Lady Olivia To The Rescue (17 page)

Her eyes met Sheridan’s, and he smiled at her. Her face shone with delight, and he was drawn back to Maddie’s words—was the past any reason to spend the rest of his life alone?

He looked down at his arm and gently disengaged himself from his friend. “If you will excuse me, Maddie?”

“Certainly, Sheri,” she said, sending him off with a little push. “Good luck.”

Olivia left her aunt’s side and stepped into the ballroom. He knew she was coming to him, to talk with him, to dance with him—anything he chose to offer. His chest swelled as his heart was gripped by some undefined emotion.

“Lord Sherida…”

He ignored the voice. He ignored the smiles of recognition and greeting as he crossed the crowded room. He ignored everything but her. Olivia. Coming to him.

He saw Richard put his hand on Olivia’s arm, and she stopped.

Sheridan stopped, too, his heart in his throat.

Though she glanced in his direction, she nodded to his friend and took his arm, allowing him to lead her away from Sheridan and off the dance floor.

Sheridan growled, “Hell and blast!”

The young lady next to him gasped and moved away, but Sheridan didn’t care. He seethed with anger and jealousy as he watched Richard bend his head to Olivia’s.

After a moment, Sheridan realized she was not going to tear away from Richard and fly into his own arms. His anger melted into misery, and he left the ballroom and the house, not even stopping for his carriage. He walked through the streets to his town house and proceeded to get roaring drunk—all alone.

Five minutes passed before Olivia thought about Sheridan and returned to the ballroom. Spying Lady Thorpe, she approached her on the pretence of telling her that her former governess was as good as hired at the school. Then, very casually, Olivia asked where Sheridan had gone.

“Gone? I have no idea. He was with me one minute, and then he bolted. I thought he was going to speak to you, my dear.”

“Oh, well, I am certain he is here someplace. I hope you enjoy yourself,” said Olivia.

“I shall. I am just on my way to sit with your aunt. She is always such a delight to listen to. A woman of great good sense.”

It took Olivia only a few minutes to scour the various spots where Sheridan might linger. Determining that he had left without a word, a slow heat began to burn.

Olivia knew that something had gone terribly wrong, but she was also very put out by Sheridan’s odd departure. Surely he had not been that jealous. She would not have gone with Sir Richard if he had not shown her the message his servant had brought, telling him that they could meet the very next day with Miss Divine. Excited to have her new project finally under way, Olivia had babbled on about what they would accomplish for those unfortunate members of the demimonde.

She had thought, foolish female that she was, that when their eyes had met across the floor, Sheridan had been intent on her. Obviously, she had completely misread his silent message. Or perhaps he had not even been looking at her. For all she knew, he might have been staring at someone or something behind her.

The concept that Lord Sheridan might have been staring at some other lady with that single-minded intensity sent a flame of jealousy raging through her. How dare he! And who? Who else could he…

Olivia took a deep breath. Now who was being unreasonable? She could not rebuke him for leaving in a huff of jealousy when her own was out of control.

No, it was merely a misunderstanding—something they could fix and then laugh about. She would have to be patient until she saw him again. On this sane thought, Olivia acknowledged the young man asking for the pleasure of a dance and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.

Although her ball had not gone precisely as planned, she would not allow herself to consider it a complete disaster. At the least, she now knew he truly cared for her. He hadn’t said it, but the admiration in his eyes and his manner of speaking in the drawing room were proof enough.

And for the moment, she would have to be satisfied.

“My lord, Mr. Fitzsimmons has requested your presence in the study. Mr. Butters is with him.”

If his valet’s voice made him groan, the curtains being opened to allow the morning sun inside made him dive under the covers again.

“Go away.”

“Certainly, my lord, but Mr. Fitzsimmons said to tell you that it was very important.”

Sheridan threw the pillow off his head and sat up. He regretted it instantly, as a wave of pain resonated in his head and a violent upheaval tore at his stomach.

Holding out one hand, he said, “Get me…”

“Here, my lord,” said Fenwick, handing him a small glass with clear liquid.

Sheridan downed it in a gulp and then waited. After a moment, he nodded. The pain in his head was still there, but he no longer felt in need of a bucket.

“Coffee, my lord?”

“Not yet, just get me my dressing gown. I’ll be demmed if I’ll go to the trouble of dressing for this.”

“Very good, my lord,” said Fenwick, easing him into a brocade dressing gown. “If I could just…” The valet sighed and put the brush back on the dressing table while Sheridan strode out of the room.

When Sheridan entered the study, he headed straight for the sideboard and the tray of decanters. Pouring a small quantity of brandy, he turned to face his secretary and the Bow Street Runner. “Good morning, my lord,” said Fitzsimmons.

When Sheridan said nothing, he continued.

“Mr. Butters has some good news.”

“Well, out with it.”

“It’s like this, my lord. I haven’t seen the subject with any ladies in the past week. He has been to a Miss Divine’s house several times, but as far as I can ascertain, she has never been at home.”

“Evelina Divine?” asked Sheridan. “Why the deuce would Richard go there? She’s under the protection of Pinchot.”

“‘As I said, my lord, she is not home anyway, and he never stays more than a few minutes. I supposed that it was one of the maids or the housekeeper that interested him, but they are all too old and ugly.”

“There’s been no one else?”

