WidowsWickedWish (9 page)

Olivia’s first days in London were a whirlwind of activity.
On the long journey south she had decided to put aside her mourning. Never mind
that it had only been eighteen months and some in Society would frown upon her
decision to dispense with another six months of half-mourning. She was finished
with the hypocrisy of mourning a man who’d done nothing to deserve her loyalty,
much less her grief.

With that thought firmly in mind, she visited her modiste
for a new wardrobe, foregoing the demure, ruffled, pale pastels she’d worn
during her marriage in favor of gowns in bold, jeweled colors with lower
necklines and simple, classical lines. She had her shoulder-length dark tresses
cropped short to frame her face once more.

She hired Mrs. Sophie Miles to care for Fanny and Charlie,
instilling her and her daughter Meg in the small bedchamber that opened off the
nursery. Mrs. Radcliffe took the news of her discharge with her customary cold
dignity.

Olivia spent her evenings dining quietly with her siblings
and cousins, catching up on all the latest gossip and settling into what she
hoped would be a more contented life without a husband to ignore and humiliate
her in equal measure.

Three days after she returned to Town Olivia sat down to write
a note to Jack inviting him call upon her. She handed the missive to Johnston
with only a moment’s embarrassment, and set off to visit Henry in the Mayfair
mansion in which she’d been raised.

“Happy Birthday, brother. How does it feel to be three years
from thirty?” she asked as she breezed into Henry’s study.

He immediately rose from his chair behind the massive desk
that had belonged to their father.

“Likely better than being two years from that august age,”
he teased back, pulling her into a fierce hug. “Have I told you how happy I am
you’ve finally returned to Town?”

“Only ten or eleven times.” Olivia leaned back to smile up
at him.

“Yes, well you’ll have to forgive me for making it an even
dozen,” Henry replied. “But come, sit and have a spot of tea with your ancient
brother.”

As they enjoyed a light repast and went over the estate
account books, Olivia studied her brother who had somehow transformed from a
shy, rather bumbling young man to a renowned rake with all of London clamoring
for his attention.

The Earl of Hastings was the spitting image of their father,
tall and broad-shouldered and too handsome for his own good. His golden-blond
hair was tousled, curls falling over his forehead and brushing against his
cravat. His eyes were as blue as a cloudless sky and forever filled with
merriment. His facial structure might have been sculpted by a master craftsman,
from his high cheekbones to his square chin and long, straight nose.

But it wasn’t Henry startling good looks alone that had
ladies lining up to be his next paramour and gentlemen begging to befriend him.
The Earl of Hastings was possessed of a quick mind, a generous heart, a
boisterous sense of humor and a mischievous streak of deviltry.

And a keen financial acumen.

“I’m thinking to offer Palmerton House for lease when the
Season ends,” Olivia tossed the words out, fully prepared to argue the benefits
of such a plan.

“You could likely get a pretty penny,” Henry replied after
only a slight hesitation. “Some cit or foreigner would jump at the chance to
take up residence in an earl’s house. Of course tongues will wag.”

“Tongues have been wagging for quite some time now,” Olivia
replied with a wave of her hand. “Between the scandal of our recognizing
Beatrice as our sister and her subsequent marriage to Simon, not to mention
Palmerton’s ignoble end, we should have been ostracized years ago. And yet...”

“Who would dare to cut us?” Henry asked. “We are related to
half the great families.”

“Perhaps you can assist me in finding a smaller residence in
Town?” Olivia asked as she topped off their tea cups.

“What precisely are you looking for?”

“Five or six bedchambers, quarters for half a dozen
servants, two parlors, a large nursery, small dining room, kitchen and a
garden.”

“Are you still of a mind to hire a governess for Frances?”
Henry asked around a ginger biscuit.

“Are you still of a mind to argue she is too young to need
one?” she parried.

“Pax!” Henry lifted his hands in the air in mock surrender.
“I’ve come to the conclusion you are likely right that my niece needs to keep
her mind occupied.”

