Page 37 of Never Dare to Masquerade with a Maiden

Warren stared at Lord Camden as he left the room without another word. Had the earl actually insinuated he was remiss in his duties?

“Warren?”

Olivia’s strained voice had him back on his knees as he answered, “Yes.”

“Why does it feel like everyone is conspiring against us?”

He wanted to pinch himself. Olivia had referred to them as us… like a couple, a team, partners… The glimmer of hope he’d held onto tight had blossomed into a spark that was determined to fan into a flame. Distracted, he remained silent and simply shrugged, garnering him a sweet smile and kiss on the forehead. When he was with Olivia, he didn’t have to have all the answers, he just had to be honest.

Chapter Thirteen

Olivia unraveled her clenched fists, one finger at a time. She had been forced to perch upon a stool that had been placed upon the makeshift platform that Lady Charlotte had ordered the staff to hastily erect. As soon as Lord Camden had sent word that she was injured and would not be able to join the others, Lady Charlotte and the others had returned with Madame Lennox in tow.

As time ticked by slowly, the throbbing in Olivia’s ankle had become unbearable, yet she wasn’t about to complain while Madame Lennox worked her magic, pinning material about Olivia’s body. The poor dressmaker was being ordered in one direction and then another by three very determined ladies, all of whom had unequivocally impeccable taste but extremely different visions for her gown.

Madame Lennox peered up with a pleading glance and whispered, “You must say something.”

“Are you mad?” she murmured and took in the fiercely determined ladies circling her.

Lady Charlotte turned to Lady Anne. “I beg to differ. Lace is what is needed, not ribbon.”

“I can tell you are in pain. How much longer are ye goin’ to put up with their nonsense?” The dressmaker lifted her hem and then let it fall again.

Lady Guernsey’s gaze lowered to her hem. “Olivia?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Your leg appears to be as large as an elephant's.” The older woman stepped up onto the dais and then assisted her to stand. When Olivia wobbled, Lady Guernsey steadied her as if she weighed no more than a feather and assisted her to sit upon the settee with a maternal touch Olivia had never been privy to before. Settling in next to her, Lady Guernsey said, “Going forward, you must not hold your tongue, especially in my presence.” She grabbed Olivia’s hand and patted it. “I can assure you I won’t hold mine about you.”

Why was Warren’s mama, who had always seemed uninterested in managing the staff, being so considerate?

Gaze fixated on their hands, Lady Guernsey said, “I’ve grown and matured over the years since you left Guernsey Manor. And since the passing of my husband, I’ve come to realize that I neglected much under my purview.”

At a loss for what to say, Olivia rubbed her thumb lightly against Lady Guernsey’s palm. The slight crinkle at the corners of Lady Guernsey’s eyes set Olivia at ease. While Madame Lennox was managing Lady Charlotte and Lady Anne, Olivia sat in peaceful silence with the older woman. It would be nice to have a mother to confide in, once more. Her mama had sheltered her from the world and fed her lies not unlike the way Warren’s father had done to him, out of fear not malice. However, when it had come time for her to stand on her own, she hadn’t been prepared for the world.

The door swung open, and Lord Camden walked in closely followed by Warren. The gentlemen’s demeanors were like day and night. The light and cheerful Lord Camden didn’t hesitate to approach Lady Charlotte, who was still debating over Olivia’s dress with Lady Anne. The earl wrapped an arm about his wife and smiled down at her as she glared back up at him.

After a minute or perhaps two, with their gazes locked on one another, Lady Charlotte sighed and then turned to Lady Anne. “I shall leave Olivia in your care.”

The couple left the room staring one another down as they continued the silent battle of wills.

Lady Anne turned and immediately began looking over the sample of ribbons alongside a visibly more relieved Madame Lennox.

“Not all husbands are as considerate as Lord Camden,” Lady Guernsey remarked in a wistful tone, drawing Olivia’s attention back to the matron.

Olivia studied the matron’s features. During the brief period she’d resided at Guernsey Manor, Warren’s mama mostly kept to herself, with her nose in a book or outdoors with watercolors. She’d observed Warren skillfully avoid his father, while simultaneously watching over his mama from afar. Olivia often wondered if Warren felt like an intruder in his own home, since he sneaked about like a thief most days. Lady Guernsey’s features brightened, and Olivia followed the matron’s gaze. Her son was pushing an ottoman toward them.

“You should have your leg elevated,” Warren barked at her as he positioned the footrest in front of her. He didn’t hoover over her. Instead, he stood and walked over to join Lady Anne and the dressmaker, who had found the courage to voice her own opinions on Olivia’s dress. He glanced over his shoulder at her, clearly still displeased.

Olivia shivered at the sight of Warren’s scowl. His dark, menacing features left no question as to his displeasure and were exactly as she remembered his father had been when he banished her from Guernsey Manor ten years ago. If he was this displeased at seeing her seated, it was a good thing he hadn’t entered earlier and seen her half standing. She raised her leg to rest upon the ottoman, and her jaw clenched as she settled her foot atop it. Her ankle was indeed tender and sore, but it was by no means worse than the ache that had torn at her heart the night she and her mama fled alongside Ian and his father.

Lady Guernsey squeezed her hand. “Dear, should Warren take you to your chambers?”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Olivia blurted, forgetting who she was addressing.

“You are the one Warren wishes to marry, and from the very first time we met, I knew you would be perfect for my son.” A tear escaped and trickled down the matron's cheek. “I had no say in the matter when I married Warren’s father. And while I wish to have you as my daughter-in-law, you shall have a choice. No one will force you to do anything against your will. I meant to share earlier that if you truly want to return to the kitchens, I shall support your decision. I simply wish you would give us a fair chance to get to know you better.”

“You don’t care that I’m not a blueblood?”