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A small wave of relief crashed over his soul. At least things with Lord Dayton appeared to be going as well as Phillip had hoped.
“And that is your dance, I believe, Margaret!” Lady Dayton exclaimed, who, thus far, had said nothing more than a simple greeting. “Lord Monteforte, if you will.” She gestured towards her daughter, who was now waiting expectantly, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
“But of course,” Phillip answered at once, painting a smile on his own face as he bowed towards Lady Margaret and then offered her his arm. As he did so, the very same face caught his eye, the very same young lady standing and watching him only a short distance away. Something like shame crept into his face once more, but Phillip forced himself not to feel anything at all. Turning his head away, he led Lady Margaret out to the middle of the ballroom, determined not to look over his shoulder for the mysterious young lady.
And yet, despite his fortitude, despite his determination, Phillip heard the very words he had told himself not to express being expelled from his mouth.
“Do you have another sister, Lady Margaret?” he asked, as they found a set. “The lady in the silver gown seemed known to you.”
Lady Margaret’s face tightened, but she smiled demurely, although her eyes did not light up even a little. “Our cousin, Lady Olivia,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “Now, do tell me whether or not you are an excellent dancer, Lord Monteforte, so that I shall know if I need to watch my toes from your feet!”
He laughed and assured her that he was quite competent and that she had nothing to fear from him. The name Lady Olivia stuck to his mind however so that, even as he danced, he could not help but go over it again and again, as though he feared he might forget it.
He had to push her from his mind, he knew, but neither her face nor the pain in her voice when she had berated him for his outburst left him for the remainder of the evening. He laughed, smiled, and conversed—just as he might do on any other occasion—but deep within his heart, that young lady lingered. And no matter what he did, Phillip could not remove her from there.
Chapter Three
“Do you really think it is wise?”
Olivia knew she ought not to eavesdrop, but something in her aunt’s tone seemed to force her to stop. Hesitating just outside her uncle’s study, she held her breath as she waited to see what he might say.
“I do not think there is anything particularly wrong with the fellow,” Lord Dayton said calmly. “What is your concern, my dear?”
Olivia frowned, wondering just whom they were speaking of. Her needlework in her hand, she pressed herself against the wall, making sure to stay a few steps away from the door which was, she noted, a little ajar. Inwardly, she shrugged, trying to tell herself that it was her aunt and uncle’s fault for not closing the door properly instead of admitting that she was deliberately listening into what was a private conversation.
“We do not know him very well at all,” Lady Dayton protested, sounding more than a little concerned. “And now he is to call upon your daughters this afternoon?”
Lord Dayton chuckled. “I thought you would be pleased, my dear!” he said, laughing. “To have an earl call upon our daughters is a magnificent thing, is it not?”
“But we know nothing of his character!” Lady Dayton said, as Olivia rolled her eyes heavenwards, realizing precisely who they were speaking of. “You have not had a long acquaintance with him, I believe.”
“I have known him for some time, my dear,” Lord Dayton answered, his tone now a little gentler than before. “I have watched his behavior in society, I have enquired about his character, and I am convinced that he would do very well for one of our daughters.”
Lady Dayton sniffed disparagingly, as though to suggest that she did not quite believe her husband’s remarks. “I suppose I must trust you in this,” she said, as Olivia made to walk quietly past the study. “And if he does not suit, then we could easily throw Olivia in his path.”
Olivia froze, her heart thudding furiously in her chest. After her f
irst meeting with this Lord Monteforte last evening, she could think of nothing worse than being flung at him by her aunt and uncle. She knew very well that Lady Dayton had high hopes for her daughters, wanting them to be wed to someone who bore a higher title than that of their father – namely a marquess or a duke – but she might have to be contented with an earl for at least one of them. What Olivia did not want was to be forced into any sort of engagement. She had never once thought that her uncle would do such a thing, given his willingness to allow his daughters to make their own choices. Although…he would guide them towards respectable gentlemen, of course.
“That is a wise thought, my dear,” she heard Lord Dayton say, making a cold shiver run down her spine. “But for the moment, let us consider him first for one of our daughters. I am sure you will find him as agreeable as I, even if he does not hold the title you desire.”
Olivia did not wait to hear more. Instead, she hurried away as quickly as she could, careful to make as little noise as possible as she practically ran up the long staircase to her bedchamber. She could not bear the thought of being given no say in the matter as regarded her future, of being forced to marry someone she did not know and did not care anything for – and yet that appeared to be what both her aunt and her uncle were thinking. If Lord Monteforte did not suit either Louisa or Margaret, or if Lady Dayton insisted that he was not a good match for her daughters, then there was very little else that Olivia would be able to do. If she refused, then her uncle could easily refuse to allow her to come back to London again, and whilst she had her own fortune at twenty-one, it was only to come to her if she was a married lady. If she was not wed, then what would become of her? Most likely, when she was old enough to be classed as a spinster, her uncle would force her to become a companion to some young debutante or an aged relative so that she would not be a burden to him. The very thought had her stomach roiling, her heart quickening with tension and fear.
Lord Monteforte had made such a poor impression on her that the thought of having to be wed to him filled her with a sense of dread. She did not want a husband with a cruel tongue and with no regard for those about him. That, she was sure, was the worst possible characteristic for a gentleman to possess, for those with a cruel arrogance would only bring pain on those near to them without any regard or consideration.
“Oh, my lady!”
Just as she threw open the bedroom door, Olivia was shocked to discover Betty standing by the window, with something held in her hand that caught the light, sending rainbows all through the room.
“Betty?” she said, closing the door slowly and seeing the maid’s face turn ashen. “What is it you have there?”
Betty let out a strangled sob, one hand flying to her mouth. “I was only looking at it, Lady Olivia,” she said, hurrying towards Olivia and holding out the beautiful piece of jewelry. “I had no intention of–”
“Where did you get this from?” Olivia asked darkly, feeling herself becoming upset with the realization that her maid had taken something of note from one of her two cousins and brought it into Olivia’s bedchamber. “And why did you bring it here?”
Betty stopped dead, her mouth a little ajar and her eyes wide. She stared at Olivia for a few moments, silence enveloping them both.
“I–I did not take it from anywhere, Lady Olivia,” she said eventually, her voice rasping just a little. “I mean no disrespect, truly. I found it under your pillow when I was plumping them and thought only to look at it.”