“What was it that made you see the light?” Olivia asked with
a laugh. “Was it the sight of her climbing along the top shelf in your library
in search of the naughty books adults keep up high? Or perhaps it was the
squirrel she was attempting to lure off the windowsill and into her
bedchamber?”

“Actually it was the lecture she handed down on the risk I
run of being saddled with an unwanted wife should I not curb my wayward
tendencies,” he answered, trying to appear stern while a grin fought for
freedom.

“Wayward tendencies?”

“I assume she heard you and Beatrice speaking on the
subject.”

“Bea and I are worried about you.”

“You’d best do your worrying out of earshot of Lady Frances
lest she start spouting such nonsense in polite company,” Henry warned.

“She has become something of a spy about the house,” she
admitted.

“I imagine she is bored after more than a year of freedom at
Idyllwild.”

“The trouble is I’m not quite certain how to go about
finding her a governess,” Olivia replied. “I visited a number of agencies but
they seemed only to want to recommend I wait a few years. Or to offer up older
candidates, more nurse than governess.”

“I have a suggestion,” Henry began and Olivia did not miss
the hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Why do I get the feeling I will not like your suggestion?”
she asked suspiciously.

“Now, just hear me out, won’t you?”

“I’m listening.”

“I happen to know of a well-bred lady who is at present
looking for just such a position,” Henry said. “Miss Josephine Amherst.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Olivia asked.

“She is the daughter of one of the deans at Cambridge,”
Henry answered. “You likely remember me complaining about Professor Amherst.”

“Your mathematics instructor?”

“The one.”

“And his daughter is looking…oh wait, didn’t I read in the
Times not long ago that Miss Amherst was soon to be wed,” she asked in
confusion. “To Lord Masterson? Has the wedding been called off?”

“It has.”

“Tell me you had nothing to do with the end of the lady’s
betrothal,” Olivia cried, knowing the truth already.

“Masterson is eighty years old if he is a day. What lady in
her right mind would want to marry him?” Henry answered, no answer at all.

“Henry.”

“Josie only wanted a bit of fun before she married the old
toad,” he replied with barely a trace of shame.

“Henry! You cannot run about seducing innocent young
ladies.” Olivia rose and paced away from her brother before spinning around to
glare at him. “You will be caught and Fanny’s prediction will become truth.”

“Good God, I don’t take innocents to my bed. And I can’t
remember the last time I had to seduce a woman, more’s the pity. Besides which,
I would hardly suggest you hire one of my past lovers as my niece’s governess.”

“Then what sort of fun was Miss Amherst looking for?” Olivia
asked as she settled back into her seat beside him.

“Well…as to that…she was looking for just that sort of fun
when she sneaked into my bedchamber, or thought she was,” Henry admitted. “In
truth Josie was only looking for a way out of the marriage.”

“And thought that if you ruined her, Masterson wouldn’t have
her,” she finished for him.

“But I did not ruin her,” he hurried to explain.
“Unfortunately she was caught sneaking into her house with the dawn and
Masterson ended the betrothal.”

“He jilted her?”

“He was honorable enough to allow her to cry off but her
father tossed her from the house anyway.”

“Good Lord,” Olivia breathed.

“She’s a good girl, truly gifted mathematically,” Henry
replied, taking her hands in his. “She only needs someone to give her a
chance.”

Olivia looked down at their joined hands, his so much larger
and darker than hers.

She trusted Henry, trusted his instincts and his devotion to
Fanny and Charlie.

She looked up and met his eyes. “I will meet with her.”

“You won’t be sorry, Olivia,” Henry promised.

“I’ve only agreed to see her, to speak with her and make my
own decision,” she cautioned as she rose to depart. “Why don’t you bring her
around for tea one day this week?”

“I’ll send a note around to her straight away.” Henry rose
with her and walked her to the door of his study. “We’ll discuss a day and time
tonight at Mother’s grand gala.”

“Oh, good gracious! I completely forgot,” she admitted with
a groan.

Henry laughed, causing Olivia to look up at him as they
stood in the open doorway.

“Did you send around an invitation to Mr. Bentley?” she
asked.

