When Eloisa, Natasha, and Nathanial appeared at the breakfast table that morning, their talk could only be of one thing. And, characteristically, Eloisa was not dwelling with her daughter on wedding clothes and the trappings of her future life, but instead trying to impress upon her the challenges of her future situation.
“Darling,” Eloisa said, perusing the newsprint and scandal sheets that she received every morning, “The news has not hit the society pages yet. And I want you to be prepared for what they will say.”
“They can be vicious, Natasha,” Olivia seconded, feeling anxious on the girl’s behalf, even though she had, miraculously, as of yet, avoided the worst of those nefarious pens.
“I know, mother,” Natasha said, nothing able to keep the smile from her face. “‘Lord weds Indian Jezebel’—I wait for the items with bated breath.”
Eloisa’s mouth turned down and yet upward at the corners, caught somewhere between a laugh and a frown.
“It might not be such a blasé matter to you, dear, when they actually print something similar—or you have the privilege of having the same said to your face.”
Natasha nodded, but Olivia sensed it was more out of deference to her mother’s feelings than true concern on her own behalf.
“If any of these toffs are rude to you, Tasha, I will take care of them,” Nathanial said, biting into a piece of toast.
“Is thatchivalryfrom my dear brother?”
Nathanial rolled his eyes. “I am sure you will say that Lord Percy would beat me to every scuffle or duel over your honor.”
“Yes, I think you are right,” Natasha said, a secret smile curling onto her face. “But neither of you need worry—especially not you, mother. You’ve taught me well. My happiness does not rest on receiving only unalloyed acceptance from the English aristocracy. But I am not, perhaps, the only one among us to have found uncommon interest at the ball yesterday evening…”
Natasha looked around the table and Olivia’s heart gave a little spasm. Did Natasha somehow know about her interlude with Augustus?
Her gaze landed on her brother.
“I might have been quite busy yesterday evening, but I still saw you mooning over Miss Althea Wallis.”
Nathanial’s face flushed, but he held his head high.
“I did notmoon.”
As it turned out, however, Nathanial could not deny his attraction to the young woman. Likewise, the Mapperton women could not resist teasing him, particularly when Althea was such a promising match for their son and brother. Like Eloisa, Miss Wallis’s mother had grown up in the West Indies and had met her husband, Mr. Wallis, a man of an ancient and wealthy gentry family there, when he was just a younger son making his fortune in the navy. Much as Mr. Mapperton’s family had objected when he had wed Eloisa, the Wallises had disowned Althea’s father twenty years ago when he had wed his wife, revolting at the notion that a scion of their house would unite himself with a Black West Indian woman. However, when Mr. Wallis’s elder brother died childless five years after their marriage, the entail was ironclad: they could do nothing to keep Mr. and Mrs. Wallis from assuming it all. While the Wallises were not welcome at alltonevents, they were frequently seen at many—and lived, in most ways, a life typical of a prominent gentry family.
“From the view of fortune and pedigree,” Eloisa said, smiling saucily, “I could not approve of Miss Wallis more. Nevertheless, I advise you to get to know her before doing anything drastic.”
“Who said anything aboutdrastic?” Nathanial huffed into his tea. But from his little, besotted smile and flushed cheeks, Olivia knew that Eloisa had a good estimation of her son’s feelings.
In fact, the Mappertons were so wrapped up in their own affairs that they had—thankfully—forgotten about Olivia’s own mysterious absence the prior evening. And, as she passed a pleasant day with them, they did not exclaim—and, after all, why would they?—when Olivia informed them that tomorrow she would spend the day at Carrington Place with Augustus and his family.
Luckily, it seemed that any worry of chaperoning had been pushed out of Natasha and Nathanial’s mind by their own intrigues.
“I do so wish I could go with you,” Natasha exclaimed, “But Percy and I plan to ride in Hyde Park and then get ices at Gunther’s—”
Nathanial, to the surprise of no one, planned to call at the Wallises.
Only Eloisa looked at Olivia for a moment longer than normal at this announcement. For a moment, Olivia could tell that Eloisa wanted to warn her, as she had her daughter, to be careful. But something seemed to hold her back at the last moment.
It was just as well, Olivia thought, because she felt very unequal to making any promises at present.
She was not at all sure her prudence in regard to Augustus Carrington could be relied upon—and thus it was better to refrain from assurances all together.
*
When Augustus’s carriagearrived the next morning to escort her to Carrington Place, the day appeared perfectly bright and clear, except for being extremely cold for the time of year. Augustus has insisted upon sending his carriage, even though the Mappertons had one of their own and Eloisa would have, of course, allowed her to use it. But as they only had one, Olivia hated to appropriate it for her own use, when Eloisa and Nathanial might need it, and she would have taken a hackney. She suspected Augustus knew that she would have felt this way and, thus, insisted upon sending one of his coaches. She had to admire his solicitude. She did appreciate it.
She had been invited for tea with Augustus and the Carrington women who still lived in the family townhouse. As the plush carriage wended its way through the crowded streets of Mayfair at midday, her stomach churned. Augustus’s mother and sisters would understand that she visited them as a woman their son and brother was considering marrying—and she cringed at what they must think ofherin such a role. She, who had once been a maid in their house, was now being considered as its future countess.
Olivia looked down at her hands. Although it had been years since she had worked as a scullery maid, her hands still did not have the softness of a gentlewoman—her fingers and palms still bore the faint callouses and thin scars of manual labor. She knew that the Dowager Countess was a liberal woman, but could any woman who had lived her whole life in high society besoopen-minded as to not mind her former maid as her daughter-in-law?
