Olivia tilted her head, studying her, as if gauging her sincerity. After a long moment, she nodded. “I believe you.”
“Good,” Theodosia said. “Now perhaps you can knock that truth into your brother’s thick skull.”
Adopting a more rigid posture, Olivia deepened her voice in imitation. “‘You cannot insult me. I am a marquess!’”
Olivia’s impersonation was so uncanny that Theodosia burst out laughing. “He does announce it rather often, doesn’t he? Do you think he ever forgets?”
“I highly doubt it,” Olivia replied, giggling.
Just then, the parlor door opened and Lady Wilton swept in and lightly chided, “Do leave your brother alone, Olivia.”
“I cannot help myself, Mother. He is just so terribly stuffy.”
Lady Wilton made a sound between a laugh and a sigh as she took a seat beside her daughter. “He is very much like his father in that respect. Stiff and stubborn, but both with hearts of gold.”
Turning her attention to Theodosia, she asked, “How are you settling in here, dear?”
“I’m enjoying myself greatly,” Theodosia replied with genuine warmth. “Everyone has been most welcoming.”
Lady Wilton’s face lit with pleasure. “Wonderful. I’m so pleased to hear it.”
At that moment, the butler entered, bearing a silver tray with a single letter atop it. “A letter for Miss Theodosia.”
She rose, accepted the letter with a murmur of thanks, and glanced down at the handwriting. Her heart lifted. “It’s from my dearest friend, Penelope.”
“Will you read it now?” Lady Wilton asked.
“I shall, in a little while,” Theodosia replied, slipping the missive into a concealed pocket in her gown as she returned to her seat.
Lady Wilton held her gaze and asked, “Have you heard from your man of business recently?”
“Not yet,” Theodosia said. “But before leaving, I gave him a very thorough list of what I expect to be managed in my absence. I’m quite detailed when it comes to estate affairs.”
Lady Wilton nodded with a look of impressed approval. “You must have a remarkable head for business.”
Olivia straightened suddenly, her eyes bright. “Do you think I could manage an estate?”
Without looking at her, Lady Wilton answered, “No.”
Olivia’s mouth fell open. “Well, that was rather rude.”
“I meant no offense, darling,” her mother said, clearly amused. “But you and Richard both inherited my lack of skill with numbers. We tend to mix them about, even when we try very hard not to.”
Olivia gave a theatrical sigh and flopped back against the settee. “So much for my future as a shrewd landowner.”
“I daresay that you shall manage,” Lady Wilton said.
Just then, a maid entered the room, balancing a gleaming silver tea service upon a tray. She moved with silent efficiency and placed it carefully upon the low table before Lady Wilton.
“Shall I pour, my lady?” the maid asked politely.
Lady Wilton gave a shake of her head. “That won’t be necessary. Lady Olivia shall see to the tea.”
Olivia straightened at once and reached for the teapot with exaggerated seriousness. “So I cannot be trusted with numbers,” she muttered, “but I am deemed fit to serve refreshments.”
“Precisely,” Lady Wilton said with a smile. “An invaluable skill.”
Olivia poured three cups of tea and distributed them. Theodosia took a sip of her tea and then lowered her cup to her lap, turning her gaze to Lady Wilton.