“What’s the story there, Olivia?”

“Story?” she repeated.

“Don’t play the innocent with me, my lady,” Henry teased
with a grin. “You’ve never asked me to slip an invitation into Mother’s
outgoing pile.”

“Mother didn’t catch you at it, did she?” Olivia asked in an
attempt to change the subject.

“Tsk, tsk, none of that,” he replied. “Are you thinking to
dally with the man?”

Olivia huffed out a laugh. “Do I question you about your
amorous adventures?”

“You just did.”

“That’s different. I’m worried about you.”

Henry only lifted a brow in answer.

“You’ve no reason to worry about me,” Olivia said. “I’m not
hopscotching from bed to bed.”

“Have you been in his bed?” Henry demanded, all traces of
humor falling from his face.

“That is none of your business,” Olivia replied.

“Olivia, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I am a widow,” she answered. “No
different than the widows whose beds you visit.”

“You are not like any of those women!” Henry growled.

“My lord?”

The siblings turned as one to find a liveried footman
hovering near the front door, an expectant look on his pale features.

“Is Lady Palmerton’s carriage ready?” Henry asked.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I’d best be off then,” Olivia called out cheerfully, hoping
to make a quick escape.

“You are not like them,” Henry repeated quietly,
forestalling her with a hand on her arm. “You are a lady, Olivia. Not some tart
who invites a man into her bed solely for the pleasure of a good…”

“Rogering?” she supplied when he halted.

“Where did you…never mind,” Henry muttered. “My point is
that the ladies who invite me to their beds do so from boredom and because
they’ve heard the whispers of my…er, charms.”

“Alice told me last night that it has become something of a
rite of passage, taking you to bed,” Olivia informed him. “’A lady hasn’t
arrived if she hasn’t sampled Hastings’ charms,’ she said. As if it were all a
game.”

“It is a game,” he agreed. “A great rollicking game.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” she asked.

“Off with you, dearest Olivia.” Henry bowed over her hand.
“Until tonight.”

As she settled into the town carriage for the short journey
home, she couldn’t help smiling. She had missed her family. It was comforting
to be surrounded by uncles, aunts, cousins and siblings who loved her. And
perhaps now that she’d returned after an extended time away, she and her mother
could find some way to make peace.

She pushed the melancholy thought away and concentrated on
the night ahead and the man she would see after nearly four months.

Continuing their affair in Town, and during the height of
the Season, would prove tricky but Olivia found herself looking forward to the
occasional clandestine rendezvous, to both the quick couplings and the long,
luxurious lovemaking they’d shared at Idyllwild.

She imagined him pulling her into dark alcoves and moonlit
gardens to have his way with her while the
ton
went about their
merrymaking wholly unaware of their exploits.

She looked forward to riding out with him, to dancing with
him, to spending quiet afternoons with him in a tranquil garden behind a cozy
little house in Bedford or Hanover Square.

She thrilled to imagine Jack sneaking into her house through
the servants’ entrance to spend blissful nights in her bed before sneaking back
out before dawn.

He might call upon her and linger over tea until all of her
other callers departed. She might lead him to her chamber to frolic away the
summer afternoons.

She wasn’t an innocent girl, she was a mature widow. No one
would bat an eye were a gentleman to call upon her. In fact several gentlemen
had already taken it upon themselves to do just that and without invitation.

She wasn’t so foolish that she didn’t know what those
gentlemen were about. They thought she was in need of a husband, of a man to
rescue her from penury and loneliness. She suspected at least one of them had
called upon her at the direction of her mother.

Oh well, they, and all those like them, would soon learn
differently. Olivia intended to live her life on her own terms, attending only
those events that truly interested her, receiving only those callers whose
company she enjoyed, and giving no man reason to believe she welcomed his suit.

She had taken to heart her blunder at Idyllwild and would
not make the same mistake twice. She’d invited Jack into her bed and he’d
mistaken her interest entirely, talking of marriage as if it were a foregone
conclusion.

Cheeky man.

She only hoped that cheeky man had given up his intention to
wed her. And that he still wished to bed her.