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‘It was Miss Ross I came to see,’ Olivia confided, allowing herself to be seated in the salon. ‘It is just that Mama and I had tickets for a private view at the Wolverton Gallery—some newly arrived studies from the artist’s tour of the continent, you understand—and now Mama has to take Cousin Jane to the dentist. She has an abscess.’
‘Very painful,’ Decima murmured, wondering just why this concerned them.
‘Very. And Cousin Jane—she is Mama’s companion, you see—is frightened of dentists, despite Mama telling her that all it requires is a little resolution on her part. So Mama is going with her, to stiffen her resolution.’
‘Indeed?’ Decima felt she would rather face a dozen dentists alone than have Mrs Channing as supporter.
‘So I wondered if you would like to come to the showing this afternoon,’ Olivia finished, finally coming to the point.
‘Would you not rather go with Lord Weston?’ Decima enquired, carefully turning back the cuffs of her gown, which had become slightly crumpled.
‘I did think he might enjoy it, but I have three cards, and I remembered you were interested in art, Miss Ross.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you, to recall that after so many years. And, please, will you not call me Decima? I would enjoy seeing the show, but I am certain Lord Weston would wish to accompany you.’
‘He says he cannot come today. Then, when I said I was going to ask you, he suggested that I also ask Sir Henry, as he said he would feel happier if I had a gentleman with me, rather than just a footman. He said you were rather a high stickler, Miss…Decima, I mean, and would no doubt feel more comfortable as well.
‘And as soon as he suggested it, I recalled what you had said last night, Sir Henry, about having enjoyed the Grand Tour, so…’ She came to a halt, rather out of breath with shyness. Decima thought she had never heard Olivia say so many words together before.
But what on earth was Adam thinking about? Obviously he had not the slightest suspicion that Henry might entertain warm feelings for his fiancée. Perhaps he was worried about Olivia being alone with her in case she let something slip about their snowbound adventure, or perhaps his motives were exactly as Olivia had described them. And what the wretch was doing describing her as a high stickler she could not imagine, unless he thought that would reach Mrs Channing’s ears and stop her fussing.
But, of course, after what Henry had just said, he would refuse. It was the only prudent thing to do.
‘How thoughtful of you, Miss Channing. I would be delighted. What time would you like to set out?’ Decima was too far away to kick him on the ankle, so instead she opened wide eyes at him. He smiled back ruefully as if to say, What can I do?
Invent an appointment, you idiot, she thought, wondering if she should remind him that he had promised to escort his mother that afternoon or invent some other fib, but it was too late, Henry and Olivia were happily making arrangements for them to collect her at two thirty that afternoon.
All Olivia’s qualms about an early visit appeared to have vanished as she chatted with Henry. Decima sat, willing her to go so that she could tell him exactly what she thought of his uncharacteristic lack of resolution, but all she could do was to sit there and provide the chaperonage she was certain Mrs Channing would be expecting.
Finally Olivia left. ‘Henry Freshford! What do you think you are—’
‘A letter for you, Miss Ross.’ It was Starling, the butler, proffering her a silver salver.
‘Thank you. No, Henry.’ He was leaving in the butler’s wake. ‘Don’t you dare sneak away until I have rung a peel over your head for this!’
‘Who is the letter from?’ Henry appeared uneasy. As well he might, she fumed.
‘Charlton. Oh dear, I do hope nothing is wrong with Hermione.’
‘You had better open it. I won’t run away.’
Decima slit the letter, unfolded it and began to read until she threw it down, fuming.
‘Bad news?’
‘The worst! No, no one is ill or dead, I do not mean that. But, Henry, he writes to say he is appalled that I have come jauntering up to London without informing him. It is misguided, extravagant and exactly what he might expect—I wonder he should sound so surprised, then!—and he and Hermione feel it their duty, at great inconvenience, to come up too and open the town house. Now, what can I do?’
‘You don’t have to do anything, do you?’ Henry asked. ‘He is no longer your trustee.’
‘But he will expect me to go everywhere with Hermione, and he will want to know exactly what I am doing and who I meet. And what about Adam?’
‘Well, as you are hardly carrying on a torrid affair with Weston, what is there for Charlton to concern himself with? If he meets him, he won’t be any the wiser about your little adventure—and Weston’s safely betrothed to Olivia.’
‘Which he won’t be if you carry on flirting with her,’ Decima retorted.
‘I am not flirting.’
‘You are certainly not doing anything about avoiding her, either. You are in love with her, she certainly enjoys your company—how much more contact will it take for her to feel something more?’
