“I just think of how happy Christian would be,” Eloisa replied in a low voice, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Olivia squeezed her hand once more. “He never even hoped for such a splendid match—in all respects. Now I know I did the right thing coming here. I wasn’t sure—” her voice broke.
“You did,” Olivia murmured. “No mother could have done more.”
Eloisa nodded.
“And I am not sure if you noticed,” Olivia said, in a lowered tone, wanting to give Eloisa time to recover herself. “But Nathanial seemed to have been struck by a young lady.”
“Miss Althea Wallis,” Eloisa said, exhaling a deep breath, “Yes. Exactly the sort of girl I would have imagined him falling for, too. We’ll see if his interest lasts.”
“I hope so. It might convince him that he does not need to be my chaperone.”
Eloisa laughed and Olivia could not help but feel swept up in the joy of the moment, despite her own troubles.
The rest of the evening passed in a similar fashion. They celebrated Natasha and Percy to the end of the masque, drinking and toasting and dancing. Augustus hardly left her side, although his presence was not conspicuous, and orchestrated, she knew, not to cause notice.
Still, there was no time for them to talk, and she couldn’t help, despite the revelry of the moment, to think of what they would discuss tomorrow. She was still so unsure of what to think. She didn’t think he would lie to her about the note and yet another explanation did not make sense. Because if he had not written it, someone had to have. The circle of people who had known about their relationship had been small, but she supposed that some could know about it who had not been expressly told. They had been young and surely had lacked discretion.
But who would have wanted to keep them apart? And who would have known about the ten guineas?
Olivia had no idea.
What disturbed her almost as much as thinking about such a person was what this revelation meant for her own personality, her sense of the world. She had built so much of herself on this early disappointment. She had turned away from all love at the age of twenty because she thought she could not trust it or even its appearance. She had honed herself for a cruel world. She had become pragmatic to the point of pain.
Lastly, suddenly, another, even more terrible thought hit her. As she stood in the ballroom, with a glass of champagne in her hand, as she listened to Percy recount the story of his and Natasha’s engagement for the third or fourth time, the question came upon her without warning.
If Augustus hadn’t dismissed her, what must he have thought when she disappeared?
Chapter Eighteen
This time, Augustusdid not wait for a decent hour before calling on Olivia. And, this time, he was heartened that he did not need to stew in the pretty parlor, wondering if she would appear. When he called and the butler admitted him, he was told that Olivia was already sitting there—quite at home and quite alone.
When he first took her in, as usual, he struggled to breathe. She was in a dress of striped, candy-yellow that made him want to strip it off of her and lick her until he forgot any taste but hers. But he was not there for that, he admonished himself. He was there to get to the bottom of what had happened between them all those years ago. Finally.
“Augustus,” she said, rising to meet him, and he took her hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed it, reveling in the smooth feel of her skin on his lips.
“Olivia. May I sit with you?”
She nodded and reseated herself on the sofa. When he sat beside her, he took her hand once more. She let him.
“I couldn’t sleep for thinking about what you told me last night.”
It was, of course, the truth. He had hardly been able to keep himself from tearing her away again last night. He had wanted so badly to demand an explanation. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to be careful. They deserved it. So he had lain in his bed, mind whirring, until it was time to dress again and come here.
“Neither could I.” She shook her head, sending one curling, brown tress spiraling from her pins and down towards her bodice.
For a moment, a thick silence pervaded the room. There was so much to say and yet he struggled with where to start. However, when she met his gaze, her brown lashes, so exquisite, lifting to reveal her honey-colored glance, he knew he had to find a way.
“I never left that note for you, Olivia. Or the ten guineas.”
She said nothing at first, her eyes merely flitting down to their intertwined hands.
Finally, she looked back up at him.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” he said, automatically. He swallowed. He knew he needed to say more. It was the only way to make her believe him. “Olivia, when you disappeared—and that is what it was to me, a disappearance—I was…”
She peered up at him, questioning in her eyes. The open look, the vulnerability he saw there, made it easier for him to keep speaking.
