Olivia fixed her with a pointed gaze. “The truth, if you please.”
A sigh escaped Jane as her shoulders sagged. “My father is attempting to marry me off to the Duke of Brackenford.”
Olivia wrinkled her nose in distaste. “But he is positively ancient.”
“I know,” Jane whispered with a shudder. “I hope he will soon find another suitable match for me.”
“You do have a say in the matter,” Olivia reminded her.
Jane’s expression turned bleak. “That is easy for you to say. My father and brother govern every aspect of my life. I have no choices, no freedoms.” She glanced around the room as if waryof being overheard. “It is no different for most women of our station.”
“Have you ever defied them?” Olivia asked.
Jane looked horrified. “Heavens, no!” Her eyes widened. “I scarcely dare.”
Olivia shook her head with quiet resolve. “You deserve more out of life, Jane.”
Her friend managed a weak smile. “Perhaps. But I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” She reached across the table, her fingers brushing Olivia’s hand. “But enough about me. I am more concerned about you.”
Olivia arched a brow. “Whatever for?”
Jane gave her a pointed look. “I read in the newssheets that Lord Westmere and Lord Harwood perished.”
“That they did,” Olivia said calmly, though her fingers tightened slightly around the book.
“And I know you had feelings for Lord Harwood.”
“Hadbeing the operative word,” Olivia replied. “He cast me aside and married another. I have made my peace with it.”
Jane did not look convinced. “It is perfectly natural to grieve him.”
“I refuse to give him another moment’s thought,” Olivia said firmly, though her voice wavered ever so slightly. “The way he treated me… I would not wish that cruelty upon my worst enemy.”
“Livy—”
She raised a hand, forestalling her friend’s sympathy. “You need not fret over me. I have a dog now. In fact, I am considering acquiring a cat or two.”
“Cats? Whatever for?” Jane asked, bewildered.
Olivia’s lips twitched into a grin. “I may as well embrace spinsterhood fully.”
“You are only five and twenty,” Jane protested. “Hardly destined to be a spinster.”
“Ah, but who would want to marry a woman with an annulled marriage?”
Jane gave a little shrug. “The right man would. Are you not the one who always insisted that love conquers all?”
“Not anymore,” she admitted. “Love is dead—or at least reserved for the lucky few who manage to find it. It is a little more than a game of chance.”
Jane’s gaze flicked to the book Olivia had been reading. “If that is truly how you feel, why are you reading romance novels?”
Olivia gave a weary smile. “Because it is pleasant to escape into another world, even for a few moments. Within the pages of a book, love still triumphs.”
Jane reached for her hand again. “What happened with Mr. Smith was not your fault. He deceived you.”
Olivia turned her gaze away, her throat tight. She knew her friend meant well, but such reminders only deepened her shame. Heartbroken by Lord Harwood’s betrayal, she had allowed herself to be swept away by Mr. Smith’s lies—all the way to Gretna Green. The consequences of that folly still haunted her.
“I know,” she whispered. “But it does not make the memory any less bitter.”
