Richard rose with them and caught Olivia’s gaze. “You will be just fine.”
She lowered her eyes to the floor, her heart too heavy to meet his optimism. “I wish I could believe that,” she murmured, before following her mother from the dining room.
In the entry hall, as they waited for the coach to be brought round, her mother spoke again. “How is Evander faring?”
“He is as well as can be expected,” Olivia answered. “But I know him. He is struggling beneath it all.”
Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know you wish to help him, my dear, but it might be best to distance yourself.”
“And why is that?”
Turning to face her daughter fully, her mother’s expression softened with compassion. “You carry a scandal about you. And Evander has only just inherited his title. Do you truly wish to see the gossips sharpen their tongues against him as well?”
The words stung because they rang with truth. “No. I do not,” she responded.
“I say this not to wound you,” her mother continued. “But because I know how much you care for him. Protecting him may mean stepping back—for now.”
Olivia swallowed hard. Her mother was right, as painful as it was to admit. She would not be the cause of more hardship for Evander. She loved him too dearly to see his name dragged through the mud alongside hers.
At that moment, Sterling appeared and opened the door. “The coach is ready, my ladies.”
Together, they stepped outside and entered the coach. As the door shut and the vehicle moved forward, Olivia turned her gaze to the passing streets beyond the window. How had her life come to this? All because of one terrible mistake. One reckless, foolish moment when she had believed Lord Harwood’s promises.
The journey passed swiftly, and soon they arrived before the grand stone façade of the Everwyck townhouse. The coach drew to a halt, and they disembarked. Ascending the wide steps, her mother knocked firmly upon the door.
It opened almost at once. The butler greeted them with a courteous bow. “Lady Wilton. Lady Olivia. You are most welcome.”
“Is Lady Everwyck receiving callers?” her mother inquired.
“Her ladyship gave strict instructions that you were always welcome,” the butler replied. “Please follow me. I shall show you to the parlor.”
“She is not in her bedchamber?” Olivia asked.
The butler led them down the corridor, replying over his shoulder, “Lady Everwyck requested a change of scenery this morning.”
“I suppose she is entitled,” Olivia remarked with a faint smile.
They had just reached the parlor door when a familiar figure approached from the far end of the corridor. Evander. His expression flickered with surprise when he saw them.
“Olivia. Lady Wilton,” he greeted, drawing nearer. “What brings you here today?”
“We’ve come to visit your mother,” Olivia replied.
“That is most kind of you,” he said sincerely. “Do you call upon her often?”
“As much as time permits,” Olivia answered.
Evander stopped before them, his gaze resting on hers. “I have no doubt that she cherishes your visits.”
“She has always been kind to me. It is the least I can do. And her wit is as sharp as ever, even if her body betrays her.”
“Here—allow me.” Evander opened the parlor door.
As Olivia moved to follow her mother inside, she felt a light touch on her arm. She turned to find Evander beside her, his voice hushed. “I need your help.”
“Always,” she replied without hesitation.
His jaw tightened. “I have not yet told my mother about Bryon. Would you remain with me when I do?”
