She pressed Finnegan protectively against her chest. “How dare you! He has feelings, you know.”
“And my father,” Evander added, “would likely mistake him for a rat and order his immediate execution.”
“He is not a rat,” she declared. “He is a noble creature of refined breeding and delicate constitution.”
Evander chuckled, a sound that warmed the air between them for a brief instant. Then, he gave her a respectful bow. “Until we meet again.”
“Good day, Evander.”
She remained where she stood, watching him disappear down the street. His shoulders sagged slightly, and his stride lacked the determination she had always associated with him. He looked lost in thought—or perhaps simply lost. Her heart ached at the sight.
If only there were something she could do.
With a sigh, she turned and made her way home. She entered through the front gate and ascended the gravel drive. The front door opened just before she reached it, revealing Sterling, the ever-composed butler.
“My lady,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I trust your outing was pleasant?”
Olivia handed Finnegan over with a resigned expression. “Will you see that he’s fed? I believe he’s positively famished after our long, exhausting promenade.”
“Of course. I shall do so at once,” Sterling said before departing from the entry hall to do her bidding.
Alone in the entry hall, Olivia paused. Her gaze drifted upward to the grand staircase, but she turned instead towards the back of the house, heading for her brother’s study. As she passed by ancestral portraits, she noted how each solemn face seemed to stare down at her with equal parts judgment and curiosity.
The door to Richard’s study stood open. She approached, but just as she stepped forward, a giggle floated out.
Olivia rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Newlyweds.”
Undeterred, she entered. Richard and Dosia were seated side by side behind his desk. Ledgers and papers were strewn in front of them, but they seemed to have eyes only for each other.
“Please tell me I’m interrupting something inappropriate,” Olivia drawled.
Both turned at the sound of her voice. Only Dosia had the grace to look the slightest bit abashed.
“Sister,” Richard said, smiling, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”
She sank into one of the chairs opposite the desk. “I saw Evander in Hyde Park just now.”
At once, Richard’s expression turned grave. “How is he?”
“Not well,” Olivia replied honestly. “He’s… unraveling.”
Turning to Dosia, Richard explained, “His brother—Viscount Westmere—died at sea, along with his friend, Lord Harwood.”
Dosia gasped softly, her eyes widening. “Lord Harwood… not the same one who?—?”
“Yes, the very same,” Olivia said before fixing a pointed look at Richard. “You knew about Bryon and didn’t tell me.”
He winced. “I didn’t think it was my place to do so.”
Olivia shook her head. “You should have told me.”
“How are you holding up?” Dosia interjected.
With a small, dispassionate shrug, Olivia replied, “It hardly matters now.”
Dosia’s eyes narrowed with quiet sympathy. “You loved Lord Harwood once. It’s all right to mourn him.”
But Olivia didn’t want sympathy. Not now. Not when her thoughts were so muddled and her emotions felt like distant echoes of what they once were. “Can we speak of something else?”
