Page 11 of Never Dare to Masquerade with a Maiden

Egad. Does the woman have eyes in the back of her head?

Olivia brought her gaze up to meet Lady Charlotte’s. “Yes, my lady.”

“Better.” With perfect poise and posture, the countess slipped out of the gentlemen’s shadows and back into the mainstream of Mayfair pedestrians.

Olivia dreaded visiting this part of town for one reason and one reason only. And that reason was headed her way. She slipped behind Lady Charlotte, who abruptly stopped, turned around, and asked, “Miss O. Whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing, my lady. I simply do not wish to get in the way.” She bent her head lower, praying Lady Charlotte would let the matter be.

“You have skillfully dodged the crowd all morning. I believed I’d made myself quite clear that you are to stay at my side. I doubt you suddenly decided to disobey me without a reason. Now, out with it, or I will make a scene.”

Of course, her prayers would continue to go unanswered. Never, in all the years she’d sought the help of some divine being, had her prayers been granted.

That wasn’t exactly true; there was that one instance, which continued to haunt her memories. That boy was now a man, one who was about to cross her path; the heart aching visions of his young, ghostly white features flashed before her and again stole every molecule of air from her being.

She peered up at Lady Charlotte, who was extremely intuitive and rather adept at reading Olivia’s mind. “Lord Guernsey.” His name passed through Olivia’s lips as an eerie whisper.

With no obvious reaction, Lady Charlotte turned about and waited. Surely, her employer wasn’t expecting her to come face-to-face with the man she’d skillfully avoided for a decade.

“Guernsey? Bah. He's as harmless as a gnat,” Lady Charlotte muttered and then reached slightly behind her to grab Olivia’s arm and tug her forward. “Trust me. It’s in everyone’s best interest to face one's challenges rather than to hide.”

“Not when it comes to him.” Olivia averted her gaze back to the ground.

“Chin up and take note,” Lady Charlotte ordered as a pair of glossy Hessians appeared in Olivia’s lowered gaze. “Ah, how lovely to see you, Lady Guernsey. Lord Guernsey. Lady Anne.”

Lady Anne?

Curiosity won, and she peered up to find the most beautiful, modest, yet eye-catching woman on Warren’s arm. Is she Warren’s intended?

She ought to think of him as Lord Guernsey now, but she couldn’t. The title was too linked to Warren’s father in her mind, the man who had banished her and her mama from Guernsey Manor all those years ago.

Olivia willed herself not to stare but lost the battle. Lady Anne was perfect. The lady’s beguiling smile, her sun-kissed blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes were mesmerizing. It was no surprise Warren would attract the attention of such a remarkable lady.

She ignored the rambling of greetings and formalities until Lady Guernsey grabbed her hands and proclaimed, “Lady Charlotte, you must introduce me to your friend.” Lady Guernsey gave Olivia’s hands a squeeze. If Lady Guernsey did not recognize her after all these years, mayhap Warrant wouldn’t either.

She turned to face her employer and waited for Lady Charlotte to correct the matron. She was no peer; she was a maid, and a rather poorly trained one at that. But then, Olivia’s heart sank at the twinkle of mischief in the countess’s eyes.

With the cheerful smile that brightened Lady Charlotte’s features, her blasted employer replied, “I’d be honored to. Miss Olivia, this is Lady Guernsey, who was a dear friend of my mama’s and her son Lord Guernsey, and Lady Anne. Lady Anne’s father’s country seat neighbors that of Guernsey Manor.”

Olivia had steeled herself, expecting the mention of the country estate that had altered her entire outlook on the peerage, yet as soon as Lady Charlotte mentioned Guernsey Manor, the shiver of fear that rolled down her spine left her cold and mute. She should curtsy and acknowledge the trio in front of her, except she stood frozen in place.

“Miss Olivia.” Lady Guernsey broke the awkward silence. “I would be delighted if you would⁠—”

“Olivia?” Warren blurted, cutting off Lady Guernsey mid-sentence.

Her heart stuttered. Does he recognize me?

Warren’s gaze bore down upon her. The frown lines that formed upon his brow would suggest he didn’t, yet there was a hint of familiarity in his gaze.

Lady Anne squeezed his arm, and he glanced over at the woman who belonged next to him as she whispered, “Don’t be rude.”

Clearly the two were close, as the pair had abandoned all formalities. Olivia’s chest ached, and she took a half step closer to Lady Charlotte, who came to her rescue. “My apologies, Lady Guernsey, but it appears as if my dear husband is causing traffic mayhem.”

The group all turned their attention to the street where Lord Camden was standing on the steps of his stationary coach and waving his hands about. Lady Charlotte linked her arm through Olivia’s, and as they slipped away, the countess said to the trio, “I shall look forward to your company later this eve at my brother’s soiree.” Not waiting for a response, Lady Charlotte maneuvered herself and Olivia through the crowd with an agile accuracy that placed them next to Lord Camden within moments as if they had the main thoroughfare to themselves.

Once they were within arm’s length, Lord Camden scooped up his wife and placed her inside the carriage. Olivia was about to turn to the back to ride next to the footman, when Lord Camden stopped her. “Where are you going, Miss O? Up you get.”

Forgetting all her sense of propriety, she blurted, “Maids don’t ride in the carriage. They ride in the back.” Coming to her senses, she added, “My lord.”