their visit to Gunter’s, a question had been gnawing at the edge of her thoughts, refusing to be silenced.
The final note drifted into silence, and Olivia let her hands fall into her lap. She rose from the bench with a soft sigh and crossed to the settee, flopping onto it with none of the polish expected of a lady.
“What shall we do now?” she asked, brushing a stray curl from her face.
Lowering her needlework to her lap, Theodosia said, “We could speak about what happened at Gunter’s earlier.”
Olivia made a face and sank deeper into the cushions. “I would prefer not to.” She pointed towards the chessboard on a side table. “We could play a game instead.”
Theodosia gave her a knowing look. “I take it the gentleman you once loved is Lord Harwood.”
Olivia stiffened slightly. “Wasit so obvious?”
“Not to most,” Theodosia replied. “But I’ve never known you to appear uneasy around anyone. Today was… different.”
With a resigned sigh, Olivia clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Yes. I once believed I was in love with Lord Harwood. Foolishly, of course.”
“And you no longer believe it?”
“Not when the man is married to another,” Olivia said bitterly. “That has a way of stripping away illusions.”
Theodosia offered a faint, understanding smile. “Feelings don’t vanish the moment someone becomes unavailable. It simply means you mustn’t act upon them.”
“Oh, I would never,” Olivia said, her voice laced with scorn. “The man is a blackguard. He promised me everything—devotion, a future, even marriage. And then he married another without a word of explanation.”
Theodosia’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, Olivia. That must have been painful.”
Olivia waved a hand dismissively, though the motion lacked its usual liveliness. “It’s over now. He made his choice, and I must live with it.”
“You didn’t deserve to be treated so callously.”
“No, I didn’t. But that’s the world we live in, is it not? Where trust is a fool’s currency.”
Theodosia met her gaze. “You can trust me.”
“Can I?”
“Why are you surprised?” Theodosia asked. “I want only what is best for you.”
There was a pause, and then Olivia spoke carefully. “Are you acquainted with my husband?”
Theodosia blinked, taken aback. “No. Why would I be?”
“It’s just…” Olivia hesitated. “My brother seems convinced that you know more than you’re letting on about Luke Smith.”
Setting her embroidery aside on the nearby table, Theodosia straightened. “I have told your brother—repeatedly, infact—that I do not know this Mr. Smith. He is not my brother, nor any relation to me. The name is a mere coincidence.”