“No, my lord.” The Bow Street Runner flipped open a small notebook and said, “He’s been driving twice with that Lady Olivia. And he has called there two…no, three times.”

“Ah ha!”

“No, my lord. There have always been others present. The drawing room draperies were open, and I could tell there were a number of people inside.”

“I don’t understand. He must be slipping away when you are unaware.”

“Not a chance. I’ve got someone watching his rooms all night long, and I’m there all day.”

“Where else does he go?”

“He has gone to his tailor, to Tattersall’s, to Jackson’s Boxing Salon twice, and he’s out in the evening all hours, but there are hundreds of people at those affairs. He goes to his club each morning for breakfast. Oh, and he also frequents a small coffeehouse off of Piccadilly. I followed him inside, but he was just sitting there, having a cup of coffee.”

“This is all very frustrating. Butters, he has to be meeting my lady friend somewhere.”

“Perhaps, sir, it would he better if you told me the name of your lady friend and I followed her.”

Sheridan waved his hand and said, “As you have probably guessed, the lady in question is Lady Olivia Cunningham, but there is no need. I have bribed her tiger to let me know if she goes anywhere untoward.”

The Runner dug his foot into the carpet before clearing his throat. “If you’ll forgive me for sayin’ it, my lord, perhaps her servant is not being completely truthful with you.”

“Well, of course he…” Sheridan’s indignation faded as the Runner continued.

“I understand she has a reputation as a very kind lady. When I asked the footman near the front door about his mistress, he told me to…well, he did not give me any information about the lady and that is unusual. Most of ’em will spill the soup for only a bob or two.”

“I see. Yes, you are probably right, Butters. No doubt her tiger simply pocketed the coins and has said nothing.”

“So do you want me to switch and keep an eye on Lady Olivia?”

“Yes, but finish out this day with Sir Richard. Tomorrow you can switch to Lady Olivia for a couple of days. After that, if there is nothing to report, then I will simply call it off.”

“Very good, my lord.” The short, little man gave a stiff bow and left them.

The dedicated secretary cleared his throat.

“You can speak, Fitz. We have been together too long for you to worry that I will be offended,” said Sheridan.

“I was just wondering why you are so certain that there is anything havey-cavey going on between Sir Richard and Lady Olivia Cunningham?”

Sheridan gave a mirthless chuckle. After a moment, he said, “I am not certain, but I want to be sure before I make another mistake in marrying.”

The secretary gasped in surprise, and Sheridan gave a dry chuckle.

“I am not ready to declare myself. I mean to say, I might not be so fortunate this time as I was the last… Devil take me. I don’t mean that. Losing the mother of my children was tragic. And though my wife despised the country life I required, she was a good mother to Rebekah. If she had lived, she would have been a good mother to Arthur, too. Heaven knows, the boy needs someone else to appreciate the things he enjoys.”

“I would not worry about the young earl, my lord. Just because he prefers reading about horses to riding them does not mean he will not be a satisfactory marquess one day. The scientific aspect of farming should intrigue him, and he has a very quick mind.”

“Thank you, Fitz. I can see that Arthur does have at least one ally at home.”

“You are his best ally, my lord.”

“I try. I just don’t seem to understand him very well. But never mind. First, I need to sort out this other matter.”

“Can I do anything to help, my lord?”

“You are already doing everything you can by taking care of all the other details of my life. Thank you. You are more than just a secretary, Fitz. You are a friend.” Sheridan extended his hand, and the blushing secretary shook it.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I am going out to my club now. If Butters should happen to return with news…”

“I will send for you immediately.”

Sheridan strolled out the door, feeling very much more the thing. His stomach had settled down, and the ache in his head was growing dull. He had not done that in years—drowning his sorrows.

Now he remembered why. It would not happen again.

Olivia climbed into the closed coach, and they were off. The coach moved slowly through the busy streets, carrying her to the small coffeehouse off Piccadilly Street.

The butterflies that occupied her stomach took flight as the group neared its destination. Except for those few encounters at Vauxhall, Olivia had never spoken to, or even been in the same room, as someone’s mistress. And Evelina Divine had evidently been at her position—did one call it that?—for a very long time.

The carriage stopped, and Harold got out. Rattle climbed off the back of the carriage and kept an eye out, too. After looking up and down the street, Harold offered his hand to help Olivia descend.

Pulling a veil over her face, Olivia hopped down.

“Wait here, Rattle,” she whispered then laughed nervously for acting so secretive. “Harold, come in with me and guard the door to the parlour.”

Inside, she nodded to the owner who cocked his head toward a door at the back of the room. Olivia hurried through the quiet coffeehouse and opened the rear door.

Sir Richard ushered her inside and closed the door. “Good morning, my lady. May I present Evelina Divine?”

Olivia had the immediate impression that this was a lady, not someone’s mistress. On closer inspection, Olivia could see that the woman was made up and that her clothes were perhaps a little too revealing. Other than that, she could have passed for a member of the
ton
.

“Good morning, Miss Divine,” said Olivia.

“And Evelina, this is Lady Olivia Cunningham,” said Sir Richard.

“Good morning, my lady,” said the redheaded woman in cultured tones. Olivia must have looked surprised, for Evelina added, “I used to be on the stage. Accent work was my specialty.”

“I see. I am so pleased you agreed to meet with me, Miss Divine. I hope the time was not inconvenient,” said Olivia, taking the seat Sir Richard offered.