“They were in search of appropriate attire for Miss Olivia, my lord. I could not say,” his butler replied. “But Lady Rayne did mention she ought to return before dinner when she departed.”
Sí, when she had departed without telling him where she was going.
When she had departed without informing him the dirty little squatter she had taken under her wing had turned out to be an Olivia rather than an Olly.
Alessandro seized upon that, allowing his irritation with her to overtake his longing. “Postpone dinner for an hour, if you please, Johnstone,” he directed. “Surely her ladyship will have returned from the village by that time. If you need me, I will be in the study.”
Johnstone bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”
“Gracias,” he muttered.
“De nada, my lord.” With that parting shot, the butler took his leave.
Alessandro glowered at the fellow’s back before abandoning the somber gallery with its missing paintings and returning to the equally depressing study. When his wife returned, he would have a word with her. A rather severe word. He did not appreciate being left in the dark about matters within his household, and she would know it.
*
It was wellpast the appointed hour for dinner when Catriona, her lady’s maid, and Olivia returned from their impromptu trip to the village. They had managed to find some reasonably fine cloth and even a few dresses for Olivia. Fortunately, Sadler was a deft hand at sewing, and she was leading the charge in seeing the child properly clothed as befit a genteel young lady.
The grimy, breeches-wearing scamp would soon be no more. And Catriona was making it her mission to see Olivia properly dressed, educated, and given the chance at life she had deserved all along.
But when Johnstone greeted them at the front door, his aggrieved expression suggested the buoyancy of victory was about to plummet to the earth.
“Run along Olivia,” she told her charge. “Sadler will see you are washed and dressed in one of your new gowns for dinner. I shall see you later.”
Olivia doffed her cap, reminding Catriona that something would need to be done with her shorn locks and that her old habits would not leave her with the mere donning of a dress and petticoats. Sadler shared a look with her before leading the girl off to the massive staircase.
“Is something amiss, Johnstone?” she asked after her lady’s maid and Olivia were beyond earshot.
The butler cleared his throat. “It is his lordship, my lady. Forgive me, but I fear I made an error. I had not realized Lord Rayne was not privy to the identity of Miss Olivia.”
She frowned. “Do not worry yourself over it. The discovery was a new one, and his lordship was quite busy with his ledgers. I did not want to burden him with it when I was able to have it all in hand myself.”
“Nevertheless, his lordship was distressed when I relayed the information to him. I am afraid he has—”
A loud bang, followed by a muffled male voice that was undeniably angry, interrupted the butler’s words.
“What was that?” she asked Johnstone.
The domestic sighed. “That, I fear, is his lordship.”
“What is he doing?” she dared query. Whatever it was, it sounded angry.
And violent.
The butler grimaced. “After my regrettable discussion with the earl, he discovered a portrait of his mother missing from the study.”
Alessandro’s beloved mother. Anguish sank through her along with dread.
“Thank you for the warning, Johnstone,” she said sincerely. Though she had not been the Countess of Rayne for long, she had already come to deeply appreciate her husband’s staff. They had welcomed her, and they were efficient and attentive. Most of all, they cared.
And she was grateful for them. All of them.
“Of course, my lady.” Johnstone looked as if he was about to add something, but paused.
“What is it?” she asked, concern washing over her anew. “Is there something else I should know about?”
“No.” The butler cleared his throat, casting his gaze to the floor. “Rather, I think you are good for his lordship, and I am pleased to see it. We are, all of us belowstairs, well pleased to see it. I am happy to serve you, my lady.”
